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In the dispute whate'er I said,

My heart was by my tongue belied ;
And in my looks you might have read

How much I argu'd on your side.
You, far from danger as from fear,

Might have sustain'd an open fight :
For seldom your opinions err ;

Your eyes are always in the right.
Why, fair one, would you not rely

On Reason's force with Beauty's join'd ?
Could I their prevalence deny,

I must at once be deaf and blind.
Alas! not hoping to subdue,

I only to the fight aspir'd :
To keep the beauteous foe in view

Was all the glory I desir'd.
But she, howe'er of vict'ry sure,

Contemps the wreath too long delay'd;
And arm'd with more immediate power,

Calls cruel silence to her aid.
Deeper to wound, she shuns the fight:

She drops her arms, to gain the field :
Secures her conquest by her flight,

And triumphs, when she seems to yield.
So when the Parthian turn'd his steed,

And from the hostile camp withdrew ;
With cruel skill the backward reed
He sent ; and as he fled, he slew.

Matthew Prior.
CCLXII.

LINES SUNG AT THE DINNER GIVEN TO

CHARLES KEMBLE WHEN HE RETIRED
FROM THE STAGE.

FAREWELL ! all good wishes go with him to-day,
Rich in name, rich in fame, he has play'd out the play.
Though the sock and the buskin for aye be removed
Still he serves in the train of the drama he loved.
We now who surround him, would make some amends
For past years of enjoyment-we court him as friends,
Our chief, nobly born, genius crown'd, our zeal shares,
O, his coronet's hid by the laurel he wears.

Shall we never again see his spirit infuse
Life, life in the gay gallant forms of the Muse,
Through the lovers and heroes of Shakespeare he ran,
All the soul of a soldier, the heart of the man-
Shall we never in Cyprus his spirit retrace,
See him stroll into Angiers with indolent grace,
Or greet him in bonnet at fair Dunsinane-
Or meet him in moonlight Verona again!
Let the curtain come down. Let the scene pass away-
There's an autumn when summer has squander'd her day:
We sit by the fire when we can't by the lamp,
And re-people the banquet, re-soldier the camp.
O, nothing can rob us of memory's gold :
And though he quit the gorgeous, and we may grow old,
With our Shakespeare in hand, and bright forms in our brain,
We can dream up our Siddons and Kembles again.

7. Hamilton Reynolds.

CCLXIII.

SPECTATOR AB EXTRA.

As I sat at the Café I said to myself,
They may talk as they please about what they call pelf,
They may sneer as they like about eating and drinking,
But help it I cannot, I cannot help thinking

How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!

How pleasant it is to have money.
I sit at my table en grand seigneur,
And when I have done, throw a crust to the poor;
Not only the pleasure itself of good living,
But also the pleasure of now and then giving:

So pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!

So pleasant it is to have money.
They may talk as they please about what they call pelf,
And how one ought never to think of one's-self,
How pleasures of thought surpass eating and drinking,
My pleasure of thought is the pleasure of thinking

How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!
How pleasant it is to have money.

LE DINER.

Come along, 'tis the time, ten or more minutes past,
And he who came first had to wait for the last;
The oysters ere this had been in and been out;
While I have been sitting and thinking about

How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!

How pleasant it is to have money.
A clear soup with eggs; voilà tout; of the fish
The filets de sole are a moderate dish
A la Orly, but you're for red mullet, you say:
By the gods of good fare, who can question to-day

How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!

How pleasant it is to have money.
After oysters, Sauterne; then Sherry; Champagne,
Ere one bottle goes, comes another again;
Fly up, thou bold cork, to the ceiling above,
And tell to our ears in the sound that we love

How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!

llow pleasant it is to have money. I've the simplest of palates; absurd it may be, But I almost could dine on a poulet-au-riz, Fish and soup and omelette and that—but the deuceThere were to be woodcocks, and not Charlotte Russe!

So pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!

So pleasant it is to have money. Your Chablis is acid, away with the hock, Give me the pure juice of the purple Médoc; St. Peray is exquisite; but, if you please, Some Burgundy just before tasting the cheese.

So pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!

So pleasant it is to have money.
As for that, pass the bottle, and hang the expense-
I've seen it observed by a writer of sense,
That the labouring classes could scarce live a day,
If people like us didn't eat, drink, and pay.

So useful it is to have money, heigh-ho!

So useful it is to have money.
One ought to be grateful, I quite apprehend,
Having dinner and supper and plenty to spend,

And so suppose now, while the things go away,
By way of a grace we all stand up and say

How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!
How pleasant it is to have money.

PARVENANT.

I cannot but ask, in the park and the streets,
When I look at the number of persons one meets,
Whate'er in the world the poor devils can do
Whose fathers and mothers can't give them a sous.

So needful it is to have money, heigh-ho!
So needful it is to have money.

I ride, and I drive, and I care not a d -n,
The people look up and they ask who I am ;
And if I should chance to run over a cad,
I can pay for the damage, if ever so bad.

So useful it is to have money, heigh-ho !
So useful it is to have money.

It was but this winter I came up to town,
And already I'm gaining a sort of renown;
Find my way to good houses without much ado,
Am beginning to see the nobility too.

So useful it is to have money, heigh-ho!
So useful it is to have money.

O dear what a pity they ever should lose it,
Since they are the people who know how to use it;
So easy, so stately, such manners, such dinners;
And yet, after all, it is we are the winners.

So needful it is to have money, heigh-ho!

So needful it is to have money.
It is all very well to be handsome and tall,
Which certainly makes you look well at a ball,
It's all very well to be clever and witty,
But if you are poor, why it's only a pity.

So needful it is to have money, heigh-ho!
So needful it is to have money.

There's something undoubtedly in a fine air,
To know how to smile and be able to stare,

High breeding is something, but well bred or not,
In the end the one question is, what have you got?

So needful it is to have money, heigh-ho!

So needful it is to have money.
And the angels in pink and the angels in blue,
In muslins and moirés so lovely and new,
What is it they want, and so wish you to guess,
But if you have money,

the answer is yes.
So needful, they tell you, is money, heigh-ho!
So needful it is to have money.

Arthur H. Clough.

CCLXIV.

THE GOLDEN FARMER.

WHILE I'm blest with health and plenty,

Let me live a jolly, jolly dog ;
For as blythe as five-and-twenty,

Thro' the world I wish to jog.
As for greater folks or richer,

While I pay both scot and lot,
And enjoy my friend and pitcher,

I've a kingdom in a cot!
Flocks and herds in fields, all nigh too,

Corn and clover, beans and pease,
And in hen yard, pond and stye too,

Pigs and poultry, ducks and geese.
While my farm thus cuts a dash too,

Poor folks daily labouring on't,
Who plough, sow, and reap, and thrash too,

I'll be thrash'd if they shall want.
He who sticks his knife in roast meat,

And for numbers has to carve,
May the churl the whipping-post meet,

If he stuffs-and lets them starve.
And when I, like Neighbour Squeezum,

Plot and scheme the poor to drain,
Or with Badger join, to fleece 'em,

Badger me for a rogue in grain.

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