Was't in the north or in the south,

That summer-breezes rocked your cradle? And had you in your baby mouth

A wooden or a silver laḍle?

And was your first, unconscious sleep,

By Brownie banned, or blessed by fairy? And did you wake to laugh or weep?

And where you christened Maud or Mary?

And was your father called "your grace?"
And did he bet at Ascot races?
And did he chatter common-place?
And did he fill a score of places?
And did your lady-mother's charms
Consist in picklings, broilings, bastings?
Or did she prate about the arms

Her brave forefather won at Hastings?

Where were you

"finished?" tell me where!

Was it at Chelsea, or at Chiswick ?

Had you the ordinary share

Of books and backboard, harp and physic?

And did they bid you banish pride,
And mind your oriental tinting?

And did you learn how Dido died,

And who found out the art of printing?

And are you fond of lanes and brooks,

A votary of the sylvan muses?

Or do you con the little books

Which Baron Brougham and Vaux diffuses?

Or do you love to knit and sew,
The fashionable world's Arachne ?
Or do you canter down the Row,
Upon a very long-tailed hackney?

And do you love your brother James?
And do you pet his mares and setters?
And have your friends romantic names?
And do you write them long, long letters?
And are you—since the world began

All women are a little spiteful?

And don't you dote on Malibran ?

And don't you think Tom Moore delightful?

I see they've brought you flowers to-day, and noses;

Delicious food for eyes

But carelessly you turn away

From all the pinks, and all the roses; Say, is that fond look sent in search

Of one whose look as fondly answers?

And is he, fairest, in the church,

Or is he aint he-in the Lancers?

And is your love a motley page

Of black and white, half joy, half sorrow?

Are you to wait till you're of age?

Or are you to be his to-morrow?

Or do they bid you, in their scorn,

Your pure and sinless flame to smother?

Is he so very meanly born?

Or are you married to another?

Whate'er you are, at last, adieu!
I think it is your bounden duty
To let the rhymes I coin for you,

Be prized by all who prize your beauty.
From you I seek nor gold nor fame;
From you I fear no cruel strictures;
I wish some girls that I could name
Were half as silent as their pictures!

8*

CONFESSIONS.

FROM THE MANUSCRIPT OF A SEXAGENARIAN.

In youth, when pen and fingers first

Coined rhymes for all who choose to seek 'em, Ere luring hope's gay bubbles burst,

Or Chitty was my vade mecum,

Ere

years had charactered my brow

With the deep lines, that well become it, Or told me that warm hearts could grow Cold as Mont Blanc's snow-covered summit.

When my slow step and solemn swing
Were steadier and somewhat brisker,
When velvet collars were "the thing,"
And long before I wore a whisker,
Ere I had measured six feet two,

Or bought Havanas by the dozen,

I fell in love as many do

She was an angel-hem-my cousin.

Sometimes my eye, its furtive glance

Cast back on memory's short-hand record;

I wonder if by any chance

Life's future page will be so checkered!

My angel cousin!-ah! her form

Her lofty brow-her curls of raven,
Eyes darker than the thunder storm,
Its lightnings flashing from their heaven.

Her lip with music eloquent

As her own grand upright piano; No-never yet was peri lent

To earth like thee, sweet Adriana. I may not dare not-call to mind

The joys that once my breast elated, Though yet, methinks, the morning wind Sweeps o'er my ear, with thy tones freighted;

And then I pause, and turn aside

From pleasure's throng of pangless-hearted, To weep! No. Sentiment and pride Are by each other always thwarted!

I press my hand upon my brow,

To still the throbbing pulse that heaves it,

Recal my boyhood's faltered vow,

And marvel-if she still believes it.

But she is woman—and her heart,
Like her tiara's brightest jewel,
Cold-hard-till kindled by some art,
Then quenchless burns-itself its fuel—

So poets say. Well, let it pass,

And those who list may yield it credit;

But as for constancy, alas!

I've never known-I've only read it.