And then that house of prayer, the parish church, Some roofs, and chimneys, and a glimpse of heaven, Made up the whole look-out of Number Seven. Yet something in the prospect so absorbed her, She seemed quite drowned and dozing in a dream; As if her own belov'd full moon still orb'd her, Lulling her fancy in some lunar scheme, With lost Lorenzo, may be, for its theme- "Lorenzo! "Ellen!"-then came "Sir!" and "Madam!" Such broken English never else was heard, They shook like jellies made without a due "Ellen! I'm come-to bid you-fare-farewell” For so they split their words like grits for gruel. Drew out that once inestimable jewel, Her portrait, which was erst so fondly scann'd, "There-take it, Madam-take it back, I crave, Your art has last enticed into your fetter- I wish no record of your vow's infractions, Send them to South-or Children-you had betterThey will be novelties-rare benefactions To shine in Philosophical Transactions! "Take them-pray take them-I resign them quite! I should have led you,-by your leave and pardon- "And here's the birth-day ring-nor man nor devil And that-and that is all--and now I stand Absolved of each dissever'd tie and bandAnd so, farewell, till Time's eternal sickle Shall reap our lives; in this, or foreign land, Some other may be found for truth to stickle, Almost as fair-and not so false and fickle !" And there he ceased: as truly it was time, For of the various themes that left his mouth, She knew no more than the old Hill of Howth Who notes proceedings of the F. R. S.'s; Kit North was just as strange to her as South, Except the south the weathercock expresses, Nay, Bartley's Orrery defied her guesses. Howbeit some notion of his jealous drift She gather'd from the simple outward fact, That her own lap contained each slighted gift; Though quite unconscious of his cause to act So like Othello, with his face unblack'd; “I false !—unjust Lorenzo!--and to you ! the world shall change its course as soon! True as the streamlet to the stars that shineTrue as the dial to the sun at noon, True as the tide to 'yonder blessed moon' !"" ST. BLAISE. And as she spoke, she pointed through the window, Somewhere above the houses' distant tops, Betwixt the chimney-pots of Mrs. Lindo, And Todd and Sturch's cheapest of all shops For ribbons, laces, muslins, silks, and fops;Meanwhile, as she upraised her face so Grecian, And eyes suffused with scintillating drops, Lorenzo looked, too, o'er the blinds Venetian, To see the sphere so troubled with repletion. "The Moon!" he cried, and an electric spasm At last his voice came, of most shrilly sort, Just like a sea-gull's wheeling round a rockSpeak!-Ellen!-is your sight indeed so short The Moon!-Brute! savage that I am, and block! The Moon! (O, ye Romantics, what a shock !) Why that's the new Illuminated Clock!” The Comet. AN ASTRONOMICAL ANECDOTE. "I cannot fill up a blank better than with a short history of this self-same Starling." STERNE'S SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY AMONGST professors of astronomy, The name of Herschel's very often cited; In his observatory thus coquetting With Venus-or with Juno gone astray, Or like a Tom of Coventry, sly peeping, Or ogling thro' his glass Some heavenly lass Tripping with pails along the Milky Way; Made him exclaim, My stars!" he always puts that stress on my---- |