Ask and Have. ·

"For my father, he loves me so dearly,

He'll never consent I should

go

If you talk to my father," says Mary, "He'll surely say 'No.'"

“Then how shall I get you, my jewel? Sweet Mary," says I;

"If your father and mother's so cruel, Most surely I'll die!"

"Oh, never say die, dear," says Mary; "A way now to save you I see :

Since my parents are both so contrary— You'd better ask me."

A LYRIC FOR LOVERS.

W. H. WILLS.

OVE launch'd a gallant little craft,
Complete with every rope;
In golden words was painted aft,
"The Cupid, Captain Hope."
Pleasure was rated second mate,

And Passion made to steer;
The guns were handed o'er to Fate,
To Impulse sailing gear.

A Lyric for Lovers.

Merrily roved the thoughtless crew
Amid the billows' strife;

But soon a sail bore down: all knew
'Twas Captain Reason's "Life."
And Pleasure left, though Passion said
He'd guard her safe from all harms :
'Twas vain; for Fate ramm'd home the lead,
While Love prepared the small arms.

A storm arose. The canvass now
Escaped from Impulse' hand,

While headstrong Passion dash'd the prow
Swift on a rocky strand.

"All's lost!" each trembling sailor cried; "Bid Captain Hope adieu!" But, in his life-boat, Reason hied To save the silly crew.

Impulse the torrents overwhelm,

But Pleasure 'scaped from wreck ; Love, making Reason take the helm, Chain'd Passion to the deck.

"I thought you were my foe; but now,"
Said Love," we'll sail together;

Reason, henceforth through life shalt thou
My pilot be for ever!"

Times more deafening than old Tom of Lincoln:
Prodigious cone--

Big monotone

Huge Upper Benjamin! When I think on

How thy E natural-sonorous tonic,

Booming distinctly out, each clear harmonic,

Will wrap in sound all London, and, three million ears
Strike with one common chord,-it, in good sooth, appears
To me, O loud pedometer for the Grim Old Runner,

Monstrous memento!

Has thy tongue been sent to

Memorialise " my Lords" from your tall steeple--
To tell the borers,

And tired-out snorers,

Who dream, forsooth, they represent the people,

Ode to Big Ben.

That Time, which they so waste in clubs and "

Is, in reality, the Public's, and not theirs?

Wilt thou, O giant Captain Cuttle!

pairs,”

When hourly" making a note on't," rouse the subtle Barnacles to a sense of " how to do it?"

66

Or, if you can't, to a dread of how they'll rue it?

Tremendous Larum! If, at each great stroke
Of your enormous hammer,

Your trembling clamour

Purges the air of all the lies and smoke
That seethe and vibrate at thy base,
(And which for very shame

Will make thy clock, good dame,

For ever hold her hands before her face),
Then, O immense Percussion Cap! I need
Not say you'll prove a public benefit, indeed.