Sidor som bilder
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Gazes his fill, and comes and comes again,
That he may call it up, when far away.
She sits, inclining forward as to speak,
Her lips half open, and her finger up,
As though she said, “. Beware!" her vest of gold,
Broidered with flowers, and clasped from head to foot,
An emerald-stone in every golden clasp ;
And on her brow, fairer than alabaster,
A coronet of pearls.

* But then her face,
So lovely, yet so arch, so full of mirth, .
The overflowings of an innocent heart-
It haunts me still, though many a year has filed,
Like some wild melody!

Alone it hangs
Over a mouldering heir-loom, its companion,
An oaken-chest, half eaten by the worm,
But richly carved by Antony of Trent
With scripture stories from the Life of Christ.
A chest that came from Venice, and had held
The ducal robes of some old ancestor
That by the way—it may be true or false
But don't forget the picture; and you will not,
When you have heard the tale they told me there.

She was an only child-her name Ginevra,
The joy, the pride of an indulgent father;
And in her fifteenth year became a bride,
Marrying an only son, FRANCESCO Doria,
Her playmate from her birth, and her first love.

Just as she looks there in her bridal dress,
She was all gentleness, all gaiety,
Her pranks the favourite theme of every tongue.
But now the day was come, the day, the hour;
Now, frowning, smiling for the hundredth time,
The nurse, that ancient lady, preached decorum ;

And, in the lustre of her youth, she gave
Her hand, with her heart in it, to FRANCESCO.

Great was the joy; but at the nuptial feast, When all sat down, the bride herself was wanting. Nor was she to be found! Her father cried,

'Tis but to make a trial of our love !"
And filled his glass to all ; but his hand shook,
And soon from guest to guest the panic spread.
'Twas but that instant she had left FRANCFSCO,
Laughing and looking back, and Aying still,
Her ivory tooth imprinted on his finger.
But now, alas ! she was not to be found;
Nor from that hour could any thing be guessed,
But that she was not !

Weary of his life,
FRANCESCO flew to Venice, and, embarking,
Flung it away in battle with the Turks.
ORSINI lived--and long might you have seen
An old man wandering as in quest of something,
Something he could not find-he knew not what.
When he was gone, the house remained awhile,
Silent and tenantless ;-then went to strangers.

Full fifty years were passed, and all forgotten, When on an idle day, a day of search Mid the old lumber in the gallery, That mouldering chest was noticed ; and 'twas said By one as young, as thoughtless as GINEVRA “ 'Why not remove it from its lurking-place ?" 'Twas done as soon as said ; but on the way It burst, it fell; and lo, a skeleton, With here and there a pearl, an emerald stone, A golden clasp,$clasping a shred of gold. All else had perished --save a wedding-ring, And a small seal, her mother's legacy, Engraven with a name, the name of both, ^ GINEVRA."

There then had she found a grave! Within that chest had she concealed herself, Fluttering with joy, the happiest of the happy;.. When a spring-lock, that lay in ambush there, Fastened her down for ever!

Tenge

VAT YOU PLEASE.....!! Some years ago when civil faction

Raged like a fury through the fields of Gauļ ; sit And children, in the general distraction, i t '

Were taught to curse as soon as they could squall. When common sense in common folks was dead, 18.

And murder showed a love of nationality, And France, determined not to have a head,

Decapitated all the higher class,

To put folks more on an equality;
When coronets were not worth half a crown,

And liberty in Bonnet-rouge might pass
For Mother Red-Cap up at Camden town;
Full many a Frenchman then took wing,

Bidding soup-maigre an abrupt farewell,

And hither came pell-mell, Sans cash, sans clothes, and almost sans every thing! Two Messieurs who about this time came over,

Half-starved, but toujours gai,

(No weasels e'er were thinner,). Trudged up to town from Dover,

Their slender store exhausted in the way,

Extremely puzzled how to get a dinner. From morn till noon, from noon till dewy eve,

Our Frenchmen wandered on their expedition ; Great was their need, and sorely did they grieve, a

Stomach and pocket in the same condition! At length, by mutual consent they parted, no And different ways on the same errand started.

This happened on a day most dear

To Epicures, when general use -
Sanctions the roasting of the sav'ry goose!
Towards night, one Frenchman, at a tavern near,
Stopped, and beheld the glorious cheer;
While greedily he snuffed the luscious gale in
That from the kitchen windows was exhaling;
He instant set to work his busy brain,
And snuffed and longed, and longed and snuffed again.

Necessity's the mother of invention,
(A proverb I've heard many mention,)
So now one moment saw his plan completed,

And our sly Frenchman at a table seated. The ready waiter at his elbow stands“ Sir, will you favour me with your commands, We've roast and boiled, Sir, choose you those or these" “ Sare! you are very good, Sare! Vat you please !"

Quick at the word,
Upon the table smokes the wished-for bird !
No time in talking did he waste,

But pounced pell-mell upon it,
Drumstick and merry-thought he picked in haste,

Exulting in the merry-thought that won it !
Pie follows goose, and after pie comes cheese :-
“ Stilton or Cheshire, Sir?”—“Ah, vat you please !",
And now our Frenchman having ta’en his fill,
Prepares to go, when—" Sir, your little bill."
“Ah, vat you're Bill ! vell Mr. Bill, good day! .
Bon jour, good Villiam.”-“ No, Sir, stay,
My name is Tom, Sir-you've this bill to pay."

“Pay, pay, ma Foi! . I call for noting, Sare-pardonnez moi ! You bring me vat you call your goose, your cheese, You ask-a me to eat I tell you, Vat you please !" Down came the master, each explained the case, The one with cursing, t'other with grimace,

But Boniface who dearly loved a jest,
(Although sometimes he dearly paid for it)

And finding nothing could be done, (you know,
That when a man has got no money,
To make him pay some would be rather funny)

Of a bad bargain made the best,
Acknowledged much was to be said for it;
Took pity on the Frenchman's meagre face,

And Briton-like forgave a fallen foe,

Laughed heartily and let him go. Our Frenchman's hunger thus subdued, Away he trotted in a merry mood; When turning round the corner of a street, Who, but his countryman he chanced to meet ! To him, with many a shrug and many a grin,, He told how he had taken Jean Bullin ! Fired with the tale, the other licks his chops, Makes his congee, and seeks this shop of shops. Entering, he seats himself, just at his ease, " What will you take, Sir ?"_" Vat you please !" The waiter looked as pale as Paris plaster, And, upstairs running, thus addressed his Master : “ These poor Mounseers come over sure in pairs; Sir, there's another 'vat you please!' down stairs." This made the honest Landlord rather crusty, . Too much of one thing—the proverb's somewhat musty. Once to be done, his anger didn't touch,

But when a second time they tried the treason,

It made him crusty, Sir, and with good reason, You would be crusty were you done so much. There is a kind of instrument Which greatly helps a serious argument, · And which, when properly applied, occasions Some most unpleasant tickling sensations! 'Twould make more clumsy folks than Frenchmen skip, "Twould strike you presently,ma stout Horsewhip.

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