Out of the bed the other fair hand was

On a green satin quilt, whose perfect white Looked like a daisie in a field of grass,

And shew'd like unmelt snow unto the sight;
There lay this pretty perdue, safe to keep,
The rest o' the body that lay fast asleep.

Her eyes (and therefore it was night) close laid,
Strove to imprison Beauty 'till the morn;
But yet the doors were of such fine stuff made,
That it broke thro', and shew'd itself in scorn,
Throwing a kind light about the place,

Which turned to smiles still as 't came near her face.

Her beams (which some dull men call'd hair) divided,
Part with her cheeks, part with her lips did sport;
But these as rude her breath put by; still some
Wiselyer downwards sought; but falling short,
Curl'd back in rings, and seem'd to turn again
To bite the part so unkindly held them in.

A TART REPLY.

Says the squire to the parson, "if you were to lie, In this dish we could make a substantial goose-pie ;" Quoth the parson, "if you in your grave were ex

tended,

(Which I hope won't take place till your morals are mended)

And I read the prayers, by a much better rule,
The parish might call me a goose-bury fool."

ON MISS ALICIA MEEK.

I love Alicia for the grace,

That shapes her form, that moulds her face,

For her dark eye and dimples sleek,
But more than all, because she's Meek.

Why don't I wed her then you cry,
Shall I be plain and tell you why;
Whate'er Alicia is before,

When married, she'll be Meek no more.

REASON FOR THICK ANCLES.

I cannot comprehend, says Dick,
What 'tis that makes my legs so thick;
You do not comprehend, says Harry,
How great a calf they have to carry.

REASON FOR WOMEN HAVING NO BEARDS.

Nature wisely ordering all below,

Suffers no beard on woman's chin to grow ;
For how could they be shav'd, whate'er the skill,
Whose tongues would never let that chin be still?

THE TAILOR'S HOLIDAY.

Billy Snip went to skate, where the ice being loose, He fell in; but was sav'd by good luck :

Cried the Tailor, "I'll never more leave my hot

goose,

To receive, in return, a cold duck.

ON THE TREAD MILL,

Invented by Mr. CUBITT, of Ipswich.

The coves in prison grinding corn for bread,
Denounce thee, Cubitt, every step they tread;

And though the ancients used thee, sure, 'tis hard
The moderns cannot use the prison-yard:

By law, they work and walk and toil in spite,
Yet ne'er exceed two feet from morn till night.

ON A LADY'S GIRDLE.

That which her slender waist confin'd,
Shall now my joyful temples bind;
No monarch but would give his crown
His arms might do what this has done.
It was my heav'n's extremest sphere,
The pall which held that lovely dear;
My joy, my grief, my hope, my love,
Did all within this circle move.
A narrow compass! and yet there
Dwelt all that's good, and all that's fair!
Give me but what this ribbond bound,
Take all the rest the Sun goes round.

BOOK SELLERS AND AUTHORS.

"The days of Tonson, Lintot, Curll, are over: 'Tis now your author's time to live in clover.

The time's gone by when we our coaches kept, And authors were contented with umbrellas ; When pairs of epic bards in hay-lofts slept,

Too glad if cantos two could fill two bellies : When we could always dinner intercept,

Unless the quire was covered-Happy fellows! When first a champaigne cork was taught to fly At a reviewer's touch-our reign was by."

ARABIC DISTICH.

The apple's crimson glow, amid wan tints of care, Reflects some lovely face admir'd by pale despair. Thus Eve's first dear-bought fruit to mankind since forlorn,

Shews hope, life's blooming rose, oft blighted by its thorn.

THE MISER.

Avaro grieves when the bright sun,
Thro' the blue sky his course has run ;
Avaro grieves not that the night
Closes the beauteous orb of light:
Or, that fair nature's charms are hid
Under night's cloudy coverlid :

He grieves not that he's thus benighted;
But, that his candle must be lighted.

THE INQUEST.

A hint to clever men employed on such occasions.

"Poor Peter Pike is drown'd, and neighbours say The jury mean to sit on him to-day :"

"Know'st thou what for?" said Tom.—Quoth Ned, "No doubt

'Tis merely done to squeeze the water out."

BEAUTY.

Kind Nature, with unsparing hand,

Hath strew'd her blessings o'er the land;

To every beast that roams the plain,
To every fish that swims the main,
To every bird that wings the wind,
Her bounty has been unconfin'd.
Arm'd for defence, or wing'd for flight,
True is their scent, and keen their sight.
And unto Man she gave a soul
To rule and moderate the whole.
Woman alone defenceless lies,
No friendly hand her need supplies :
But yet, that elegance of face,

That godlike mien, that winning grace,
Those thousand soul-subduing charms,
Are less resistible than arms;
For this must conquer all distress-
The might of woman's loveliness.

TO THE SETTING SUN.

Hail, glorious orb! thou sinkest to thy rest
In bright tranquillity, yet leav'st behind
An ever-jarring world, which is a nest
Of griefs and wrongs and ills of every kind.
Thou smil'st at parting, for that world seems gay,
And thou, unconscious of its crafty guile,
Think'st that bright gladness cheers it with its ray,
And that contentment sparkles in its smile.
But did'st thou know what coldness of the heart
Its votaries feel, meanwhile their laughing eye.
Would mimic joy, thou ne'er again would'st dart
Thy beams of radiance from the ev'ning sky;
But, veil'd in clouds, or wrapt in vapours gray,
Like mourner sad, would'st slowly sink away,