MY LETTERS. R. HARRIS BARHAM. "Litera scripta manet."-Old Saw. ANOTHER mizzling, drizzling day! Of clearing up there's no appearance; So I'll sit down without delay, And here, at least, I'll make a clearance ! Oh ne'er " on such a day as this," Would Dido with her woes oppresséd Have woo'd Æneas back to bliss, Or Trolius gone to hunt for Cressid! No, they'd have stay'd at home, like me, On days like this one can't be tender. So, Molly, draw that basket nigher, First here's a card from Mrs. Grimes, "A ball!”—she knows that I'm no dancer That woman's ask'd me fifty times, And yet I never send an answer. "DEAR JACK, Just lend me twenty pounds, Till Monday next, when I'll return it. Yours truly, HENRY GIBBS." Why Z-ds! I've seen the man but twice-here, burn it, One from my cousin Sophy Daw— Full of Aunt Margery's distresses; "The cat has kitten'd 'in the draw,' And ruin'd two bran-new silk dresses." From Sam, "The Chancellor's motto,”-nay "For King read Mob!" Brougham's old erratum. From Seraphina Price-" At two”— "Till then I can't, my dearest John, stir;" Two more because I did not go, Beginning "Wretch" and "Faithless Monster!" “DEAR SIR,— "This morning Mrs. P————— Who's doing quite as well as may be, Presented me at half past three Precisely, with another baby. "We'll name it John, and know with pleasure You'll stand"-Five guineas more, confound it !- I wish they'd call it Nebuchadnezzar, Or thrown it in the Thames and drown'd it. What have we next? A civil dun: "John Brown would take it as a favor". Another, and a surlier one, “I can't put up with sich behavior.” "Bill so long standing," 66 quite tired out," "Must sit down to insist on payment," "Called ten times,"-Here's a fuss about A few coats, waistcoats, and small raiment! For once I'll send an answer, and in form Mr. Snip he need n't "call" so; But when his bill's as "tired of standing" As he is, beg 't will "sit down also.” This from my rich old Uncle Ned, His cook-maid, Molly-vastly pleasant! Miss Pyefinch, with a stupid riddle. "D'ye give it up?" Indeed I do! A note sent up from Kent to show me, “I'll burn them precious stacks down, blow me! "Yours most sincerely, "CAPTAIN SWING." Four begging letters with petitions, In Bond-street, "when I go that way.” "And buy at Pearsall's in the city Twelve skeins of silk for netting purses: Color no matter, so it's pretty;— Two hundred pens"-two hundred curses! From Mistress Jones: "My little Billy Will you just step to Piccadilly, And meet him when the coach comes in? "And then, perhaps, you will as well, see- From Lady Snooks: "Dear Sir, you know A something smart and apropos, For my new Album ?"-Aid me, Phoebus! "My first is follow'd by my second; "Were I but what my whole implies, "For then my head would not be on, I should not have a leg to stand on.' Come that's dispatch'd-what follows?-Stay Jack, clap the saddle upon Rose- THE POPLAR. R. HARRIS BARHAM. Ay, here stands the Poplar, so tall and so stately, Yes, here is the G which proclaimed Georgiana; This should be the great D too, that once stood for Dobbin, Its once fair proportions, time, too, has been robbing; Alas! how the soul sentimental it vexes, That thus on our labors stern Chronos should frown: SPRING. A NEW VERSION. THOMAS HOOD. "Ham. The air bites shrewdly-it is very cold. COME, gentle Spring! ethereal mildness, come!" The Spring! I shrink and shudder at her name! Her praises, then, let hardy poets sing, And be her tuneful laureates and upholders, Who do not feel as if they had a Spring Poured down their shoulders! Let others eulogize her floral shows; From me they can not win a single stanza. I know her blooms are in full blow-and so's Her cowslips, stocks, and lilies of the vale, Her honey-blossoms that you hear the bees at, Fair is the vernal quarter of the year! And fair its early buddings and its blowingsBut just suppose Consumption's seeds appear With other sowings! For me, I find, when eastern winds are high, Nor can, like Iron-Chested Chubb, defy An inflamination. |