Don't listen to tales of his bounty,
Don't hear what they say of his birth,
Don't look at his seat in the county,

Don't calculate what he is worth;
But give him a theme to write verse on,
And see if he turns out his toe;
If he's only an excellent person,-
My own Araminta, say "No!"

W. M. PRAED.
Poems, Vol. II. (Ward, Lock, and Co.)

I WANT a wife, I want a wife-
"What, are you weary of your life?"
St. Valentine made answer-
"Or, maybe, you are seeking pelf,
You idle foolish careless elf,
Who think of nothing but yourself—

You are a wicked man, sir."

Responded I, with dolorous croon,
"The very man within the moon

Must lead a dreary life, Saint.
Although he's mounted up sky-high,
He always looks about to cry-
'Tis plain enough, the reason why—
He hasn't got a wife, Saint.

"If I could find a lassie-mild,
Woman in wit, in heart a child;

Blithe-just to sweeten sorrow :
Sedate enough to temper mirth-
Meek-hearted, rich in household worth-
Not quite the ugliest girl on earth,—

I'd marry her to-morrow."

AUTHOR OF "JOHN HALIFAX,
GENTLEMAN."

Thirty Years. (Macmillan.)

JENNY'S SOLILOQUY.

O THAT my braw wooers would study their battle, A face of more meekness belike I might show them;

But now they rush on with a reasonless rattle, And forget that before we can love we must know them.

These hot-bloods, they think that we women are pikes,

To devour a red rag, or a leaf of white metal; But a sensible maiden will look ere she likes,

As the bee smells the flower in the breeze ere it settle.

There's huge-whiskered Harry came swashing from

town,

On a pair of stout legs that full bravely did carry him;

He thought a red coat with the fair must go down,
So that very night he besought me to marry him.
Quoth I, I can't tell, you might do very well,
You have whiskers and legs, and your brave
name is Harry,

But my husband must know me, and Harry must show me

His soul, if he has one, before I can marry!

Then Tommy the student, a smooth-polished man, Who soon on his shoulders a surplice will carry, He thought a good wife should be part of his plan,

So fresh from his Greek books he asked me to

marry.

Quoth I, You look sleek, and you're well-read in Greek,

And a logical thrust you can decently parry; But whether your soul's a man's or a mole's,

I must know, learnèd Tommy, before I can marry.

Next barrister Bobby came flouncing about,

As keen as a hawk that will pounce on a quarry ; He thought I must read my Lord Bob on his snout, So he said a few smart things, and asked me to

marry.

Quoth I, That you're clever no man doubted ever, With you for an answer no question needs

tarry ;

But if you claim a part, learnèd sir, in my heart, You must show me your own first, then ask me to marry!

And so they go bouncing and blundering on,

The metal before it is hot always striking; And thus in the end I'll be left quite alone, Where no fancy has leisure to grow to a liking.

But of one thing I'm sure, no mate I'll endure, Who thinks I can wed his mere beef and his bone;

But he who would win me must first reign within me,

By the right of a soul, the born lord of my own! J. S. BLACKIE. Lyrical Poems. (D. Douglas, Edinburgh.)

WHEN a lover loves a lass,

When she loves him so,
That at length it comes to pass,
Both the secret know;
Hand in hand, as heart to heart,
When they both are true,
Is it right that they should part?
What are they to do?

Churchward side by side,
Bridegroom and his bride,
Let them go let them go !

F. E. WEATHERLY.
Dresden China. (Diprose.)

TO MY BRIDE.
(WHOSOEVER SHE MAY BE.)

OH! little maid!—(I do not know your name
Or who you are, so, as a safe precaution,
I'll add)-oh, buxom widow! married dame !
(As one of these must be your present portion)
Listen, while I unveil prophetic lore for you,
And sing the fate that Fortune has in store for
you.

You'll marry soon--within a year or twain—
A bachelor of circa two and thirty:

Tall, gentlemanly, but extremely plain,

And, when you're intimate, you'll call him "BERTIE."

Neat-dresses well; his temper has been classified As hasty; but he's very quickly pacified.

You'll find him working mildly at the Bar,

After a touch at two or three professions, From easy affluence extremely far,

A brief or two on Circuit-" soup" at Sessions; A pound or two from whist, and backing horses, And, say three hundred from his own resources.

Quiet in harness; free from serious vice,

His faults are not particularly shady, You'll never find him "shy "-for, once or twice Already, he's been driven by a lady,

Who parts with him-perhaps a poor excuse for him

Because she hasn't any further use for him.
Oh! bride of mine-tall, dumpy, dark, or fair!
Oh! widow-wife, maybe, or blushing maiden,
I've told your fortune; solved the gravest care
With which your mind has hitherto been laden.
I've prophesied correctly, never doubt it;
Now tell me mine-and please be quick about it!
You-only you-can tell me, an' you will,

To whom I'm destined shortly to be mated,
Will she run up a heavy modiste's bill?

If so, I want to hear her income stated. (This is a point which interests me greatly). To quote the bard, "Oh! have I seen her lately?" Say, must I wait till husband number one

Is comfortably stowed away at Woking? How is her hair most usually done?

And tell me, please, will she object to smoking? The colour of her eyes, too, you may mention; Come, Sibyl, prophesy-I'm all attention.

W. S. GILBERT.

The "Bab" Ballads. (Routledge.) [A complete edition of Mr. Gilbert's fascinating ballads now forms a volume of "Routledge's Sixpenny Series."]

NOT FAR TO GO.

As upland fields were sunburnt brown,
And heat dried brooks were running small,
And sheep were gather'd, panting all,
Below the hawthorn on the down;
The while my mare, with dipping head,
Pull'd on my cart, above the bridge;
I saw come on, beside the ridge,
A maiden, white in skin and thread,
And walking, with an elbow load,
The way I drove, along my road.

As there, with comely steps, uphill
She rose by elm-trees, all in ranks,
From shade to shade, by flow'ry banks,
Where flew the bird with whistling bill,

I kindly said, "Now won't you ride, This burning weather, up the knap? I have a seat that fits the trap,

And now is swung from side to side."

66

"O no," she cried, "I thank you, no.
I've little further now to go."

Then up the timber'd slope, I found
The prettiest house, a good day's ride
Would bring you by, with porch and side,
By rose and jessamine well bound,
And near at hand, a spring and pool,
With lawn well sunn'd and bower cool:
And while the wicket fell behind
Her steps, I thought, if I would find
A wife, I need not blush to show,
I've little further now to go.

A BENEDICK'S APPEAL TO A BACHELOR. DEAR Charles, be persuaded to wed

For a sensible fellow like you,

It's high time to think of a bed

And muffins and coffee for two!

So have done with your doubt and delaying—
With a soul so adapted to mingle,

No wonder the neighbours are saying
'Tis singular you should be single!
Don't say that you haven't got time-
That business demands your attention;
There's not the least reason nor rhyme

In the wisest excuse you can mention.
Don't tell me about "other fish ”—

Your duty is done when you buy 'em-
And you never will relish the dish,
Unless you've a woman to fry 'em!

Don't search for "an angel" a minute,

For granting you win, in the sequel
The deuce, after all, would be in it,
With a union so very unequal.
The angels, it must be confessed,

In this world are rather uncommon; And allow me, dear Charles, to suggest You'll be better content with a woman!

I could furnish a bushel of reasons
For choosing a conjugal mate-

It agrees with all climates and seasons,
And gives you a
double estate!"