![[ocr errors]](https://books.google.bg/books/content?id=ycIRAAAAYAAJ&hl=bg&output=html_text&pg=PA383&img=1&zoom=3&q=%22the+watery+roar,+Scoops+out+an+empire,+and+usurps+the+shore+:+While+the+pent+ocean,+rising+o%27er+the+pile.%22&cds=1&sig=ACfU3U0hRkGdVqZFZncNxVpqbDVZSNwAxQ&edge=0&edge=stretch&ci=40,590,7,6)
THE MAID'S SOLILOQUY.
A maiden alone-Milton in her hand. She opens
p the passage "Hail wedded love! mysterious law"
&c. She then soliloquizes.
It must be so! Milton, thou reasonest well;
Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,
This longing after matrimony?
Or whence this secret dread, this inward horror
Of dying unespous'd? Why shrinks the heart
Back on itself and startles at celibacy?
"Tis reason, faithful reason stirs within us;
"Tis nature's self points out an alliance,
And intimates a husband to the sex.
Marriage! thou pleasing and yet anxious thought!
Thro' what new and various changes must we pass?
The marriage state in prospect lies before me,
But shadows, clouds and darkness rest upon it.
Here I will hold-If nature prompts the wish,
And that she does is plain from all her works.
Our duty, interest, pleasure, bid indulge it,
For the great end of nature's law is bliss.
But yet-in wedlock-the woman must obey;
I'm weary of these doubts-the priest shall end 'em.
Nor rashly do I venture loss and gain;
Pleasure and bondage meet my thoughts at once.
I wed-my liberty is gone forever,
But happiness itself from this secured!
Love first shall recompense my loss,
And when my charms shall have faded,
Mine eyes grown dim, and stature bent with years,
Then virtuous friendship shall succeed to love.
SELLING A DOG.-Dick Lazybones was the owner of a large dog, which it cost as much to keep as it would two pigs; and the dog besides was utterly useless. Nay, he was worse than useless, for in addition to the expense of keeping he took up house-room, and greatly annoyed Dick's wife.
Plague take the dog!" said she," Mr. Lazybones, I do wish you would sell him, or kill him, or do something or other with him. He's more plague than his rotten neck is worth-always lying in the chimney corner, and eating more than it would take to maintain three children. I wonder you will keep such a useless animal."
"Well, well, my dear," said Dick, "say no more about it. I'll get rid of him one of these days."
This was intended as a mere get-off on the part of Dick; but as his wife kept daily dinning in his ears about the dog, he was at length compelled to take some order on the subject.
"Well, wife," said he one day, as he came in, "I've sold Jowler."
"Have you, indeed?" says she, brightening up at the good news" I'm dreadful glad of it. How much did you sell him for, my dear ?"
![[graphic]](https://books.google.bg/books/content?id=ycIRAAAAYAAJ&hl=bg&output=html_text&pg=PA383&img=1&zoom=3&q=%22the+watery+roar,+Scoops+out+an+empire,+and+usurps+the+shore+:+While+the+pent+ocean,+rising+o%27er+the+pile.%22&cds=1&sig=ACfU3U0hRkGdVqZFZncNxVpqbDVZSNwAxQ&edge=0&edge=stretch&ci=43,131,872,1356)
THE NEWSPAPER EDITOR.
From Freneau, (slightly altered.)
An insect lives among mankind,
For what wise ends by fate design'd,
I never yet could clearly, find.
In pain for all, and thank'd by none,
And most perplex'd when most alone,
No state regards him, not his own.
Beneath a dusty roof restrain'd,
To one dark spot forever chain'd,
His link is to the bottom drain'd."
His days are one continual whim:
The seasons change, but not for him;
On foreign prints his eyes grow dim.
He life supports on self-esteem,
He plans, contrives, and lives by scheme,
And spoils good paper-many a ream.
Now Europe's feuds employ his brains,
Now Asia's news his head contains
He has his labor for his pains.
He grumbles at the price of flour,
Then mourns and mutters many an hour,
That Congress have so little power.
He swears the Bank will hurt our trade,
And fall it must without his aid;
Meanwhile his tailor goes unpaid.
Although he little have to lose,
He still "the Hero" may abuse,"
And wish some other in his shoes.
The balance of our foreign trade,
Makes him uneasy and afraid,
Though, thank the gods! his board is paid.
He is a weary, thoughtful man,
Writing, if ill, the best he can,
And much despising little Van,
"Till doom'd to think of new affairs,
The Cholera sends him clean down stairs,
Leaving the wide world to his heirs.
THE OLD BACHELOR.
Not a laugh was there, nor the sign of a smile,
As our friend to the bridal was hurried;
We thought of the pain he would suffer the while,
For he looked so confoundedly flurried.
We saw him stand up, and we pitied him too,
As the parson the dread knot was tying;
He trembled so much, and his phiz was so blue,
That we feared the poor fellow was dying.
We escorted him home that bright summer's eve,
When pale from his bridal returning-
We spoke but few words, and most sorely did grieve,
A bachelor had no more discerning.
The fellow's mad as the devil, we said,
He knew that we said it in sorrow
We cheered him, but sighed to think that his head
Would wofully ache on the morrow.
And who would have thought that one like him,
So shy of the girls had we found him,
Would ever have had his eye sight so dim
As to fall in the noose that bound him!
"Twas sad to us all as sadness could be,
That advice in vain we'd been giving,
That instead of confined he might have been free
At this moment in singleness living.
We cheered the poor fellow as well as we could,
And though he was surely repenting;
But now 'twas too late-he could not, if he would,
So he gave up all thoughts of relenting.
We carried him home, and put him to rest,
And the tears fell fast as we did it;
A tear fell from him, we know 'twas no jest,
Though he thought that his sad smile hid it.
And sadly he talked of blessedness gone-
How each bachelor would now upbraid him; He said he cared not, so they'd let him sleep on, 'Neath the counterpane just as we laid him. Slowly and sadly we all walked down
From his room in the uppermost story; We vowed that his case should ne'er be our own, Whom we left, not alone, in his glory.
![[graphic]](https://books.google.bg/books/content?id=ycIRAAAAYAAJ&hl=bg&output=html_text&pg=PA384&img=1&zoom=3&q=%22the+watery+roar,+Scoops+out+an+empire,+and+usurps+the+shore+:+While+the+pent+ocean,+rising+o%27er+the+pile.%22&cds=1&sig=ACfU3U3dziaNMaCRx6oqqUAUK3VH4AVc-Q&edge=0&edge=stretch&ci=101,130,849,1334)
A HEART TO SELL! WHO'LL BUY! A new song, written expressly for Miss Clara Fisher, and sung by her with enthusiastic applause. The music composed by C. E. Horn.
Oh yes! Oh yes! I've a heart to sell!
Who'll buy? who'll buy? who'll buy?
"Tis new-'tis fresh, and furnished well,
Who'll buy? who'll buy? who'll buy?
"Tis bosomed where 'tis never cold,
No prying eyes have seen it;
'Tis worth at least its weight in gold,
For love ne'er dwelt within it.
Who'll buy? who'll buy? who'll buy?
Does any one bid more?
If sold, the bidder must be free,
Who'll buy? who'll buy? who'll buy?
If let, the lease for life must be!
Who'll buy? who'll buy? who'll buy?
Or if there's one with whom resides
A heart not prone to range;
That's kind, and free, and young besides,
I'll take it in exchange;
Who'll buy? who'll buy? who'll buy?
'Tis going!-going!--gone!!
A worse half lately advertised his better half, who in return, put the worse half before the public, in the fol lowing light:
To all good people who want him depicted,
To running away he has long been addicted;
He deserted this country, being scared at a ball,
And run away home the greatest hero of all.
For such service as this he obtained a pension,
How well he deserved it I need not now mention,
But one thing for all I needs must acknowledge,
He's the worst husband God ever made to my know
ledge.
|