THE FIRST PAIR.

ADAM alone could not be easy,

So he must have a wife, an' please ye;
And how did he procure this wife,
To cheer his solitary life?

Out of a rib, sir, from his side,
Was form'd this necessary bride:
But how did he the pain beguile?
How? He slept sweetly all the while;
And when this rib was re-applied,
In woman's form to Adam's side,
How, then, I pray you, did it answer?
"He never slept so sweet again, sir."

THE THOUGHT, OR, A SONG OF SIMILIES.

I'VE thought, the fair Narcissa cries ;

What is it like, sir?" Like your eyes—
"'Tis like a chair-'tis like a key-
""Tis like a purge-'tis like a flea-
""Tis like a beggar-like the sun-
'Tis like the Dutch-'tis like the moon--
""Tis like a kilderkin of ale-

""Tis like a doctor-like a whale-"
Why are my eyes, sir, like a sword?

For that's the thought, upon my word.
"Ah! witness every pang I feel;
"The deaths they give the likeness tell.
"A sword is like a chair you'll find,

"Because 'tis most an end behind.

""Tis like a key, for 'twill undo one;

"'Tis like a purge, for 'twill run thro' one;
""Tis like a flea, and reason good,
""Tis often drawing human blood."
Why like a beggar?" You shall hear;

"'Tis often carried 'fore the May'r ;

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THE ASTRONOMER'S ROOM.

" 'Tis like the sun, because 'tis gilt, "Besides it travels in a belt. ""Tis like the Dutch, we plainly see, "Because that state, whenever we "A push for our own int'rest make, "Does instantly our sides forsake." The moon?" Why, when all 's said and donc, "A sword is very like the moon; "For if his majesty (God bless him) "When county sheriff comes t' address him, "Is pleas'd his favours to bestow

"On him before him kneeling low, "This o'er his shoulders glitters bright, "And gives the glory to the knight (night): .

""Tis like a kilderkin, no doubt,

"For it 's not long in drawing out.

"'Tis like a Doctor; for who will
"Dispute a doctor's pow'r to kill?
But why a sword is like a whale
Is no such easy thing to tell;

"But since all swords are swords, d'ye see,
"Why, let it then a backsword be,
"Which, if well us'd, will seldom fail
To raise up somewhat like a whale.”

THE ASTRONOMER'S ROOM.

ONE day I call'd, and, Philo out,

I op'd the door, and look'd about;
When all his goods being full in view,
I took this inventory true:

Item.-A bed without a curtain,

A broken jar to empty dirt in,

A candlestick, a greasy night-cap,

A spitting-pot to catch what might hap;
Two stockings darn'd with numerous stitches,
A piece of shirt, a pair of breeches;

THE FLY AND SPIDER.

A three legg'd stool, a four legg'd table,
Were fill'd with books unfit for rabble;
Sines, tangents, secants, radius, co-sines,
Subtangents, segments, and all those signs;
Enough to shew the man who made 'em
Was full as mad as he who read 'em :
An almanack of six years standing,
A cup with ink, and, one with sand in;
One corner held his books and chest,
And round the floor were strew'd the rest;
That all things might be like himself,
He 'd neither closet, draw or shelf;
Here, p--pot, sauce-pot, broken platter,
Appear'd like heterogeneous matter.
In ancient days the walls were white,
But who 'gainst damps and snails can fight?
They 're now in wreathy ringlets bound,
Some square, some oval, and some round;
The antiquarian there may find
Each hieroglyphic to his mind;
Such faces there may fancy trace,
As never yet knew time or place;
And he who studies maps or plans,
Has all the work done to his hands;
In short, the room, the goods, and author,
Appear'd to be one made for t' other.

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THE FLY AND SPIDER.

(PINDAR.)

"GOOD-MORROW, dear Miss Fly," quoth

gallant Grim,

"Good-morrow, sir,"-reply'd Miss Fly to him. "Walk in, Miss, pray, and see what I'm about." "I'm much oblig'd t' ye, sir," Miss Fly rejoin'd; "My eyes are both so very good, I find,

"That I can plainly see the whole without."

L

"Fine weather, Miss !"-" Yes, very, very fine," Quoth Miss-" prodigious fine indeed!" "But why so coy?" quoth Grim, " that you decline "To put within my bow'r your pretty head?" ""Tis simply this,"

Quoth cautious Miss;

"I fear you'd like my pretty head so well, "You'd keep it for yourself, sir:who can tell?"

"Then let me squeeze your lovely hand, my dear, "And prove that all your dread is foolish, vain.” "I've a sore finger, sir; nay, more, I fear, "You really would not let it go again."

"Poh, poh, child, pray dismiss your idle dread; "I would not hurt a hair of that sweet head,

"Come, then, with one kind kiss of friendship

meet me.'

"La sir," quoth Miss, with seeming artless tongue, "I fear our salutation would be long;

"So loving, too, I fear that you would-eat me."

So saying, with a smile she left the rogue,
To weave more lines of death, and plan for prog.

A TALE.

(BY THE REV. MR. BISHOP.)

No plate had John and Joan to hoard,

Plain folk in humble plight;

One only tankard crown'd their board,
And that was fill'd each night:

Along whose inner bottom sketch'd,
In pride of chubby grace,

Some rude engraver's hand had etch'd,
A baby Angel's face.

POVERTY AND POETRY.

John swallow'd first a mod'rate sup;

But Joan was not like John ;

For when her lips once touch'd the cup,
She swill'd till all was gone.

John often urg'd her to drink fair,
But she ne'er chang'd a jot ;
She lov'd to see the angel there,
And therefore drain'd the pot.

When John found all remonstrance vain,
Another card he play'd;

And, where the angel stood so plain,
He got a devil pourtray'd.

Joan saw the horns, Joan saw the tail,
Yet Joan as stoutly quaff'd,
And ever when she seiz'd her ale,
She clear'd it at a draught.

John star'd, with wonder petrify'd,
His hairs rose on his pate;
And, (C Why dost guzzle now," he cry'd,
"At this enormous rate."

"O John," said she," am I to blame?
I can 't in conscience stop:
For sure't would be a burning shame,
To leave the devil a drop !"

POVERTY AND POETRY.

'TWAS sung of old, how one Amphion

Could by his verses tame a lion;

And by his strange enchanting tunes
Make bears and wolves dance rigadoons;
His songs could call the timber down,`,
And form it into house or town;

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