434 
Some nutmeg, too;—but not a deal :— 
For nutmeg, says old Doctor Blither, 
Is very apt to hurt the liver. 
Thus having blended each ingredient, 
Nine times to stir I hold expedient ; 
Then, glass in hand, I stretch my feet, 
And resting cheerly in my seat, 
I sip, and smoke, and sip at leizure. 
Now, is not this a life of pleasure ?” 
«< Pleasure,”’ yawns Jim ; yet smil’d to find, 
The button had been left behind ;— 
*« Such pleasure as, I vow to God, 
Transports one—to the land of Nod / 
And yet—the negus to your feast 
Was welcome epilogue, at least. 
But for my negus I’ve a way 
Of making saves much dull delay: 
I never ounce and gill my pleasures, 
With algebraics, weights and measures ; 
Nice calculations always set me yawning : 
So, as in shorter reckonings I delight, 
T take my cheerful bottle over night, 
And pour some tea upon it in the morning.” 
J.T. 
This dialogue is, in all essentials, a record, not 
an invention; the conclusion, especially, as literal 
as rhyme would permit; the two last lines ver- 
batim. Some years ago the repartee was rife in the 
mouths of all the ‘* good fellows” of Nottingham. It 
should be added, however, for the moral’s sake, that 
Jim’s mode of negus-making, if it made his lifea 
merry one, made it also a short one. Nobody had 
any doubt how it was that the undertaker and the 
sexton were put so early into requisition. 
SONNET. 
TO THE DAISY. 
Tuov little star of Nature, peeping forth 
From some lone hillock’s bounds, or sward’s 
rude green ! 
‘Picture of true Humility, when worth 
Quits, for more temperate haunts, ‘¢ life’s 
feverish scene ;” 
Picture of Beauty, when, in pastoral dell, 
She shuns th’ insidious fopling’s flaring eye; 
Picture of Genius, who, in rustic cell 
_Retir’d, with study softens poverty ; 
Picture of Man—were it but own’d by 
Man— 
In the flush’d pride of fresh virility ! 
Whose life, like thine, is but a transient span, 
Expos'd to every blight of chance, like thee : 
And oft, while infaney’ ssweet budis smiling, 
Comes the rude gatherer Death, the promis’d 
bloom despoiling. Enorr. 
- THE GAIETIES OF GENIUS. 
Hasr ever known what ’tis to smile” 
With anguish at thy heart ? 
Toscatter mirth around, the while 
In-writh'd the festering smart ? 
Hast ever known, with thought opprest, 
To feel the fancy rise ?— 
A darksome dungeon in thy breast— 
Thy spirit in the skies ! 
Hast ever known to act a joy, 
Yet never taste the cheer ? 
The sparkle in thine outward eye— 
_ Veiling the stifled tear. 
Original Poetry. 
[Dec. 1, 
Hast ever felt thy bosom swell, 
As with the autumn storm, 
While every accent seem’d to tell 
Of spring-tide visions warm Re: 
CTV ns 
Flast listen’d to the sdothing voice. ie. 
OF music breathing round, e 
That bade the list’ning ear rejoice 5- i 
The soul in torpor bound ides 
j bax 
Hast known, when every conscious sense 
Confess’d the present charms  »yi20%" 
That should to memory’s wound dispense 
The health-restoring balm;—101s!/119 
Yet felt the lurking sickness theres: 
The sense could not allay ?— 
A pang that Fancy would not share, 
Yet could not chase away ? 
Oh! there are griefs that silent prey 
Upon the vital part, 
While the proud spirit feigns the lay— 
That hides, not speaks the heart, ~~ 
Bape 
— 
LONELINESS. 
Ir is not good to be alone. 
The voice of love, how sweet the tone! 
The smile of friendship’s face sincere, 
With hand, and lip, and heart—how dear! 
Converse awakens thought, and brings 
Music on memory’s social wings. 
The bird, the ant, the lamb and bee 
Are soothed by kindred minstrelsy. 
When rays descend, the flowers arise, 
And, blushing, meet them from the skies. 
Cells are for silence and despair, 
Mountains for bleak and gelid air ; 
But man thrives best in cultur’d ground, 
With radiant eyes and shapes around. 
The hedge-row claims its rose—the sky, 
Its star—the true heart, sympathy, 
Which solitude congeals to stone, 
Man is not born to live alone. 
Tslington, 1825. 
SONNET. 
CONTENT, s3. by 
Fortuxe’s more partial smiles’ Jet ‘others 
share; 4S{ 8 10 
Her liberal gifts tho’ she withhold ‘from 
me, 
T only be some humble dwelling, vohadie, 
O mild Content, I may, colleagued witli'thee, 
Life’s calm enjoy, at distance from the 
crowd, 
Placed on some verdant heath, * or-hillock’s 
side; 
Nor envy those, the great and ‘pamper’ 
proud, 
Who swell prosperity’s supertiania tide; 
There, O Content, my wishes -to complete, 
Grant me, as light’ners of my daily toil; 
The lisp of rose-lip’d innocents, and'siveet 
Domestic halos of loved woman’sismile.. 
Grant these—the monarch’s gorgeous diadem 
Boasts not the lustre-of. sorichagemo : 
5 str. aol (nceath badiworr, 
Brew strect, Cheapside. 
