Punch and Judy. [Oe#! 
Once cried a king, whose joys began to pall ! a 
Proud Xerxes, or the soft Sardanapalus — 
The half my realm to that man’s share shall fall 
Who finds out a new pleasure to regale us.” 
What had ‘he said to Punch, why “ There is all, 
Thou best enchanter, when ovr griefs assail us: - 
Accept those treasures, freely I forsake them !” 
But Punch had ne’er been foo! enough to take them. 
Yet tell me Punch, belong’st thou to the class 
Of Whigs or Tories, and in what degree ? 
In short, what are thy politics >—Alas, 
Us may their dulness fret, but never thee, 
Heedless what bills the Lords or Commons pass, 
So they but leave thy trade in laughter free ! 
Thou wilt not take old Solon for thy tutor, 
Who said, “ in civil strife let none be neuter.” 
Thou art, indeed, the shadow of a shade, 
The mockery of poor man, creation’s mock ;— 
But life, and life’s mishaps, thou hast arrayed 
In shapes and hues which neither grieve nor shock, 
And thus array’st them still: while round thee fade 
The glories of the buskin and the sock. 
Like life, thou art a jest :—but not so mad a one— 
Like life, thou art a farce ;—but not so sad a one. 
Whether, like Hamlet speaking his “ to be,” 
And meditating upon life’s hereafter, : 
Thou strik’st thy brow: —or sunk at Judy’s knee, 
Declar’st how in thy heart thou dids’t engraft her: 
Or in full inspiration of thy glee, 
Movest the many with contagious laughter ; 
Still art thou loved “ and memorable long, 
If there be force in folly, or in song.” — 
Thee still, oh Punch, the pleasing task employs 
To strew thy wild flow’rs o’er the wilderness 
Of streets ;—to haunt remembrance—(while the toys 
Of added years grow stale and valueless) 
Mix’d with its firs-—best—unforgotten joys ;— 
To dissipate awhile the mind’s distress :— 
And (for thou can’st) allure bright Beauty’s eye, 
And wake her dormant smiles, when thou art nigh. 
For, three springs back, young Ernest, having been 
To Music’s proud Italian fane one night, 
Beheld a maiden of transcendent mien 
With plume, and gems, but more with beauty bright : 
Then looked no longer on the mimic scene, 
Too fondly gazing at that lovelier sight. 
He saw but her—his ears were deaf as stone, 
For all his senses were locked up in one. 
No more he heard the lengthened shake and swell 
Of the De Begnis or sweet Caradori ; 
Nor marked he how the ballet’s group could tell 
With arms and heels some most pathetic story. 
Noblet ! thy fairy foot unheeded fell ! 
Paul ! unadmired was thy aerian glory: 
So deeply that fair she, who sat above, 
Could fill and fascinate his heart with love ! 
