They pinched her feet, they singed her hair,
They screwed it up with pins ;—
Oh, never mortal suffered more
In penance for her sins!

So, when my precious aunt was done,
My grandsire brought her back;
(By daylight, lest some rabid youth
Might follow on the track.")
"Ah!" said my grandsire, as he shook
Some powder in his pan,

"What could this lovely creature do
Against a desperate man?"

Alas! nor chariot, nor barouche,
Nor bandit cavalcade,

Tore from the father's trembling arms
His all-accomplished maid.

For her how happy had it been!
And heaven had spared to me
To see one sad, ungathered rose
On my ancestral tree.

OLIVER W. HOLMES.

9. THE FEATURES.

THAT mortals are made up of quarrelsome clay,
My tale, I imagine, will prove as it goes;
For the features composing the visage, one day,
Most cruelly fell to abusing the Nose.

First, the Lips took it up, and their reason was this:
That the Nose was a bane both to beauty and love,
And they never, moreover, in comfort could kiss,
For that horrid protuberance jutting above!

Then Eyes, not behind in the matter to be,

With a sparkle began, as I've often times seen 'em, And vowed, it was perfectly shocking to see

Such a lump of deformity sticking between 'em."

The Cheeks, with a blush, said, "the frightfulest shade,

By the Nose, o'er their bloom and their beauty was thrown ;" And Ears couldn't bear the loud trumpeting noise,

Whenever that troublesome member was blown!

NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.-THOMAS HOOD.

So 'twas moved, and agreed, without dallying more,
To thrust the intruder, at once, from the face.
But Nose, hearing this, most indignantly swore,

66

By the breath of his nostrils, he'd stick to his place!"
Then, addressing the Eyes, he went learnedly through
His defence, and inquired, "when their vigor was gone,
Pray what would their worship for spectacles do,

If the face had no nose, to hang spectacles on ?"

"Mankind," he observed, "loved their scent, as their sight; Or who'd care a farthing for myrtles and roses ? And the charge of the Lips was as frivolous quite; For, if Lips fancied kissing, pray, why mightn't Noses? As for Ears,❞—and, speaking, Nose scornfully curled,"Their murmurs were equally trifling and teasing, And not all the Ears, Eyes, or Lips in the world,

215

Should keep him unblown, or prevent him from sneezing."
"To the Cheeks," he contended, "he acted as screen,
And guarded them oft from the wind and the weather;
And but that he stood like a landmark between,
The face had been nothing but cheek altogether!"
With eloquence thus he repelled their abuse,
With logical clearness defining the case;

And from thence came the saying, so frequent in use,
That an argument's plain "as the nose on your face!"

NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.

10. MORNING MEDITATIONS.

LET others preach upon a morning breezy,
How well to rise while night and larks are flying;
For my part, getting up seems not so easy,

By half, as lying.

What if the lark does carol in the sky,
Soaring beyond the sight to find him out—
Wherefore am I to rise at such a fly?

I'm not a trout.

Talk not to me of bees and such like hums;

They smell of sweet herbs at the morning prime;

Only lie long enough, and bed becomes

A bed of time.

To me Dan Phoebus and his cars are naught,
His steeds that paw impatiently about;
Let them enjoy, say I, as horses ought,
The first turn out.

Right beautiful the dewy meads appear,
Besprinkled by the rosy-fingered girl;
What then-if I prefer my pillow dear
To early pearl?

My stomach is not ruled by other men's,
And, grumbling for a season, quaintly begs-
Wherefore should miser rise before the hens

Have laid their eggs?

Why from a comfortable pillow start,
To see faint flushes in the east awaken?
A fig, say I, for any streaky part,

Excepting bacon.

An early riser Mr. Gray has drawn,
Who used to haste the dewy grass among,
To meet the sun upon the upland lawn-

Well he died young.

With chairwomen such early hours agree,
And sweeps that earn betimes their bite and sup;
But I'm no climbing boy, and will not be

All up-all up.

So here I'll lie, my morning calls deferring,
Till something nearer to the stroke of noon:
A man that's fond precociously of stirring,
Must be a spoon.

THOMAS HOOD.

11. MAJOR BROWN.

Ir any man, in any age,
In any town or city,

Was ever valiant, courteous, sage,
Experienced, wise, or witty,

That man was Major Brown by name:
The fact you cannot doubt,

For he himself would say the same,
Ten times a day, about.

The major in the foreign wars
Indifferently had fared;

For he was covered o'er with scars,
Though he was never scared.

But war had now retired to rest,
And piping peace returned;
Yet still within his ardent breast,
The major's spirit burned.

When suddenly he heard of one
Who, in an air balloon

Had gone-I can't tell where he'd gone-
Almost into the moon.

"Let me-let me," the major cries,
"Let me, like him, ascend;
And if it fall that I should rise,
Who knows where it may end ?"

The cords are cut-a mighty shout!—
The globe ascends on high;
And, like a ball from gun shot out,
The major mounts the sky-

Or would have done, but cruel chance

Forbade it so to be;

And bade the major not advance—
Caught in a chestnut-tree.

But soon the awkward branch gives way,
He smooths his angry brow,
Shoots upward, rescued from delay,

And makes the branch a bow:

Till, mounting furlongs now some dozens,
And peeping down, he pants

To see his mother, sisters, cousins,
And uncles, look like ants.

That Brown looked blue I will not say

His uniform was red ;

But he thought that if his car gave way
He should probably be dead.

He gave his manly breast a slap,
And loudly shouted "Courage !"
And waved above his head the cap
In which he used to forage.

And

up he went, and looked around
To see what there might be,
And felt convinced that on the ground
Were better things to see.

A strange bird came his path across,
Whose name he did not know;
Quoth he, "'Tis like an albatross,"-
It proved to be a crow.

"I wish that you would please to drop,"
Quoth Brown to his balloon;—
He might as well have spoken to
The man that's in the moon.

And now the heavens begin to lower,
And thunders loud to roll;

And winds and rains to blow and pour
That would daunt a general's soul.

Such a hurricane to Major Brown
Must most unpleasant be;

And he said, "If I cannot get down,

"Twill be all up with me!"

From his pocket, then, a knife he took—
In Birmingham 'twas made-

The handle was of handsome look,
Of tempered steel the blade.

Says he, "The acquaintance of a balloon
I certainly shall cut;"

So in the silken bag, full soon

His penknife blade he put.

Out rushed the gas imprisoned there,—
The balloon began to sink;

"I shall surely soon get out of the air," Said Major Brown, "I think."

Alas for Brown, balloon, and car,
The gas went out too fast;