THE COURTSHIP AND WEDDING.

A

S I went to the wake that is held on the green,

I met with young Phoebe, as blithe as a queen; A form so divine might an anchorite move, And I found (tho' a clown) I was smitten with love: So I ask'd for a kiss, but she, blushing, replied, Indeed, gentle shepherd, you must be denied.

Lovely Phoebe, says I, don't affect to be shy,
I vow I will kiss you-here's nobody by;
No matter for that, she replied, 'tis the same;
For know, silly shepherd, I value my fame;
So pray let me go, I shall surely be miss'd;
Besides, I'm resolved that I will not be kiss'd.

Lord bless me! I cried, I'm surprised you refuse;

A few harmless kisses but serve to amuse;

TO MILDRED.

The month it is May, and the season for love, So come, my dear girl, to the wake let us rove. No, Damon, she cried, I must first be your wife, You then shall be welcome to kiss me for life.

Well, come then, I cried, to the church let us go,
But after, dear Phoebe must never say "No."
Do you prove but true, (she replied,) you shall find
I'll ever be constant, good-humour'd and kind.
So I kiss when I please, for she ne'er says she won't,
And I kiss her so much, that I wonder she don't.

ANONYMOUS.

TO MILDRED.

OU shun me like a fawn, my dearest Milly,

You

That seeks its mother on the pathless hills, Trembling at every sound-the little silly

Of whispering breezes or of gurgling rills.

KITTY OF COLERAINE.

Gazing, with trembling knees and beating heart, At new-found marvels that she dare not pass;

And bounding off again with sudden start

From rustling leaves or lizards in the grass.

Don't be alarmed, my darling-I won't eat youI'm not a Bengal tiger nor a lion;

Leave your mamma for one who'll never cheat you;

You'd like a husband if you'd only try one.

When she saw me she stumbled, the pitcher it tum

bled,

And all the sweet butter-milk water'd the plain.

KITTY OF COLERAINE.

O, what shall I do now, 'twas looking at you now,

Sure, sure, such a pitcher I'll ne'er meet again, 'Twas the pride of my dairy, O, Barney M'Leary, You're sent as a plague to the girls of Coleraine.

I sat down beside her,—and gently did chide her, That such a misfortune should give her such pain, A kiss then I gave her,—before I did leave her, She vow'd for such pleasure she'd break it again.

'Twas hay-making season, I can't tell the reason, Misfortunes will never come single,—that's plain,

For, very soon after poor Kitty's disaster,

The devil a pitcher was whole in Coleraine.

ANONYMOUS.

380

A BALL-ROOM ROMANCE.

A

FAIR good-night to thee, love,

A fair good-night to thee,

And pleasant be thy path, love,

Though it end not with me.

Liking light as ours, love,

Was never meant to last;

It was a moment's fantasy,

And as such it has passed.

e met in lighted halls,

And our spirits took their tone,

ike other dreams of midnight

With colder morning flown.

And thinkest thou to ever win
A single tear from me?

Lightly won and lightly lost,

I shed no tear for thee.