The Book of Ballads Part 19

"Let me ever gaze upon thee, Look into thine eyes so deep; With a daring hand I won thee, With a faithful heart I'll keep.

"Oh, my Helen, thou bright wonder, Who was ever like to thee?

Jove would lay aside his thunder, So he might be blest like me.

"How mine eyes so fondly linger On thy smooth and pearly skin; Scan each round and rosy finger, Drinking draughts of beauty in!

"Tell me, whence thy beauty, fairest?

Whence thy cheek's enchanting bloom?

Whence the rosy hue thou wearest; Breathing round thee rich perfume?"

Thus he spoke, with heart that panted, Clasped her fondly to his side, Gazed on her with look enchanted, While his Helen thus replied:

"Be no discord, love, between us, If I not the secret tell!

'Twas a gift I had of Venus,-- Venus, who hath loved me well;

"And she told me as she gave it, 'Let not e'er the charm be known; O'er thy person freely lave it, Only when thou art alone.'

"'Tis enclosed in yonder casket-- Here behold its golden key; But its name--love, do not ask it, Tell't I may not, even to thee!"

Long with vow and kiss he plied her; Still the secret did she keep, Till at length he sank beside her, Seemed as he had dropped to sleep.

Soon was Helen laid in slumber, When her Paris, rising slow, Did his fair neck disenc.u.mber From her rounded arms of snow.

Then, her heedless fingers oping, Takes the key and steals away, To the ebon table groping, Where the wondrous casket lay;

Eagerly the lid uncloses, Sees within it, laid aslope, PEARS' LIQUID BLOOM OF ROSES, Cakes of his TRANSPARENT SOAP!

A Warning.

Lose thou no time! A grave and solemn warning, Yet seldom ta'en, to man's eternal cost.

Night wanes, day lessens, evening, noon, and morning Flit by unseen, and yet much time is lost.

And why? Are moments useless as the vapour That rises from the lamp's extinguish'd flame!

Why do we, like the moth around the taper, Sport with the fire that must consume our frame?

Be wise in time! Arouse thee, oh thou sleeper, Account thy moments dearer than thy gold; While time thou hast, appoint a good time-keeper To treasure up thine hours till thou art old.

Lose but this chance, and thou art lost for ever,-- Seek him who keeps a watch for sinking souls-- Ask for c.o.x SAVORY'S HORIZONTAL LEVER, With double case, and jewell'd in four holes!

To Persons About to Marry.

Gentle pair, ere Hymen binds you In his fetters, soft but sure, Pray, bethink you, have you ever Had substantial furniture?

Love's a fickle G.o.d, they tell us, Giddy-pated, lightly led, Therefore it were well you found him In a comfortable bed.

Olive branches soon will blossom Round your table, two or three; And that table should be made of Good and strong mahogany.

If the cares of life should gather, And we all must look for cares,-- Sorrow falls extremely lightly In the midst of rosewood chairs.

Few that walk can 'scape a stumble, Thus hath said The Prophet-King; But your fall will be a light one On Axminster carpeting.

We can keep your little children From collision with the grate-- We have wardrobes, we have presses At a reasonable rate;

Mirrors for the queen of beauty Basins of the purest stone, Ottomans which Cleopatra Might have envied on her throne.

Seek us ere you taste with rapture Love's sweet draught of filter'd honey, And you'll find the safest plan is, NO DISCOUNT, AND READY MONEY!

Want Places.

Wants a place a lad, who's seen Pious life at brother Teazle's, Used to cleaning boots, and been Touch'd with grace, and had the measles.

Wants a place as housemaid, or Companion to a bachelor, Up in years, and who'd prefer A person with no character, A female, who in this respect, Would leave him nothing to object.

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS

The Lay of the Lover's Friend.

[AIR--"_The days we went a-gypsying_."]

I would all womankind were dead, Or banished o'er the sea; For they have been a bitter plague These last six weeks to me: It is not that I'm touched myself, For that I do not fear; No female face has shown me grace For many a bygone year.

But 'tis the most infernal bore, Of all the bores I know, To have a friend who's lost his heart A short time ago.

Whene'er we steam it to Blackwall, Or down to Greenwich run, To quaff the pleasant cider-cup, And feed on fish and fun; Or climb the slopes of Richmond Hill, To catch a breath of air: Then, for my sins, he straight begins To rave about his fair.

Oh, 'tis the most tremendous bore, Of all the bores I know, To have a friend who's lost his heart A short time ago.

In vain you pour into his ear Your own confiding grief; In vain you claim his sympathy, In vain you ask relief; In vain you try to rouse him by Joke, repartee, or quiz; His sole reply's a burning sigh, And "What a mind it is!"

O Lord! it is the greatest bore, Of all the bores I know, To have a friend who's lost his heart A short time ago.

I've heard her thoroughly described A hundred times, I'm sure; And all the while I've tried to smile, And patiently endure; He waxes strong upon his pangs, And potters o'er his grog; And still I say, in a playful way-- "Why, you're a lucky dog!"

But oh! it is the heaviest bore, Of all the bores I know, To have a friend who's lost his heart A short time ago.