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Hung midway down his legs, and as before
He grasp'd his little waistband in his hand,
I saw at once, and seeing did deplore
What caus'd to laugh that merry-making band.

"Alas!" I cry'd, "can children take delight

To see a brother's breeches at his heels?

Perhaps, who knows? they slipp'd them down! O sight Deplorable, to one who truly feels

The sin of his humanity!" And then,

I would have cry'd unto those little men,

In tones that must have mov'd them, were they stone, "Fy, naughty boys! do let the child alone.

If you did catch him in that doubtful case,
You should not thus have follow'd him in chase,
But given him time his muslin to replace.
But if you did undo him, as I fear

You did, say, children, did you never hear
Your fathers tell you of the Bad Place, where
They roast up little children that obey

The Wicked One that tells them for to play
Such tricks as these? Ah, simple ones, forbear
Your cruel sport, nor thus the child pursue.

Or, help him button up his trowsers, do!"

Thus, or in some such tones, I would have cry'd, And no doubt should have sham'd them. But I spy'd A buxom girl of eighteen years or more,

Who had a basket on her arm, and wore

A frock with rosebuds stamp'd, and on her head
Had a straw bonnet, which was simply ty'd

With a new riband, which I think was red,

But may have been peagreen. What else she had,

Or if a silken shawl her shoulders clad,

I now forget; or else I never knew ;

Only, one toe was peeping from her shoe.

The maid,

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for maid she surely seem'd to be,

Was of the color of those naughty boys,

Yet suddenly repress'd their clamorous glee.

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'Why, Goodness' mercy! what means all this noise?" Quoth she. "O, I will tell your mothers! See !

See if I don't, that 's all! You little wretches!
Come here, my child! I'll button up your breeches."

Then the good negress, as these words she said, Laid down her basket on a flight of steps,

Whither the hunted sufferer had fled,

And wip'd his eyes, and nose, and cheeks, and lips,
And bade him not to cry, and have no dread.
Then, seizing his small trowsers with one hand,
Without a single blush, (I mark'd her well,
And must have seen it, had her face turn'd red,)
Thrust in the other arm, and, strange to tell!
Tuck'd down his tail, and button'd

up

his band.

When this I saw, delighted I exclaim'd,
Within my heart, "Man is not wholly bad!
While girls like this in cities may be had,
There is some hope the world may be reclaim'd.
Joy with thy soul, dear ebon maiden, go!

More dearly I thy memory will prize

Than if thy checks were of the driven snow,
And bluer than the sky thy raven eyes!

For, setting virgin modesty aside,

Thou didst not look if men were coming near,
But in thy duty buried'st shame and pride,
And heldest charity than time more dear.
O may I find, if ever should betide

A like mishap to my maturer rear,

As little of repugnance in my bride!"

VI.

A DONNA DONA.

BEL discorso ed occhi bei,
Sospir tronchi e finti pianti,
Baci, son d' Amore fanti,
Ma d' ogni altro più vale or.
Chi ha questo, benchè di quei
Non si serva, ma sia altero,
Sciocco, aspro, brutto e severo,
Va cogliendo i fior d' amor.

VII.

PARAPHRASE.

WORDS Soft-spoken, subtle glances,
Broken sighs, and feigned weeping,
Kisses, have of Love the keeping,
But 't is gold that 's worth them all.

Who this holds, yet never chances
On the rest, but even is haughty,
Silly, rough, ill-favor'd, naughty,
Makes Love come and go at call.

VIII.

SERENADE.

OPE the window, ROSALINE;
Listen, listen, lady mine.

Hush the night, no dawn is breaking,

Nothing but thy lover waking,
'Neath the lattice of thy dwelling
Passionate his sorrows telling.

Lift the window, ROSALINE;
Listen, listen, lady mine.

Lady cruel, still thou sleepest,
Still unop'd thy window keepest.
Doth no dream around thee hover,
No kind vision of thy lover?
Him who quits his rest, and waking
Singeth thus, with bosom aching:
Ope the window, ROSALINE;
List, O listen, lady mine!

Is it thou? Now Heaven bless thee!
'T was not in thee to distress me,
Thee of gentle heart, to render
Rude disdain for passion tender,

Sadness o'er his spirit flinging

Who for thee thus waketh, singing:
From thy window, ROSALINE,

Lean, and listen, lady mine!

Hist for other eyes than thine
Now are watching, ROSALINE.

Ah, withdraw! while home I take me,"
With the thoughts that ne'er forsake me,
Happy should my self-denial.
Spare that gentle spirit trial.
Shut the window, ROSALINE;
Sleep, nor listen, lady mine.

IX.

TABLE SONG.

DRINK! drink! whilst we may.

Lads and lasses,

Crown your glasses:

Soon must come the joyless day.

Now her curtain Night hangs o'er us,
Love 's beside, and Mirth before us,

Cup in hand, and lips in chorus,
Let us drink, and sing, and play :

Fal la lah, and fal la lay;

-

And be gay.

Drink! drink! whilst we may.

Etc.

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