at the postern door;--
While she sighs forth "My gentle cavalier!"--
And then they straightway fall to kissing hands,
And antic-gestures--such as lovers use,--
Expressive of their wish quickly to tie
The gordian knot of marriage;--Pretty creatures!--
But why not earlier to have thought of this?--
When he, the innocent youth, was wont to play
At coscogilla; and the prattling girl,
Amid her nursery companions, toiled
In sempstress labours for her wooden dolls.--
Ah! wherefore, did I ask?--Because forsooth,
Their ways are changed with their increasing years!--
For when for gallantry the time be come--
And when the stagnant blood begins to boil
Within the veins, my master--then the lads
Cast longing looks on damosels--for nature
Defies restraint--and kin-birds flock together!--
And think not, Master, _Chance_ disposes thus;
Or were it so, then chance directs us all--
Whene'er we have attain'd the important age!
I, ------, am a living instance!--
Was I not once a lively laughing boy?
And, in my stripling age, did I not love
The pastimes suited to those madcap days?--
Oh! would to heaven those times were present still!
But wherefore fret myself with hopes so vain?--
The silly thought doth find no shelter here,--
That any beauty, with dark roguish eyes,
With sparkling blood, and rising warmth of youth,
Would e'er affect this wrinkled face of mine:--
The very thought doth smack of foolishness!--
And, though the truth may be a bitter pill,
Yet,--
It is most fitting that we know ourselves.

_Spanish Comedy--Foreign Review._

* * * * *

A HINT TO RETIRING CITIZENS.

Ye Cits who at White Conduit House,
Hampstead or Holloway carouse,
Let no vain wish disturb ye;
For rural pleasures unexplored,
Take those your Sabbath strolls afford,
And prize your _Rus in urbe_.

For many who from active trades
Have plung'd into sequester'd shades,
Will dismally assure ye,
That it's a harder task to bear
Th' ennui produced by country air,
And sigh for _Urbs in rure_.

The cub in prison born and fed,
The bird that in a cage was bred,
The hutch-engender'd rabbit,
Are like the long-imprison'd Cit,
For sudden liberty unfit,
Degenerate by habit.

Sir William Curtis, were he mew'd
In some romantic solitude,
A bower of rose and myrtle,
Would find the loving turt