ing music like the South,
(He really brings my heart into my mouth!)
Fresh as the morn, and brilliant as its star,--
(I wish that window had an iron bar!)
Bold as the hawk, yet gentle as the dove,--
(I'll tell you what, my love,
I cannot write, unless he's sent above!)

IV. A SERENADE.

"Lullaby, oh, lullaby!"
Thus I heard a father cry,
"Lullaby, oh, lullaby!"
The brat will never shut an eye;
Hither come, some power divine!
Close his lids, or open mine!

"Lullaby, oh, lullaby!
What the devil makes him cry?
Lullaby, oh, lullaby!
Still he stares--I wonder why,
Why are not the sons of earth
Blind, like puppies, from the birth?"

"Lullaby, oh, lullaby!"
Thus I heard the father cry;
"Lullaby, oh, lullaby!
Mary, you must come and try!--
Hush, oh, hush, for mercy's sake--
The more I sing, the more you wake!"

"Lullaby, oh, lullaby!
Fie, you little creature, fie!
Lullaby, oh, lullaby!
Is no poppy-syrup nigh?
Give him some, or give him all,
I am nodding to his fall!"

"Lullaby, oh, lullaby!
Two such nights, and I shall die!
Lullaby, oh, lullaby!
He'll be bruised, and so shall I,--"
"How can I from bedposts keep,
When I'm walking in my sleep?"

"Lullaby, oh, lullaby!
Sleep his very looks deny--
Lullaby, oh, lullaby;
Nature soon will stupefy--
My nerves relax,--my eyes grow dim--
Who's that fallen--me or him?"

THE GREEN MAN.

Tom Simpson was as nice a kind of man
As ever lived--at least at number Four,
In Austin Friars, in Mrs. Brown's first floor,
At fifty pounds,--or thereabouts,--per ann.
The Lady reckon'd him her best of lodgers,
His rent so punctually paid each quarter,--
He did not smoke like nasty foreign codgers--
Or play French horns like Mr. Rogers--
Or talk his flirting nonsense to her daughter.--
Not that the girl was light behaved or courtable--
Still on one failing tenderly to touch,
The Gentleman did like a drop too much,
(Tho' there are many such)
And took more Port than was exactly portable.
In fact,--to put the cap upon the nipple,
And try the charge,--Tom certainly _did_ tipple.
He thought the motto was but sorry stuff
On Cribb's Prize Cup--Yes, wrong in ev'ry letter--
That "D----d be he who first cries _Hold Enough!_"
The more cups hold, and if enough, the better.
And so to set example in the eyes
Of Fancy's lads, and give a broadish hint to them,
All his cups were of such ampl