The truth is, Sir, now I reflect,

I've been so sadly given to grog,
I wonder I've not lost the respect
(Here's to you, Sir) even of my dog.
But he sticks by, through thick and thin;
And this old coat, with its empty pockets,
And rags that smell of tobacco and gin,

He'll follow while he has eyes in his sockets.

There isn't another creature living

Would do it, and prove, through every disaster, So fond, so faithful, and so forgiving,

To such a miserable, thankless master!
No, Sir! see him wag his tail, and grin !
By George! it makes my old eyes water;
That is, there's something in this gin

That chokes a fellow. But no matter.

We'll have some music, if your willing,

And Roger here (what a plague a cough is, Sir) Shall march a little.-Start, you villain !

Paws up! Eyes front! Salute your officer!

'Bout face! Attention! Take your rifle !

(Some dogs have arms, you see.) Now hold your

Cap while the gentlemen give a trifle

To aid a poor old patriot soldier.

March! Halt! Now show how the Rebel shakes

When he stands up to hear his sentence.

Now tell us how many drams it takes

To honour a jolly new acquaintance.

Five yelps-that's five; he's mighty knowing!
The night's before us, fill the glasses!
Quick, Sir! I'm ill-my brain is going!
Some brandy-thank you-there! it passes.

Why not reform? That's easily said;

But I've gone through such wretched treatment,
Sometimes forgetting the taste of bread,
And scarce remembering what meat meant,
That my poor stomach's past reform;

And there are times when, mad with thinking,
I'd sell out heaven for something warm

To prop a horrible inward sinking.

Is there a way to forget to think?

At your age, Sir, home, fortune, friends, A dear girl's love-but I took to drink

The same old story; you know how it ends.
If you could have seen these classic features-

You needn't laugh, Sir; they were not then
Such a burning libel on God's creatures :
I was one of your handsome men !

If you had seen HER, so fair and young,
Whose head was happy on this breast!
If you could have heard the songs I sung

When the wine went round, you wouldn't have guess'd That ever I, Sir, should be straying

From door to door, with fiddle and dog,

Ragged and penniless, and playing

To you to-night for a glass of grog!

She's married since-a parson's wife:
'Twas better for her that we should part-
Better the soberest, prosiest life

Than a blasted home and a broken heart.
I have seen her! Once: I was weak and spent
On the dusty road: a carriage stopped :
But little she dream'd, as on she went,

Who kiss'd the coin that her fingers dropp'd !

You've set me talking, Sir, I'm sorry :

It makes me wild to think of the change!
What do you care for a beggar's story?
It is amusing? you find it strange?
I had a mother so proud of me!

'Twas well she died before-Do you know

If the happy spirits in heaven can see
The ruin and wretchedness here below?

Another glass, and strong, to deaden

This pain; then Roger and I will start. I wonder, has he such a lumpish, leaden, Aching thing, in place of a heart;

He is sad sometimes, and would weep if he could, No doubt, remembering things that were

A virtuous kennel, with plenty of food,

And himself a sober, respectable cur.

I'm better now; that glass was warming.
You rascal! limber your lazy feet!

We must be fiddling and performing

For supper and bed, or starve in the street.

Not a very gay life to lead, you think?

But soon we shall go where lodgings are free, And the sleepers need neither victuals nor drink; The sooner the better for Roger and me.

PRYTHEE, WHY SO PALE?

SIR JOHN SUCKLING.

WHY SO pale and wan, fond lover?

Prythee, why so pale?

Will, if looking well can't move her,

Looking ill prevail?

Prythee, why so pale ?

Why so mute and dull, young sinner?

Prythee, why so mute?

Will, when speaking well can't win her,

Saying nothing do't?

Prythee, why so mute?

Quit, quit, for shame! this will not move,

This cannot take her :

If of herself she will not love,

Nothing can make her :

The devil take her!

THE CASE ALTERED.

HODGE held a farm, and smiled content
While one year paid another's rent;
But if he ran the least behind
Vexation stung his anxious mind;
For not an hour would landlord stay
But seize the very quarter day:

How cheap soe'er or scant the grain,
Though urged with truth, was urged in vain,
The same to him if false or true,

For rent must come when rent was due.
Yet that same landlord's cows and steeds
Broke Hodge's fence, and crops his meads;
In hunting that same landlord's hounds,
See how they spread his new-sown grounds;
Dog, horse, and man, alike o'erjoyed,
While half the rising crop's destroyed,
Yet tamely was the loss sustain'd;
'Tis said the sufferer once complain'd:
The Squire laugh'd loudly while he spoke,
And paid the bumpkin with a joke.

But luckless still poor Hodge's fate!
His Worship's bull has forced a gate,
And gored his cow, the last and best;
By sickness he had lost the rest.
Hodge felt at heart resentment strong,
The heart will feel that suffers long.