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56 Ah! knew'st thou how we find it sweet
“ Beneath the wayes to go, Thyself would leave the hook's deceit, “ And live with us below.
“ Love not their splendour in the main
6 The sun and moon to lave? 6 Look not their beams as bright again,
• Reflected on the wave?
“ Tempts not this river's glassy blue,
“ So crystal, clear and bright ? “ Tempts not thy shade, which bathes in dew,
“ And shares our cool delight?”—
The water rush'd, the water swell’d,
The fisherman sat nigh;
And long'd the wave to try.
To him the said, to him she sung,
The river's guileful queen :
And never more was seen.
LANDLORD, another bowl of punch, and comrades fill
your glasses ! First in another bumper toast our pretty absent lasses, Then hear how sad and strange a sight my chance it was to
fee, While lately, in the · Lovely Nan,' returning from Goree!
As all alone at dead of night along the deck I wander'd,
der'd, Sudden a ghastly form appear’d, in dripping trowsers rigg'd, And soon, with strange surprise and fear, Jack Tackle's
ghost I twigg'd.
_"Dear Tom," quoth he, “ I hither come a doleful tale
to tell ye ! “A monstrous fish has safely stow'd your comrade in his
belly; “ Groggy last night, my luck was such, that overboard I
slid, “When a shark snapp'd and chew'd me, just as now you
chew that quid.
“Old Nick, who seem'd confounded glad to catch my soul
a napping, Straight tax'd me with that buxom dame, the tailor's wife
at Wapping; " In vain I begg’d, and swore, and jaw’d; Nick no excuse
would hear; Quoth he, – You lubber, make your will, and dam'me,
“ Tom, to the 'foresaid tailor's wife I leave my worldly
riches, “But keep yourself, my faithful friend, my bran-new linen
breeches; " Then, when you wear them, sometimes give one thought
to Jack that's dead, “ Nor leave those galligatkins off while there remains ons
At hearing Jack's sad tale, my heart, you well may think,
was bleeding; The spirit weil perceived my grief, and seem’d to be pro
ceeding, But here, it so fell out, he sneezed :-Says I—" God bless
you, Jack !"
And poor Jack Tackle’s grimly ghost was vanish'd in a
Now comrades, timely warning take, and landlord fill the
bowl; Jack Tackle, for the tailor's wife, has damn’d his precious
soul; Old Nick's a devilish dab, it seems, at snapping up a failor's, So if you kiss your neighbour's wife, be sure she's not a
THE PRINCESS AND THE SLAVE.
M. G.. LEWIS.
WHERE fragrant breezes figh'd through orange bowers,