The leafy summer-time is young; Beyond the river, bounding all, Of happy children round their chief Their shadows from the setting sun THIS IS MY ELDEST DAUGHTER, SIR. A lively lyric, by F. H. BAYLY. This is my eldest daughter, Sir, Her mother's only care; You praise her face-Oh! Sir, she is As good as she is fair. My angel Grace is clever, too, Accomplishments I've taught her; I'll introduce you to her; Sir, I've sought the aid of ornament, I've tried her beauty unadorn'd; I've set her off, to get her off, Till fallen off I've thought her; Yet I've softly breathed to all the beaux, 'This is my eldest daughter.' I've tried all styles of hair-dressing, Madonnas, frizzes, crops; Her waist I've laced, her back I've braced I've padded her until I have Her gowns all à la Ackerman, Yet, when the season ends, each beau Each party on the water: Yet still she hangs upon my arm ! She did refuse a gentleman— She thought she ought to answer No! He took her at her word! But she'd say yes if any one That's eligible sought her; She really is a charming girl, Though she's my eldest daughter. THE DEPARTURE FROM PARADISE. A fine passage from Mrs. ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING'S Drama of Exile. I, standing here between the glory and dark, The glory of thy wrath projected forth From Eden's wall; the dark of our distress, Lift up to Thee the hands from whence hath fallen With angel looks and angel songs around, Without the uses of her comforting. Eve. Or is it but a dream of thee, that speaks Mine own love's tongue? Adam. Because with her, I stand Upright, as far as can be in this fall, And look away from heaven, which doth accuse me, Eve. I am renew'd: My eyes grow with the light which is in thine; Of any human death; and yet because I know this strength of love, I seem to know Lest it pass outwards in astonishment, And leave thee lonely. Adam. Yet thou liest, Eve, Bent heavily on thyself across mine arm, Eve. Ay! and the tears Running, as it might seem, my life from me; This desolating radiance, cast by swords Rocking against each other-O Lord God! Adam. And was it good for such a prayer to pass, Eve. 'Twas an ill prayer: it shall be prayed no more; And God did use it for a foolishness, Giving no answer. Now my heart has grown I will be first to tread from this sword-glare Adam. As erewhile in the sin. Thus I follow thee, WHERE'S MY MONEY? A clever translation froin the German of GAUDY. Ar, where's my money? That's a puzzling query. 'Tis very Nor pockets are there any holes. For superfluities. I wear plain clothes. More steadily than I. Where is my money? I never tipple. Folks don't see me staggering, So never call a jarvey. It is funny. Astoundedly I ask, Where is my money? My money, mind you. Other people's dollars He laughs, and waxes plumper than a tunny, And search for gold as vainly. Where's my money I can't complain that editors don't pay me ; He Gloves, fogle, stick, or cloak. 'Tis always money. Were I a rake I'd say so. Where one roysters Beyond the rules, of course his cash must go. 'Tis true I regularly sup on oysters, Cheese, brandy, and all that. But even so? What signifies a ducat of a night? "The barmaids," you may fancy. No. The sunny Loadstar that draws my tin is not the light ? From their eyes anyhow. Where then's my money? However, apropos of eyes and maidens, I own I do make presents to the sex Books, watches, trinkets, music too (not Haydn's), Combs, shawls, veils, bonnets-things that might perplex |