No corselet is so proof But through it from her bow Thus always it was ruled : The strong man was a child, Alcides was befool'd, And silly Samson shorn, Long, long ere you were born, Poor Yankee Doodle! THE PEN AND THE ALBUM. "I AM Miss Catherine's book," the Album speaks; "I've lain among your tomes these many weeks; I'm tired of their old coats and yellow cheeks. Quick, Pen! and write a line with a good grace: Come! draw me off a funny little face; And, prithee, send me back to Chesham Place." PEN. "I am my master's faithful old Gold Pen; I've served him three long years, and drawn since then Thousands of funny women and droll men. "O Album! could I tell you all his ways And thoughts, since I am his, these thousand days, ALBUM. His ways? his thoughts? Just whisper me a few ; And write 'em quickly off, good Mordan, do!" PEN. "Since he my faithful service did engage "Caricatures I scribbled have, and rhymes, And dinner-cards, and picture pantomimes, And merry little children's books at times. "I've writ the foolish fancy of his brain; The aimless jest that, striking, hath caused pain; "I've help'd him to pen many a line for bread; "I've spoke with men of all degree and sortPeers of the land, and ladies of the Court; Oh, but I've chronicled a deal of sport! "Feasts that were ate a thousand days ago, Biddings to wine that long hath ceased to flow, Gay meetings with good fellows long laid low; "Summons to bridal, banquet, burial, ball, Tradesman's polite reminders of his small Account due Christmas last-I've answer'd all. "Poor Diddler's tenth petition for a halfGuinea; Miss Bunyan's for an autograph; So I refuse, accept, lament, or laugh, "Condole, congratulate, invite, praise, scoff, Day after day still dipping in my trough, And scribbling pages after pages off. 66 Day after day the labour's to be done, And sure as comes the postman and the sun, "Go back, my pretty little gilded tome, 66 To a fair mistress and a pleasant home, Where soft hearts greet us whensoe'er we come! Dear, friendly eyes, with constant kindness lit, However rude my verse, or poor my wit, Or sad or gay my mood, you welcome it. "Kind lady! till my last of lines is penn'd, My master's love, grief, laughter, at an end, Whene'er I write your name, may I write friend! "Not all are so that were so in past years; Voices, familiar once, no more he hears; Names, often writ, are blotted out in tears. "So be it :-joys will end and tears will dryAlbum! my master bids me wish good-by, He'll send you to your mistress presently. "And thus with thankful heart he closes you; Blessing the happy hour when a friend he knew So gentle, and so generous, and so true. "Nor pass the words as idle phrases by; MRS. KATHERINE'S LANTERN. WRITTEN IN A LADY'S ALBUM. "Coming from a gloomy court, Place of Israelite resort, This old lamp I've brought with me. The initials K and E." "An old lantern brought to me? Turning up a pretty nose)— Pray, sir, take the old thing back. I've no taste for bricabrac." "Please to mark the letters twain " (I'm supposed to speak again)— "Graven on the lantern pane. Can you tell me who was she, "Full a hundred years are gone There, on summer nights, it hung, "Hush in the canal below Don't you hear the plash of oars O the ravishing tenore! "Lady, do you know the tune? Ah, we all of us have hummed it! When he was young as you are young, |