AH! cruel was the parting night
When I from Jenny tore away!
I linger'd till the growing light

Proclaim'd the unwelcome dawn of day:
Too soon, alas! it brighten'd in the sky;
Too quickly did the fatal moments fly.

The hour was come so fraught with woe,
And I must leave my dear behind.
Oft did I turn my step to go;

As oft a respite turn'd to find;

As oft the dew-drops from her eye-lids fell
To hear the sad, heart-rending word 'farewel.'

So the poor wretch, whom some fierce blast
Whelms in the ocean's foaming tide,
Clings to the fragment of a mast,

While furious billows o'er him ride,
Some little longer space of life to gain
Before he perish in the restless main.

"Then go!" she cried, "since Jenny's love "No more can tempt thee here to stay; "Too soon wilt thou forgetful prove,

"Nor think of me when far away;

"But like yon sun-beam that now gilds the sky, "Thy changeful love from clime to clime shall fly.

"Yet surely thou wilt not betray
"That faith which I too easy gave;
"Nor let each vow of truth decay

"Like traces on the liquid wave.

"Ah no! I know thou wilt not faithless prove, "But trust thee to thine honour and thy love."

She ceas'd; nor could I make reply,
But gaz'd a moment on her charms;
Then while I check'd the bursting sigh,
I clasp'd her silent in my arms.

Thick heaving sobs from her fair bosom stole,
While anguish triumph'd o'er my tortur'd soul.

I left her and across the main

The winds impell'd the swelling sail, Her tears, her sorrows were in vain,

My heart's own wish could nought avail. Ah fool! to quit the sweetest tenderest fair That ever yet gave youthful lover care!

But Jenny! by that parting kiss!

By that embrace which still I feel! By all my hopes of promis'd bliss!

By those soft tears that trickling steal! This constant heart shall thine for ever be, Nor know a wish that does not tend to thee.

PRESIDENT WHISKEY.

[A new ballad to an old tune.]

SOME talk of Sir Richard and some of Sir John, And some pay their homage to Emperor Port, But believe me at best they are only a jest

Compar'd to good Whiskey, the father of sport.

'Twas but t'other day at the town in the woods
Where meet the wise heads in a grand consultation;
They resolved to choose (believe but the Muse)
A congressional drink for the good of the nation.

Too long to molasses and water confin'd

They said that their force could no longer hold out, 'Mid such weighty affairs, if to soften their cares, They could not get a potion of something more

stout.

Then so great was the bustle the point to decide,
E'en Louisiana was thought of no more,
Till the business came on, and was carried nem. con.
That republican Switchel be kick'd out of door.

But to choose its successor was not done so soon,
For each prais'd the liquor he lov'd, as divine;
E'en Mammoth the great fell asleep as he sate
And dream'd that Missouri ran purple with wine.

Some spoke of Peach Brandy, and some of Brown

Stout,

And others of Cider so sparkling and clear;

Some endeavour'd to gain the cause for Champaigne, While a few were contented with Baltimore Beer.

Some sugarsops too were to Malmsey inclin'd,

And others for Burgundy had a great notion,

While some swore that Sherry would make them so merry,

Not nectar itself could deserve more devotion.

One said that a good constitutional bowl

Of Punch were an emblem fit for the occasion, Where strong, sweet and sour together you pour, Like president, senate, and representation.

Beau Trippet wish'd much for a glass of Liqueur, Which so lately he sipp'd with the ladies in France, But said for a dram he would not give a damn While he could get good Cogniac or old Nantz.

Squire Bowwow then rose with a belly rotund

And made a short speech for a bottle of Port, When we come from the race or have finish'd the

chace,

Of the fox this will give the best crown to our

sport.

When with a grave face Dr. Septon got up
And gave a long talk which but few understood

X

But the meaning was this, if I heard not amiss, "Lime-water and Soapsuds would do them more good."

But, sage of Manhatten, thy rhet'ric was vain, For patriot Van Stagger observ'd with a grin, "I surely mush tink dat a mush petter trink,

(If you pys it from me) is my own Hollands Gin."

But Gin, Port, and Soapsuds were all of them scouted
When orator Bumper began his discourse,
Who in praise of Madeira with rhetoric cheery
Knew how to his subject to give the most force.-