Kiss the dear lip, the swelling breast,

The snow-white hand, the forehead kiss ; 'Tis by the lip the joy's exprest,

And 'tis the lip repays the bliss.

Ah, no! that lip is but a pledge

Of future joys, that are not gone;
The harbinger of heavenly love,

That leads the way to joys to come.

When lovers' lips in transport join,
Their souls to share that transport fly,
And on their mingling breaths combine,
The purple form of life supply.

Then each inspired kiss impart,

In sounds half utter'd, half supprest,
The tender secrets of their hearts,
Secrets alone to lips confest.

Where soul is thus with soul entwined

The living rapture is improved:

"Tis rapture of the sweetest kind

To kiss when kiss'd, to love when loved.

AMATOR.

SONG OF GLORY-BATTLE OF THE RIVAL DUKES.

Tune-" Bow, Wow, Wow!"

What is the love of country-home?

It is a natural feeling;

Quite single in the breast of some;

In others, double-dealing.

For principles like practice are

Amongst a brood of lawyers;
A sight of gold dispels dull care,
And, like a pair of plyers,

They turn and squeeze, and sideways twist,

Till twisted into place, sir;

They turn the mill-they steal the grist

Nor mind the foul disgrace, sir.

In noble men, a noble mind
Exists, in different ways, sir;
The one the people pay in kind,
The people t'other pays, sir.

A noble Duke of late abused
His politic opponent,

Who thought himself most cruel used,
And, in a desperate moment,

He seized his quill-a challenge sent:
Bedford thought it not a hard one;
And so to Buckingham he went,
That is, to Kensington Garden.

There Lynedoch trod ten paces wide,
The mighty business to begin;
No harm from this there could betide,
When back'd by Watkins Billy Wynne.

By signal they fired each a shot,
Which turn'd out all a joke, sir,
For neither party went to pot;
It was a bottle of smoke, sir.

"You fired o'er my head," said Buck,
"That shall the business settle;
Hereafter it shall be our luck
To be thought men of mettle."

σ No public metal can me hit,"
Said Bedford, " that a joke is;
Of personal malice me acquit,
I you of corrupt motives."

"With all my heart," said Buckingham,

Thus ended an illustrious storm,
The scene of humour's sport, sir;
One parted to create reform,

And t'other went to court, sir.

Bow, wow, wow, fal, ral, &c. &c.

AN AMATORY EPISTLE FROM A TAYLOR AT MARGATE TO A CERTAIN LADY IN CANTERBURY.

“She wanted much to gain his heart,
"And share of every tender part!

"But heaven decreed that she should find
"No honour in the tailor's mind;
"Should find her love rejected, spurn'd,
"And all her prospects overturn'd!"

"Your letter, dear Lucy, came safe to my hand;
The contents, homsomever, I don't understand:
You tell me a tale, rather strange, I confess,
Which can't but create me most poignant distress;
I mean that queer story concerning the beau,
With whom, it appears, you are half bent to go,
Forgetting the vows which you made when we lay,
Unseen by the world, on the cock of new hay!
Where you swore that you thought me the finest of men,
And ask'd me to kiss you again and again :

He is, I've no doubt, a most wonderful star,

And pleases your darling papa and mamma,

Who, though they have not got a THOUSAND to spare,
For the hundreds of others will hunt with due care,
And, therefore, the poor slighted "knight of the YARD"
Will be left in the lurch, nor enjoy your regard!

Oh, Lucy! I envy the fellow the blisses

Which he's sure to enjoy in your excellent kisses !
And when I reflect on his raptures au lit,

I grow as unhappy as tailor can be;

prich Niet my nama, ny muz telence

Abroad, with the whigh, Nirm Grezarṛag her fruri.

*w* * minent to think of a mate,

Esto fully intend you shall be, when the weather
Þetta trak od mom getting again CLOSE TOGETHER!
For bmw muf your ardent, affectionate lover,
bar Luny, all this will be over
Hot Com ham, both blessing and blest,
Auf BCCLE MORAH to set you at rest!

present port dream the joy that's to come,
Af venting all that which is OVER-BE MUM! .

PETER CLOSE-STITCH.