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And many a town and village fair, and many a field

so green,

Before her wondering eyes appear'd, a strange and curious scene.

And as she gazed, in wonder lost, on all the scene around,

She saw a peasant at her feet, a-tilling of the


The little creature crawl'd about so slowly here and there,

And, lighted by the morning sun, his plough shone bright and fair.

"Oh, pretty plaything!" cried the child, "I'll take thee home with me;"

Then with her infant hands she spread her kerchief on her knee,

And cradling horse, and man, and plough, all gently on her arm,

She bore them home with cautious steps, afraid to do them harm!

She hastes with joyous steps and quick (we know what children are),

And spying soon her father out, she shouted from


“O father, dearest father, such a plaything I have


I never saw so fair a one on our own mountain


Her father sat at table then, and drank his wine so.


And smiling with a parent's smile, he asks the

happy child,

"What struggling creature hast thou brought so carefully to me?

Thou leap'st for joy, my girl; come, open, let us


She opes her kerchief carefully, and gladly you may deem,

And shows her eager sire the plough, the peasant, and his team;

And when she placed before his sight the newfound pretty toy,

She clasp'd her hands, and scream'd aloud, and cried for very joy.

But her father look'd quite seriously, and shaking slow his head,

"What hast thou brought me home, my child ?— this is no toy," he said;


'Go, take it quickly back again, and put it down


The peasant is no plaything, girl,-how could'st thou think him so?

"So go, without a sigh or sob, and do my will," he


"For know, without the peasant, girl, we none of us had bread:

'Tis from the peasant's hardy stock the race of giants are;

The peasant is no plaything, child-no-God forbid he were!"


Prince Eugene.

PRINCE EUGENE once in Swabia paid visits far and wide,

And 'mong the rest to Reutlingen this favour did


Now, what a stir the hero made my verses scarce can tell,

Or how the honour to express that to the mayor


As he a council gather'd quick to signify the same, And by some act to show his sense of Eugene's mighty name.

Much argued they what best to say:

Whether with shouts and cheers to hail the hero on his way,

With feast and dance to bid him speed, and tell his great renown,

Or with the victor's golden wreath his honour'd brows to crown:

Long the debate and eloquent that hatch'd the bright design,

To pledge him in a flowing cup of famed Reutlingen


And now unto the Prince they brought a bowl with quantum suff.

Of this true wine of Reutlingen-right sour and nauseous stuff!

With heart of grace Prince Eugene quick despatch'd the potion down,

Though sorely rued he on such terms to gratify the


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"Ay," thought the cits, to see him so imbibe their griping wine,

"That beaker had the genuine smack, by such a potent sign;

Haste! bring another-quick as thought-a bowl both large and wide,

That now the Prince our famous wine may quaff in flowing tide!"

Alas, poor Prince, how ached thy jaws to hear so dire a speech!

As if his latest hour were come, he gravely did be


To taste no more in hall or bower of such a nauseous stuff,

Of which I wot he felt right well his skin had quantum suff.

With thanks and bows Prince Eugene then address'd the mayor's train:

"Much rather, honoured councillors, I'd storm Belgrade again,

Than face another such a draught of sour Reutlingen wine.

Take my advice, if stuff like this you swallow when you dine,

Drink it, and welcome, but to ask your luckless guests refrain;

For rather, through the smoke and flame, I'd storm Belgrade again."


How-d're-do and Good-bye.

ONE day Good-bye met How-d'ye-do,
Too close to shun saluting;

But soon the rival sisters flew,
From kissing to disputing.

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Away," says How-d'ye-do, "your
Appals my cheerful nature :
No name so sad as yours is seen
In sorrow's nomenclature.


"Where'er I give one sunshine hour,

Your cloud comes in to shade it ;
Where'er I plant one bosom flower,
Your mildew drops to fade it.

"Ere How-d'ye-do has tuned each tongue
To Hope's delighted measure,'
Good-bye on Friendship's ear has rung
The knell of parting pleasure!

"From sorrows past, my chemic skill
Draws smiles of consolation;
While you, from present joys, distil
The tears of separation."

Good-bye replied, "Your statement's true,
And well your cause you've pleaded;
But pray who'd think of How-d'ye-do,
Unless Good-bye preceded?

"Without my prior influence,

Could yours have ever flourish'd ? And can your hand one flower dispense, But those my tears have nourish'd?

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