Now Ben had sail'd to many a place

That's underneath the world;

But in two years the ship came home, And all her sails were furl'd.

But when he call'd on Sally Brown, To see how she got on,

He found she'd got another Ben,

Whose Christian-name was John.

"Oh, Sally Brown, Oh, Sally Brown,

How could you serve me so,

I've met with many a breeze before,

But never such a blow!"

Then reading on his 'bacco box,

He heav'd a heavy sigh,

And then began to eye his pipe,

And then to pipe his eye.

And then he tried to sing "All's Well,"

But could not, though he tried;

His head was turn'd, and so he chew'd

His pigtail till he died.

His death, which happen'd in his birth,

At forty-odd befell:

They went and told the sexton, and

The sexton toll'd the bell.

BIANCA'S DREAM.

A VENETIAN STORY.

1.

BIANCA -fair Bianca !-who could dwell
With safety on her dark and hazel gaze,
Nor find there lurk'd in it a witching spell,
Fatal to balmy nights and blessed days?
The peaceful breath that made the bosom swell,
She turn'd to gas, and set it in a blaze;
Each eye of hers had Love's Eupyrion in it,
That he could light his link at in a minute.

II.

So that, wherever in her charms she shone,

A thousand breasts were kindled into flame ;
Maidens who cursed her looks forgot their own,
And beaux were turn'd to flambeaux where she came ;
All hearts indeed were conquer'd but her own,
Which none could ever temper down or tame:

In short, to take our haberdasher's hints,
She might have written over it," From Flints."

III.

She was, in truth, the wonder of her sex,

At least in Venice-where with eyes of brown Tenderly languid, ladies seldom vex

An amorous gentle with a needless frown; Where gondolas convey guitars by pecks,

And love at casements climbeth up and down, Whom for his tricks and custom in that kind, Some have considered a Venetian blind.

IV.

Howbeit, this difference was quickly taught, Amongst more youths who had this cruel jailor, To hapless Julio-all in vain he sought

With each new moon his hatter and his tailor; In vain the richest padusoy he bought,

And went in bran new beaver to assail her— As if to show that Love had made him smart All over-and not merely round his heart.

V.

In vain he labour'd thro' the sylvan park
Bianca haunted in-that where she came,
Her learned eyes in wandering might mark
The twisted cypher of her maiden name,
Wholesomely going thro' a course of bark:

No one was touched or troubled by his flame, Except the Dryads, those old maids that grow In trees,-like wooden dolls in embryo.