Vainly the constable Shouted and called her; Vainly the fisherman Beat the green alder, Vainly he flung the net, Never it hauled her! IV. Mother beside the fire Sat, her nightcap in; Father, in easy chair, Gloomily napping, When at the window-sill Came a light tapping! V. And a pale countenance Looked through the casement. Loud beat the mother's heart, Sick with amazement, And at the vision which Came to surprise her, Shrieked in an agony-- "Lor! it's Elizar!" VI Yes, 'twas Elizabeth-- Yes, 'twas their girl; Pale was her cheek, and her Hair out of curl. "Mother!" the loving one, Blushing, exclaimed, "Let not your innocent Lizzy be blamed. VII. "Yesterday, going to aunt Jones's to tea, Mother, dear mother, I FORGOT THE DOOR-KEY! And as the night was cold, And the way steep, Mrs. Jones kept me to Breakfast and sleep." VIII. Whether her Pa and Ma Fully believed her, That we shall never know, Stern they received her; And for the work of that Cruel, though short, night, Sent her to bed without Tea for a fortnight. IX. MORAL Hey diddle diddlety, Cat and the Fiddlety, Maidens of England take caution by she! Let love and suicide Never tempt you aside, And always remember to take the door-key. LYRA HIBERNICA THE POEMS OF THE MOLONY OF KILBALLYMOLONY. THE PIMLICO PAVILION. Ye pathrons of janius, Minerva and Vanius, Who sit on Parnassus, that mountain of snow, Descind from your station and make observation Of the Prince's pavilion in sweet Pimlico. This garden, by jakurs, is forty poor acres, (The garner he tould me, and sure ought to know;) And yet greatly bigger, in size and in figure, Than the Phanix itself, seems the Park Pimlico. O 'tis there that the spoort is, when the Queen and the Court is Walking magnanimous all of a row, Forgetful what state is among the pataties And the pine-apple gardens of sweet Pimlico. There in blossoms odorous the birds sing a chorus, Of "God save the Queen" as they hop to and fro; And you sit on the binches and hark to the finches, Singing melodious in sweet Pimlico. There shuiting their phanthasies, they pluck polyanthuses That round in the gardens resplindently grow, Wid roses and jessimins, and other sweet specimins, Would charm bould Linnayus in sweet Pimlico. You see when you inther, and stand in the cinther, Where the roses, and necturns, and collyflowers blow, A hill so tremindous, it tops the top-windows Of the elegant houses of famed Pimlico. And when you've ascinded that precipice splindid You see on its summit a wondtherful show-- A lovely Swish building, all painting and gilding, The famous Pavilion of sweet Pimlico.