For full five hundred years I've swung In my old grey turret high, And many a different theme I've sung As the time went stealing by! I've peal'd the chaunt of a wedding morn; Ere night I have sadly toll'd, To say that the bride was coming, love-lorn, To sleep in the church-yard mould! Ding-dong, My careless song; Merry and sad, But neither long! For full five hundred years I've swung In my ancient turret high, And many a different theme I've sung As the time went stealing by! I've swell'd the joy of a country's pride For a victory far off won, Then changed to grief for the brave that died Ere my mirth had well begun! Ding-dong, My careless song; Merry or sad, But neither long! For full five hundred years I've swung In my breezy turret high, And many a different theme I've sung As the time went stealing by! I have chimed the dirge of a nation's grief On the death of a dear-loved king, Then merrily rung for the next young chief; As _told_, I can weep or sing! Ding-dong, My careless song; Merry or sad, But neither long! For full five hundred years I've swung In my crumbling turret high; 'Tis time my own death-song were sung, And with truth before I die! I never could love the themes they gave My tyrannized tongue to tell: One moment for cradle, the next for grave-- They've worn out the old church bell! Ding-dong, My changeful song; Farewell now, And farewell long! W. [Illustration: Midnight Mishaps] MIDNIGHT MISHAPS. BY EDWARD MAYHEW. WITH AN ILLUSTRATION BY GEORGE CRUIKSHANK. Oh the rural suburbs of London!--the filthy suburbs!--where nothing is green but the water, nothing natural but the dirt,--where the trees are clipt into poles, and the hedges grow behind palings,--where "no thoroughfare" forbids you to walk in one place, and the dust prevents you from walking in another,--the filthy suburbs! It was these delightful precincts of peace and "_caution_," retirement and "_handsome rewards_," that Mr. Jacob Tweasle honoured with his decided preference. This gentleman had inhabited a small shop at the foot of Snow-hill for more than forty years, retailing tobacco to the tradesmen, and cigars to the apprentices; and, having by supplying other people's boxes gradually filled his own, he, how in his sixtieth year, declined the manufacture of weeds for the cultivation of exotics.