Then may the union lasting be, Between dear Isabelle and thee. Oh, I forgot; ’tis sweet May-day, When Flora paints the mead so gay. Go to your own romantic bower, And gather there the choicest flower; Entwine your wreath with snow-drops, too, And then ’twill more resemble you. LINES, On presenting two Italian images, in the attitude of dancing, with tambourine and bowl in hand, to a friend. Dear Madam, we of late have left our homes, To view the beauties of your stately rooms; I do admire them! they’re so grand and neat; And with your kind consent I’ll take a seat. Seat, did I say? Oh, no; I meant to stand; Because, dear Madam, we’re at your command. But where’s Miss China Aster?[B]--that’s too plain; The sweet-stock Gillyflower shall be her name. I hear she’s very good, as well as gay; Perhaps she’ll intercede for us to stay. And where is grand-mama, who’s so discreet? We’d bow respectfully before her feet; And cousin Hannah, she is mild and meek-- Her argument I love; it is so sweet. Ladies, should you consent for us to light, The green-room ever would be our delight. We’re very fond, you know of rural scenes; And white is beautiful beside the green. You see we often step the merry dance, But ’tis with your consent that we advance. You dislike music, ma’m, we have been told, And our is simple--centres in the bowl. Ladies, should you dislike for us to stay, Kindly conduct us o’er the ferry way.[C] Madam, my friend upbraids me for my chat; I have to speak for both. Should you like that? THE REPLY.