The shades of night had fallen (_at last!_) When from the Eagle Tavern pass'd A youth, who bore, in manual vice, A pot of something monstrous nice-- XX--oh lor! His brow was bad--his young eye scann'd The frothing flagon in his hand, And like a gurgling streamlet sprung The accents to that thirsty tongue, XX--oh lor! In happy homes he saw them grub On stout, and oysters from a tub,-- The dismal gas-light gleamed without, And from his lips escaped a shout, "XX--oh lor!" "Young man," the Sage observ'd, "just stay, And let me dip my beak, I say, The pewter is deep, and I am dry!" "Perceiv'st thou verdure in my eye? XX--oh lor!" "Oh stop," the maiden cried, "and lend Thy beery burden here, my friend--" Th' unbidden tear regretful rose, But still his thumb-tip sought his nose; XX--oh lor! "Beware the gutter at thy feet! Beware the Dragons of the street! Beware lest thirsty Bob you meet!" This was the ultimate remark; A voice replied far thro' the dark, "XX--oh lor!" That night, by watchmen on their round, The person in a ditch was found; Still grasping in his manual vice, That pot--once fill'd with something nice-- XX--oh lor!!! From Mr. H. Cholmondeley-Pennell's _Puck on Pegasus_ (Chatto and Windus.) * * * * * THE THEATRE. "_Nam quae pervincere voces Evaluere sonum referunt quem nostra Theatra?_" I. The theatre was filling fast, As through the open door there passed A stranger with a scarlet tie, That instantly provoked the cry Of "Turn him out!" II. His nose was red, his lips beneath, In frequent smiles disclosed his teeth, And upward when he turned his eye, In ceaseless hubbub came the cry, "Ugh! Turn him out!" III. "Stay, stay," a master said, "and rest, The 'Vice' cares little how you're dressed," But loud from undergraduate lung The cry continually rung, "Ugh! Turn him out!" IV. The public orator began To spout his Latin like a man; His lips moved fast, but not a word Was audible; we only heard, "Ugh! Turn him out!" V. The Gaisford and the Newdigate And Stanhope shared no better fate; No single voice could drown the cry That roared out from the gallery, "Ugh! Turn him out!" VI. The 'Vice' rose up from off his chair, And raised his finger in the air, And gently strove the noise to quell, But louder came the ceaseless yell, "Ugh! Turn him out." VII. I left the place with aching brain, And deafened ear that throbbed again, And as I sauntered down the High, Upon the breeze I heard the cry, "Ugh! Turn him out!"