The Donkey-Boys of England, how sternly they reprove The brute that won’t “come over,” with an impressive shove; And oh! the eel-like animals, how gracefully they swerve From side to side, but won’t advance to spoil true beauty’s curve, The Donkey-Boys of England, how manfully they fight, When a probable donkestrian comes suddenly in sight; From nurse’s arms the babies are clutch’d with fury wild, And on a donkey carried off the mother sees her child. The Donkey-Boys of England, how sternly they defy The pleadings of a parent’s shriek, the infant’s piercing cry; As a four-year-old Mazeppa is hurried from the spot, Exposed to all the tortures of a donkey’s fitful trot. The Donkey-Boys of England, how lustily they scream, When they strive to keep together their donkeys in a team; And the riders who are anxious to be class’d among genteels, Have a crowd of ragged Donkey-Boys “hallooing” at their heels. The Donkey-Boys of England, how well they comprehend The animal to whom they act as master, guide and friend; The understanding that exists between them who’ll dispute―― Or that the larger share of it falls sometimes to the brute? _Punch_, September 29, 1849. ―――― THE GARDEN GROUNDS OF ENGLAND. The Garden Grounds of England! how hopeful they appear When all things else are desolate at winter time of year; For though the summer foliage no longer lends its screen, The earth still wears her uniform of vegetable green. The Cabbage Rows of England! how gaily they deploy, With ranks of stout auxiliaries from Brussels and Savoy; And regiments of native greens, which eloquently speak Of dishes rich and savoury――of bubble and of squeak! The Cel’ry Heads of England! how airily they rise, High up above the trenches, where the root they spring from lies; Types of the true nobility――bursting by force of worth Out of the low position of circumstances and birth! The Beetroot Beds of England! how sturdily they shoot, The leaves the hardy produce of a stout and stalwart root; A rough and tough exterior serves but to cover o’er The rich internal saccharine――the sugar at the core! The Endive Plants of England! how selfish is their plan, Spreading at first their arms about to catch at all they can; Then shutting up within themselves――like hypocrites demure, With hearts as cold and white as snow, but wonderfully pure! The Garden Grounds of England! how merrily they thrive; They show there’s always something to keep the world alive; For though deprived of Autumn’s fruits, and spring and summer flowers, There’s always green about the earth to brighten winter hours! _Punch_, December 15, 1849. ―――― THE MERCHANT PRINCE.