Yet strove I as he never strove, Efforts without decay; Oh! my heart, my heart is breaking, For the place of premier Grey. His table now is loaded, With notes in black and white, And his salary so liberal, He clutches with delight. The cash, alas! is not for me, The money’s turned away; Oh! my heart, my heart is breaking For the place of premier Grey. For that I’d take the liberal side, For that the bill call good, For that I’d dare the rabble strife, Though it cost a sea of blood. By night I’d take no slumbers, Whate’er e’en Praed might say, But scorn’d is the heart that’s breaking, For the place of premier Grey. I’ve sunk beneath Reform’s bright sun, I’ve shook ’neath Brougham’s blast; But my pilgrimage is nearly done, The heavy conflict’s pass’d. And when the great Act digs my grave, Party will haply say, “Oh! his heart, his heart was broken, For the place of premier Grey.” _Figaro in London._ August 11, 1832. ―――― SALLY MAY. She’s naught my fancy painted her, She’s not at all divine; I wish she was another’s But fate has made her mine: I’m used as man was never used; I never have my way―― My peace, my peace is broken, By cruel Sally May! Her sandy hair is scattered o’er A face of dingy white, Her goggle eye now sleepy looks, Now flashes fierce with spite! Her sandy hair I hate to see―― Her eyes are set awry, My rest, my rest is broken, By cruel Sally May. From her I’ve climb’d the mountain’s side, From her have braved the flood! With her I’ve felt the battle’s strife, For she has shed my blood―― By night she breaks my slumbers, And watches me by day, My rest, my rest is broken, By ugly Sally May. I’ve sung beneath that noisy tongue, And trembled as she passed, But, now my business is done, She’s broke my head at last, And when the doctor binds my wound, In pity he will say, His head, his heart was broken By wicked Sally May! From _Wiseheart’s Merry Songster_. Dublin. ―――― CAPTAIN GRAY. He’s all his agent painted him, A captain in the line; But his pay he spent on others, And none has e’er been mine. I work’d as ne’er a tailor work’d For him without delay; And I became a bankrupt, Through trusting Captain Gray.