Poor David in vain Implored to remain, He "dared not," he said, "cross the mountain again." Why the fair was obdurate None knows,--to be sure it Was said she was setting her cap at the Curate;-- Be that as it may, it is certain the sole hole Pryce found to creep into that night was the Coal-hole! In that shady retreat With nothing to eat And with very bruised limbs, and with very sore feet, All night close he kept; I can't say he slept; But he sigh'd, and he sobb'd, and he groan'd, and he wept; Lamenting his sins, And his two broken shins, Bewailing his fate with contortions and grins, And her he once thought a complete Rara Avis, Consigning to Satan,--viz., cruel Miss Davis' Mr. David has since had a "serious call," He never drinks ale, wine, or spirits, at all, And they say he is going to Exeter Hall To make a grand speech, And to preach, and to teach People that "they can't brew their malt liquor too small!" That an ancient Welsh Poet, one PYNDAR AP TUDOR, Was right in proclaiming "ARISTON MEN UDOR!" Which means "The pure Element Is for Man's belly meant!" And that GIN'S but a SNARE of Old Nick the deluder! And "still on each evening when pleasure fills up," At the old Goat-in-Boots, with Metheglin, each cup Mr. Pryce, if he's there, Will get into "The Chair," And make all his QUONDAM associates stare By calling aloud to the Landlady's daughter, "Patty, bring a cigar, and a glass of Spring Water!" The dial he constantly watches; and when The long hand's at the "XII.," and the short at the "X.," He gets on his legs, Drains his glass to the dregs, Takes his hat and great-coat off their several pegs, With his President's hammer bestows his last knock, And says solemnly--"Gentlemen! LOOK AT THE CLOCK!!!" [Illustration: LAMB.] THE BAGMAN'S DOG. R. HARRIS BARHAM. Stant littore Puppies!--VIRGIL. It was a litter, a litter of five, Four are drown'd, and one left alive, He was thought worthy alone to survive; And the Bagman resolved upon bringing him up, To eat of his bread, and to drink of his cup, He was such a dear little cock-tail'd pup! The Bagman taught him many a trick; He would carry, and fetch, and run after a stick, He could well understand The word of command, And appear to doze With a crust on his nose Till the Bagman permissively waved his hand: Then to throw up and catch it he never would fail, As he sat up on end, on his little cock-tail. Never was puppy so bien instruit, Or possess'd of such natural talent as he; And as he grew older, Every beholder Agreed he grew handsomer, sleeker, and bolder.