O pledge me not in sparkling wine, In cups with roses bound; O hail me at no festive shrine, In mirth and music's sound. Or if you pledge me, let it be When none are by to hear, And in the wine you drink to me, For me let fall a tear. Forbear to breathe in pleasure's hall, A name you should forget; Lest echo's faintest whisper fall On her who loves thee yet. Or if you name me, let it be When none are by to hear; And as my name is sigh'd by thee, For me let fall a tear. O think not when the harp shall sound The notes we lov'd again, And gentle voices breathe around, I mingle in the strain. Oh! only think you hear me when The night breeze whispers near; In hours of thought, and quiet, then For me let fall a tear. Seek me not in the mazy dance, Nor let your fancy trace Resemblance in a timid glance; Or distant form and face. But if you seek me, be it when No other forms are near; And while in thought we meet again, For me let fall a tear. L.M.N. * * * * * MANNERS & CUSTOMS OF ALL NATIONS. * * * * * BULL-BAITING IN SUFFOLK. (_For the Mirror._) Lavenham Market-place was once considered as one of the most celebrated "theatres for cruel scenes" in the county of Suffolk, "Where bulls and dogs in useless contest fought, And sons of reason satisfaction sought From sights would sicken Feeling's gentle heart, Where want of courage barb'd Oppression's dart."[5] [5] Ribbans's "Effusions." On every anniversary of the Popish powder-plot, it was customary here to bait bulls; and it was then pretty generally understood that no butcher could legally slaughter a bull without first baiting him; or in default of doing so, he must burn candles in his shop so long as a bit of the bull-beef remained there for sale. Whilst a bull, with false horns, has been defending himself at the stake, or ring, in this market-place, dogs have been seen in the streets quarrelling for a part of the tongue of the living bull! and daughters of reason have joined their treble screams to the yell of triumph when the bull either tossed or worried a dog, or a dog had pinned the bull, by fastening on his nose so desperately firm as even to suffer his limbs to be broken--nay, cut off--before he would let go his hold. A man (of course of the bull-dog breed), not many years since, engaged to attack a bull with his teeth, and so far succeeded as to deprive the animal of power to hurt him.