Story of a Bird in a Cage, and the

Song it Warbled.

I

THERE lived not long ago in Onslow Square

A maiden as forlorn as she was fair;
All day disconsolate and dull she sate,
Bewailing ever her unwedded state.

2

Whene'er the bell a visitor announced,

Her fluttering heart within her bosom bounced, Hoping that in each stranger she'd discover That rare phenomenon—a real lover!

3

Her father used to scold, and say, "My child!
I never knew a girl like you so wild;
I really must some dame demure provide,
Who over you shall prudently preside."

Whereat, alarmed, she'd cry in coaxing strain,
"O dear Papa! unsay those words again!
Let me but reign quiescent in this house,
I promise to be quiet as a mouse!"

Song.

Yes, dear Papa! I'll be so prim,
So dutiful and prudent,
Don't get me a duenna grim;

I'll toil like any student.

Sometimes I'll sing, and sometimes play

Upon the grand piano;

And I'll appoint a special day

To talk Italiano.

Some happy hours, too, I'll beguile

With water-colour brushes;

No gossiper shall gain my smile,
No booby raise my blushes.

So, dear Papa! do let me but

This once my own point carry,
My eyes, henceforth, I'll try to shut
On all men-till I marry.

But then, Papa! for my poor sake

Do quickly try to find

Some handsome fellow, who will make

A husband to my mind.

I don't want one too thin and long,
Nor one too fat and short;
But one who sings a jolly song,
And can enjoy some sport.

I'd like him, too, to have some hair
Upon his lip and chin;

But whether he be dark or fair
Don't signify a pin!

You recollect that Mr D.

Who went last year to Rome; Well, that's the sort of man for me; I wish he would but come !

Then, too, there's Mr W.,

Oh! if he had but popped!
I need not then to trouble you;

But off to Ind he's hopped.

I need not speak of Colonel R.,
Though he's so kind a friend;
For he's, you know, too old by far,
So there's of him an end!

Few other beaux have I to name
Who round my path have fluttered;

None ever yet has raised a flame,
Or word of courtship muttered.

Thus, dear Papa! you see I'm free,
And of my freedom sick!

So bring a husband home to me,
And oh, Papa!-be QUICK!

To

General Sir Archdale Wilson, G.C.B., the Conqueror of Delhi.

(In Acknowledgment of a fine Salmon caught in the Dee.)

I

HAIL! great Sir Archdale; thy renown

From Indus to the pole has flown;

From Delhi to the Dee

The right man thou, beyond a doubt,
To catch a Tartar or a trout,

By river, lake, or sea!

2

In happy hour thou didst annul
The empire of the Great Mogul;

The whole world knows the story;
How, undismayed by scorching sun
Or countless hosts, was nobly won

Thy conqueror's wreath of glory!