THE BALLAD OF BOREÄNA.
My brain is wearied with thy prate,
Boreäna,
I sit and curse my hapless fate,
Boreäna,
What time the rain pours down the gutter,
Still your platitudes you utter
Boreäna,
I unholy wishes mutter,
Boreäna.
Ere the night-light's flame was fading,
Boreäna,
While the cats were serenading,
Boreäna,
Sheep were bleating, oxen lowing,
We heard the beasts to Smithfield going,
Boreäna,
You said the butcher's bill was owing,
Boreäna.
At Cremorne, we two alone,
Boreäna,
Ere my wisdom teeth were grown,
Boreäna,
While the dancers gaily hopped,
And the brass-band never stopped,
Boreäna,
I to thee the question popped,
Boreäna.
She stood behind the area gate,
Boreäna,
She did it just to aggravate,
Boreäna,
She saw me wink, she heard me swear,
She recognised the scoundrel there,
Boreäna,
She knows a bailiff I can't bear,
Boreäna.
The cursed writ he pushed it through,
Boreäna,
The area rails, and gave it you,
Boreäna,
The infernal summons me unnerved,
He from his duty never swerved,
Boreäna,
On thee, my bride, the writ he served,
Boreäna.
Oh! narrow-minded county court,
Boreäna,
'Tis death to me, to them 'tis sport,
Boreäna,
Oh! stab in my most tender place,
My pocket, oh! the deep disgrace,
Boreäna,
I fell down flat upon my face,
Boreäna.
They fined me at the next court day,
Boreäna,
Locked up, how can I get away,
Boreäna?
I don't perceive of hope a ray,
'Tis a true bill, but oh! I say,
Boreäna,
How without tin am I to pay,
Boreäna?
* * * *
When turns the never-pausing mill,
Boreäna,
I tread, I do not dare stand still,
Boreäna:
At home, of beer thou drink'st thy fill,
I may not come to thee and swill,
Boreäna,
I hear the rolling of the mill,
Boreäna.
TENNYSON'S The Palace of Art, commences thus:—
I BUILT my soul a lordly pleasure-house,
Wherein at ease for aye to dwell,
I said, "O soul, make merry and carouse,
Dear soul, for all is well."
* * * *
And "while the world runs round and round," I said,
"Reign thou apart, a quiet king,
Still as while Saturn whirls, his steadfast shade
Sleeps on his luminous ring."
The following skit ridiculing the furniture and decorations of an artistically-arranged modern house, is taken from Punch of the 15th February, 1879.