From Rhine and Danube, Rhone and The fountain in the basin plays, Seine, As rivers from their sources gush, From coast to coast in friendly chain, With countless ships we bridge the straits, And angry ocean separates Europe no more. From Mississippi and from NileFrom Baltic, Ganges, Bosphorous, In England's ark assembled thus Are friend and guest. Look down the mighty sunlit aisle, The chanting organ echoes clear, Swell, organ, swell your trumpet blast, March, Queen and Royal pageant, march By splendid aisle and springing arch And see above the fabric vast, God's peaceful sunlight's beaming through, And see the sumptuous banquet set, May, 1851. And shines o'er all. THE BALLAD OF BOUILLABAISSE. A STREET there is in Paris famous, For which no rhyme our language yields, Rue Neuve des Petits Champs its name is The New Street of the Little Fields. And here's an inu, not rich and splendid, But still in comfortable case; The which in youth I oft attended, To eat a bowl of Bouillabaisse. This Bouillabaisse a noble dish is A sort of soup or broth, or brew, Or hotchpotch of all sorts of fishes, That Greenwich never could outdo; Green herbs, red peppers, mussels, saffron, Soles, onions, garlic, roach, and dace: All these you eat at TERRE's tavern, In that one dish of Bouillabaisse. Indeed, a rich and savory stew 'tis ; And true philosophers, methinks, Who love all sorts of natural beauties, Should love good victuals and good drinks. And Cordelier or Benedictine Might gladly, sure, his lot embrace, Nor find a fast-day too afflicting, Which served him upa Bouillabaisse. Little we fear Once on the boughs Here let us sport, Evenings we knew, Care, like a dun, Drain we the cup. Sorrows, begone! Life and its ills, Duns and their bills, Bid we to flee. Come with the dawn, Blue-devil sprite, Leave us to-night, Round the old tree. THE YANKEE VOLUNTEERS. "A surgeon of the United States' army says that on inquiring of the Captain of his company, he found that nine-tenths of the men had enlisted on account of some female difficulty." Morning Paper. YE Yankee Volunteers! Though oft 'tis told one. As in the Old one! What-in this company Who march 'neath Stripes and Stars, Deserters from the realm Beneath the Stripe and Star- And is it so with all And swords gold-hilted Yon lusty corporal, Yon color-man who gripes Come, each man of this line, "An old lantern brought to me? Ugly, dingy, battered, black !" (Here a lady I suppose Turning up a pretty nose) Pray, sir, take the old thing back. "Dear, friendly eyes, with constant I've no taste for bricabrac." kindness lit, However rude my verse, or poor my wit, Or sad or gay my mood, you welcome it. "Please to mark the letters twain " (I'm supposed to speak again) – Graven on the lantern pane. |