-The little charmer, to my view
Was sculpture brought to life anew;
Her eyes had a poetic glow,

Her pouting mouth was Cupid's bow:
And through her frock I could descry
Her neck and shoulders' symmetry.
"Twas obvious from her walk and gait
Her limbs were beautifully straight;
I stopped the enchantress, and was told,
Though tall, she was but four years old.
Her guide so grave an aspect wore
I could not ask a question more;
But followed her. The little one
Threw backward ever and anon
Her lovely neck, as if to say,

"I know you love me, Mister Grey;'
For by its instinct childhood's eye
Is shrewd in physiognomy;

They well distinguish fawning art
From sterling fondness of the heart.

And so she flirted, like a true,
Good woman, till we bade adieu.
Twas then I with regret grew wild,

Oh, beauteous, interesting child!

Why asked I not thy home and name?

My courage failed me -more's the shame.

But where abides this jewel rare?

Oh, ye that own her, tell me where!
For sad it makes my heart and sore
To think I ne'er may meet her more.

TO THE UNITED STATES OF NORTH AMERICA.

UNITED STATES, your banner wears
Two emblems- one of fame;

Alas, the other that it bears
Reminds us of your shame.

Your standard's constellation types
White freedom by its stars;
But what's the meaning of the stripes?
They mean your negroes' scars.

THE LAUNCH OF A FIRST-RATE.

WRITTEN ON WITNESSING THE SPECTACLE.

ENGLAND hails thee with emotion,
Mightiest child of naval art,

Heaven resounds thy welcome! Ocean
Takes thee smiling to his heart.

Giant oaks of bold expansion

O'er seven hundred acres fell,

All to build thy noble mansion,

Where our hearts of oak shall dwell.

'Midst those trees the wild deer bounded, Ages long ere we were born,

And our great-grandfathers sounded
Many a jovial hunting-horn.

Oaks that living did inherit

Grandeur from our earth and sky, Still robust, the native spirit.

In your timbers shall not die.

Ship to shine in martial story,

Thou shalt cleave the ocean's path,
Freighted with Britannia's glory
And the thunders of her wrath.

Foes shall crowd their sails and fly thee,
Threatening havoc to their deck,
When afar they first descry thee,
Like the coming whirlwind's speck.

Fallant bark! thy pomp and beauty
Storm or battle ne'er shall blast,
Whilst our tars in pride and duty
Nail thy colors to the mast.

EPISTLE FROM ALGIERS.

TO HORACE SMITH.

DEAR HORACE! be melted to tears,

For I'm melting with heat as I rhyme; Though the name of this place is All-jeers, 'Tis no joke to fall in with its clime.

With a shaver from France who came o'er,

To an African inn I ascend;

I am cast on a barbarous shore,

Where a barber alone is my friend.

Do you ask me the sights and the news
Of this wonderful city to sing?

Alas! my hotel has its mews,

But no muse of the Helicon's spring.

My windows afford me the sight
Of a people all diverse in hue;
They are black, yellow, olive, and white,
Whilst I in my sorrow look blue.

Here are groups for the painter to take,
Whose figures jocosely combine,
The Arab disguised in his haik,†

And the Frenchman disguised in his wine.

In his breeches of petticoat size

You may say as the Mussulman goes,

That his garb is a fair compromise

"Twixt a kilt and a pair of small clothes.

་

The Mooresses, shrouded in white,

Save two holes for their eyes to give room,

Seem like corpses in sport or in spite

That have slyly whipped out of their tomb.

On board the vessel from Marseilles to Algiers I met with a fellow. passenger, whom I supposed to be a physician, from his dress and man. ners, and the attentions which he paid me to alleviate the sufferings of my sea-sickness. He turned out to be a perruquier and barber in Algeria- but his vocation did not lower him in my estimation-for he continued his attentions till he passed my baggage through the customs, and helped me, when half dead with exhaustation, to the best hotel. ↑ A mantle worn by the natives.

The old Jewish dames make me sick :
If I were the devil, I declare

Such hags should not mount a broom-stick
In my service to ride through the air

But hipped and undined as I am,

My hippogriff's course I must rein, For the pain of my thirst is no sham,

Though I'm bawling aloud for champagne.

Dinner's brought; but the wines have no pith; They are flat as the statutes at law;

And for all that they bring me, dear Smith!
Would a glass of brown stout they could draw!

O'er each French trashy dish as I bend,
My heart feels a patriot's grief!

And the round tears, O England! descend
When I think on a round of thy beef.

Yes, my soul sentimentally craves

British beer! Hail, Britannia, hail!
To thy flag on the foam of the waves,
And the foam on thy flagons of ale.

Yet I own, in this hour of my drought,
A dessert has most welcomely come;
Here are peaches that melt in the mouth,
And grapes blue and big as a plum.

There are melons, too, luscious and great,
But the slices I eat shall be few,
For from melons incautiously eat
Melancholic effects may ensue.

Horrid pun! you'll exclaim; but be calm,
Though my letter bears date, as you view,
From the land of the date-bearing palm

I will palm no more puns upon you.