G.W.N.

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SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.

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THE LIBERTINE’S CONFESSION.

In Imitation of the Writers of the Sixteenth Century.

  I’m sad and sore afraid,
     That fickle, and forsworn,
  I’ve sported life away,
     And now am left forlorn.

  Poor fool!  I dreamt the years
     Of youth would never fly,
  And pleasure’s brimming bowl
     Methought could ne’er run dry.

  That woman’s bounteous love
     Should e’er wax cold for me! 
  It seem’d that she must first
     A woman cease to be.

  Her fondest smiles I thought
     My rights by charter were;
  Her sighs, her tears, forsooth,—­
     Whilst I—­was free as air.

  I’ve knelt at many a shrine,
     Of wit and beauty too;
  I’ve lisp’d light vows to all,
     And sworn that all were true.

  My pastime was to gain
     Their young and grateful love,
  Then break the heart I won,
     And straight to others rove.

  Ah! wild wit, now at last
     Thy vagrancies are o’er;
  The ear and gazing eye
     That you enthrall’d before.

  No longer hear or see;
     Whilst those you now would woo,
  The time-worn truant slight,
     Nor dream of love with you.

  New Monthly Magazine.

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Dublin is a great city.  Dublin, as the late Lord L——­th used to say, is “one of the tay-drinkenest, say-bathinest, car-drivinest places in the world; it flogs for divarsion.”

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THE TOYMAN IS ABROAD.

(Concluded from page 46.)

There is a point at which the inconvenience of superfluities so far exceeds their utility, that luxury becomes converted into a perfect bore.  What, for instance, but an annoyance, would be the most splendid feast, to a man whose stomach is already overladen with food?  Human ingenuity may effect much; and the Romans, by means of emetics, met this emergency with considerable skill; but on a more enlarged experience of general history, it must be conceded, that it is quite impossible to add one more superfluous meal to those already established by general usage.  So also in matters of dress, ladies’ hats must not be larger than the actual doorways of the country will admit—­not at least until time is allowed for a corresponding increase in our architectural proportions.  With respect to personal ornaments also, ear-rings must not be so weighty as to tear the lobes of the ears; nor should a bracelet prevent, by its size, the motions of the arm.  “Barbaric pomp and gold” is a fine thing; but a medallion, as heavy and as cumbrous as a shield, appended to a lady’s bosom,