1

Thus bumpered the gods from the great to the

least,

And the nectar flew round till 'twas Momus's

turn;

"I'll give you a toast, ye celestial host,"

Cried Jove then, "what is it? I prithee now tell us,"

Momus said, with a laugh, while the nectar he quaffed,

"Success to each lodge of worthy Odd Fellows." "What new sect are those, call'd Odd Fellows," cried Jove;

"Whom you have just honour'd by drinking a toast?

"Great sire, they are men that this court must approve,

For honour's their motto, and virtue their boast; They are true and sincere, in their friendship so dear,

That no discord can reach them, their history

tells us ;

May they ever unite, free from envy and spite, And joy crown the Lodge of all worthy Odd Fellows.

Says Jove," I'm well pleased to find mortals so wise,

Who honour thus taught all those arts to despise, Which, with shame, on the earth I too often have seen!

Fly, Fame, through the sky, sound their praises on high,

And, Truth, ever sanction the history they tell

128;

"When time shall remove them to regions above, We'll crown them with glory, all true worthy Odd Fellows,"

Our most Noble Grand, let us toast-in the chair, The Vice Grand, and officers each, in their station;

May honour and merit be ever their care,

And their names be revered by each Lodge in the nation,

While each loyal brother, still true to each other, Laugh, drink, sing, and smoke, till we're all of us mellow,

Then homeward depart, this wish in each heart, Joy and health be the lot of each worthy Odd Fellow.

MUSIC'S POWER ON LOVE.

On a bank of moss roses young Cupid lay sleeping, A wreath round his forehead the graces had wove, In crystalline lustre the dew drops were weeping, They drooped in their bloom, a meet emblem of love.

Bright Sol shed his beams now more powerfully glowing,

The urchin exposed, felt his dimpled cheek flushed,

His ringlets of gold on his fair neck were flowing,
The roses that wrapped him luxuriantly blushed.
A fairy had hung her wild harp on a willow,
The breathing wind swept it, he awoke at the
sound;

In ecstacy gazing quick sprung from his pillow, And cast in delight, his sly glances around, No form he could see, straight to Venus's bower He flew, and express'd what he'd heard in the grove;

She smiling said, “Trembler, I've now proved the power,

The magical impulse of music on love."

TALLY-HO! THE HOUNDS, SIR.
Here's Doctor Mack no more enjoys
The burden of my song, sir;

I will tell you the life the priest enjoys
His constitution through, sir.

He laughs and winks at them that drink,
To them that are not bound, sir,
He takes his glass, and lets it pass,
And tally-ho! the hounds, sir.
It is every day he can afford,

To dine on boil'd and roast, sir;
And then as great as any lord,

He'll drink his favourite toast, sir,
It's his delight to drink all night,
His care in punch to drown, sir:
And in the morn to join the horn,
And tally-ho the hounds, sir.
It happened on St. Stephen's day,
As he was going to mass, sir:
He heard the music of the horn,
And saw the beagles pass, sir;
His book he shut, his flock forsook,
And threw aside his gown, sir;

Mounted his horse to hunt the fox,
And tally-ho! the hounds, sir.
It's every day we go to mass,
The priest puts on his boots, sir;
And if the fox that way should pass,
He'll follow in pursuit, sir;

So swift he leaps o'er hedge and ditch,
To him there is no bounds, sir;
And if he can he'll lead the van,
And tally ho! the hounds, sir.
It was he had a pair to wed,

As the fox passed in view, sir;
The surplice he drew o'er his head,
And bid the pair adieu, sir.

They both did pray that he might stay,
For they were not fast bound, sir;
He swore that night to bed they might,
And tally-ho! the hounds, sir.

Nor think this jovial priest so wrong,
He had an honest heart, sir;
Both night and morn the sprightly horn,
It would his senses charm, sir.

He never robbed or poor distrest,
His praise I will renown, sir;
He thought it no crime, at any time,
To tally-ho! the hounds, sir.

SHADRACK, THE ORANGE MAN.

ome listen awhile to the joke that is new, nd lately occurred 'twixt a Frenchman and Jew, [r. Shadrack went out with the basket one day, ull of oranges, fine, at the 'Change to display;

Where he bustl'd and bawl'd China oranges, fine, Come, eighteen a shilling, and sixpence for nine.

Spoken.] Pless my heart, pless my heart and patience, vere ish all my customers-vere is all de little plackguards vot dey don't come from school and spend dere monish? vell, vell, I suppose I must tip 'em another rat mit de paper, and vile I'm doing dat I may quite as vell sing,

Tol de rol lol, Mr. Shadrach de orangeman,
Tel de rol lol, Mr. Shadrach de Jew.

Bye and bye Jean de Paris he chanc'd to espy, Ven he run and he bawl'd-here, Monsieur come and buy

O, ho, vat is dat, is de orange quite sweet? Yes, my friend, quite de best you can find 'pon the street.

But me have not the change, says Monsieur to the Jew,

And quickly produced a Napoleon to view.

Spoken.] About a piece of coold, vell I declare I never saw such a ting since I've been in the street. Vell, plow my vig, dere's luck; vell I tell you vat I shall do mit you; I'll give you coot silber and change, and six orangés into de pargain; dem my heart, dere's a lucky deble vat I am; it sets my heart a thumping and dancing in my posom, and gaily makes me sing,

Tol de rol, &c.