III.

As I ride, as I ride,

When an inner voice has cried,

The sands slide, nor abide

(As I ride, as I ride)

O'er each visioned homicide

Cocked his flap-hat with the tosspot-
feather,

Twisted his thumb in his red moustache,
Jingled his huge brass spurs together,
Tightened his waist with its Buda sash,
And then, with an impudence nought could
abash,

That came vaunting (has he lied?) Shrugged his hump-shoulder, to the

To reside

where he died,

As I ride, as I ride.

IV.

As I ride, as I ride,

Ne'er has spur my swift horse plied,
Yet his hide, streaked and pied,
As I ride, as I ride,

Shows where sweat has sprung and
dried,

- Zebra-footed, ostrich-thighed
How has vied stride with stride
As I ride, as I ride!

V.

As I ride, as I ride,

Could I loose what Fate has tied,
Ere I pried, she should hied
(As I ride, as I ride)

All that's meant me- satisfied
When the Prophet and the Bride
Stop veins I'd have subside
As I ride, as I ride!

NATIONALITY IN DRINKS.

I.

My heart sank with our Claret-flask,
Just now, beneath the heavy sedges
That serve this pond's black face for mask
And still at yonder broken edges
O' the hole, where up the bubbles glisten,
30 After my heart I look and listen.

II.

Our laughing little flask, compelled

Thro' depth to depth more bleak and shady;

As when, both arms beside her held,

Feet straightened out, some gay French
lady

Is caught up from life's light and motion,
And dropped into death's silent ocean!

Up jumped Tokay on our table,
Like a pygmy castle-warder,
Dwarfish to see, but stout and able,
40 Arms and accoutrements all in order;
And fierce he looked North, then, wheeling
South,

Blew with his bugle a challenge to Drouth,

beholder,

For twenty such knaves he should laugh but the bolder:

And so, with his sword-hilt gallantly 56 jutting,

And dexter-hand on his håunch abutting, Went the little man, Sir Ausbruch, strutting!

Here's to Nelson's memory!

'Tis the second time that I, at sea,
Right off Cape Trafalgar here,
Have drunk it deep in British Beer.
Nelson for ever any time

Am I his to command in prose or rhyme!
Give me of Nelson only a touch,
And I save it, be it little or much:
Here's one our Captain gives, and so
Down at the word, by George, shall it
go!

He says that at Greenwich they point the
beholder

To Nelson's coat, "still with tar on the shoulder:

"For he used to lean with one shoulder digging,

Jigging, as it were, and zig-zag-zigging "Up against the mizen-rigging!"