I sing Ulysses, and those chiefs
Who, out of near a million,
So luckily their bacon sav'd
Before the walls of Ilion.

Yankee doodle doodle doo,
Black negro he get fumbo,
And when you come to our town
We'll make you drunk with bumbo.

II.

Who having taken, sack'd, and burnt,
That very first of cities,
Return'd in triumph, while the bards
All struck up amorous dittles.

Mr. Noel Coward
Was disillusioned and soured
By the lukewarm reception of his comedy
Introducing a real dromedary.

My foot's in the stirrup, my hand's on the rein,
My proud steed is tossing his longflowing mane;
Yet, stay for a moment! I'll wave ere we part
Another farewell to the girl of my heart.

How blest was the evening I knelt by her side,
And watched the Miami's deep willow-fringed tide,
And dreamed a fair dream that love would flow ever,
As smooth and as bright as the beautiful river.

“Oh, stay!” said the rose to the wind, as it sped;
Alas! in a moment the sighing wind fled.
“Oh, stay!” said the lily, “nor leave me alone,”

Ecclesia D EI

Who is she that stands triumphant
Rock in strength upon the Rock,
Like some city crown'd with turrets
Braving storm and earthquake shock?
Who is she her arms extending,
Blessing thus a world restored;
All the anthems of creation
Lifting to creation's Lord?

Hers the kingdom, hers the sceptre!

I.

Fait, honey, in Ireland, I'd find out a flaw
In each capias, each battery, and action;
For dere — oh my soul — satisfaction is law,
And, what's better, fait law's satisfaction.

When to cut your friend's trote dat affronts you's the word,
From that argument none will be shrinking;
For we clear knotty points by the point of the sword,
And make flaws large enough with our pinking.

And great are the pleasures it yield,
While our seconds are hard at our back,
And boldly we both take the field,

I gazed — it was the paschal night —
In vision on the starry sphere:
Like suns the stars made broad their light:
Then knew I earth to heaven drew near.

The thrones of darkness down were hurled;
The veil was rent; the bond was riven:
Then knew I that man's little world
Had reached its home — the heart of heaven.

Made strong by God, mine eyes with awe
Still turned from star-changed sun to sun
That ringed the earth in ranks, and saw
A spirit o'er each, that stood thereon.

And lo! by every spirit stood

I.

Take, O Celia! muse divine!
Take again the tragic tale:
Wit , so light, if weigh'd with thine ,
Mounts, like feathers , from thy scale.

II.

Yet, 'twere wise O soul of verse!
Soft, to smile , upon his flight:
Blazing tapers , scarce, wou'd pierce ,
Were there no such thing, as night .

III.

Di'monds wou'd be less admir'd,
Were not brittle christal known;
And by Poets poorly fir'd ,

The one thing Cleopatra
Never could abide was a flatterer.
When Antony compared her to Thais
She knocked him right off the dais.

I.

I'll tell you a story — a story that's true,
A story that's tragic and comical too,
'Tis of a mischance that was ready to fall
On this realm, through the skylight of Westminster-hall.

Sing bags and briefs, bands, gowns, and other like rigs,
Queues, bags, ties, and full-bottom wigs, wigs, wigs.

II.

The court was just opened, and each learned brother
Preparing which readiest could puzzle the other,
When, on top of the house, a poor ignorant wench
Puzzled judge, jury, counsel, and all the whole bench.

Almond-eyed Jacqueline beckoned to me,
As our troop rode home from mounting guard,
And I saw Gil Perez's brow grow dark,
While his face seemed longer by half a yard.
What care I for the Spaniard's ire,
His haughty lip and glance of fire;
What so fit for these Southern lords
As the tempered edges of freemen's swords?

Say, shall an Alva's merciless bands
Their hands in our noblest blood imbrue,
And then with accursed foreign wiles,
Our gentle Northern girls pursue?
Hail to him who for freedom strikes!