And with a quiet fireside, lady,
They could not be content
The space is far too wide, lady,
O'er which their glance is sent.
And cloak them how you will, lady,
At times they must be seen—
They cannot aye be still, lady,
Beneath their silken screen;
But let them still rove on, lady,
To make some weak hearts pine,
The power they had is gone, lady,
To rule this heart of mine.
Give me the eyes at home, lady,
Whose glances show no guile;
Though free as ocean's foam, lady,
On all they will not smile;
But for the darling one, lady,
Their look will know no change,
And e'en when life's sands run, lady,
Their spirit will not range.
Then turn thine eyes away, lady—
On others let them roam;
My young heart cannot stray, lady,
From our sweet eyes at home.
In cups brimful of wine, lady,
That sparkle high with foam,
I drink farewell to thine, lady,
But love to those at home.
EPIGRAM.
ON MR. BUTT'S INTENDED MOTION IN THE CORPORATION.
What discord dire has Isaac spread!
His temper somewhat tart I call;
With truth prophetic Murray said,
"But's a disjunctive particle."
