HANNAH VERRIOR.

THA zâ I'm mazed,-my Husband's dead,
My chile, (hush! hush! Lord love er face!)
Tha pit-hawl had at Milemas, when

Thâ put me in theäze pooät-hawl place.

Thâ zâ I'm mazed.-I veel-I thenk

I tâk—I ate, an ôten drenk.—
Thâ thenk, a-mâ-be, zumtimes, veel-
An gee me strâ vor bed an peel!

Thâ zâ I'm maz'd.-Hush! Babby, dear!
Thâ shan't come to er !-niver fear!
Thâ zâ thy Father's dead!-Naw, naw!
A'll niver die while I'm belaw.

Thâ zâ I'm mazed.-Why dwont ye speak? Fie James!-or else my hort ool break! James is not dead! nor Babby!—naw ! Thâ'll niver die while I'm belaw!

REMEMBRANCE.

AN shall I drap tha Reed-an shall I,
Athout one nawte about my SALLY?
Althaw we Pawets âll be zingers,
We like, wi' enk, ta dye our vingers;
Bit mooäst we like in vess ta pruv
That we remimber thauze we love.
Sim-like-it than, that I should iver
Vorgit my SALLY.-Niver, niver !
Vor, while I've wander'd in tha West-
At mornin tide-at evenin rest-
On Quantock's hills-in Mendip's vales-
On Parret's banks-in zight o' Wales--
In thic awld mansion whaur tha bâll
Once vrighten'd Lady Drake an âll;-
When wi' tha Ladies o' thic dell

Whaur witches spird ther 'ticin spell—*

* COMBE SYDENHAM, the residence of my Friend, GEORGE NOTLEY, Esq. The history of the Magic Ball,

Amangst tha rocks on Watchet shaur

When did tha wine an wâters raur

as it has been called, is now pretty generally known, and therefore need not be here repeated. I take the present opportunity of laying before the reader a few impromptu lines, which I presented to Miss NOTLEY and her friend, on the morning of my departure from that romantic spot-COMBE SYDENHAM, January the 9th, 1825.

LADIES! Time, that fell destroyer,
Bids me say, at once, farewell-
Yet, believe me, 'tis most painful—
More than pen or tongue can tell.

Will you, when I'm gone and distant,
Think of me who sojourn'd here ?
Yes I know you will, ye Fair Ones!
Nay-I do not ask a tear.

Pleas'd by you to be remember'd;
Pleas'd if, when I'm far way,

You shall smile and think of one who
Pass'd here one delightful day.

I can ne'er, no, ne'er forget you—
Moments pass'd, ye Fair! with you,
Leave a wavy flood of brightness
On the soul-Adieu! adieu !

In Banwell's cave-on Loxton hill-
At Clifton gâ-at Rickford rill-
In Compton ood-in Hartree coom-
At Crispin's cot wi' little room;—
At Upton-Lansdown's lofty brow-
At Bath, whaur pleasure flânts enow;
At Trowbridge, whaur by Friendship's heed,
I blaw'd again my silent Reed,
An there enjay'd, wi' quiet, rest,
Jitch recollections o' tha West;
Whauriver stapp'd my voot along

I thawt o' HER.-Here ends my zong.

MARY PUDDY.

THA tales o' grate an nawble vawk
Let wither pawets study;

I love tha storries o' tha poor;
I'll zeng o' MARY PUDDY.

A right good-natur'd hormless theng, Ta work-ta please-er study;

Bit still one failin she'd a got,

Ta hide which cood'n, Mary Puddy.

Poor Mary had a little chile*

Ta zuckle, warm en âll er study. Tha porish zed that 'twar a shame Ta hâ a love-chile-Mary Puddy.

* Child.