I watch the turns of stocks:
And this is life! no verdure blooms
Upon the withered bough.
I save a fortune in perfumes,--
I'm not a lover now!

I may be yet what others are,
A boudoir's babbling fool;
The flattered star of bench or har,
A party's chief or tool:
Come shower or sunshine, hope or fear,
The palace or the plough--
My heart and lute are broken here,--
I'm not a lover now!
Lady, the mist is on my sight,
The chill is on my brow;
My day is night, my bloom is blight,--
I'm not a lover now!


_The First Ball_, by L.E.L. is rife and gay; which, with Mr. Croker's
_Three Advices_, are all we can spare room to point out to our readers.

* * * * *




The Amulet.