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180 LNITED STATES
The rude rushing waves, all around the shores ars
washing.
And the great billows heave, and the wild rocks
da.shing.
He may look to the moon of the great .Mount Diana,
With his eyes o'er the waves that are round St Helena.
No more in St. Clouds, he wiU be seen in such splendor.
Or go on with his crowds, of the great Alexander,
For the young king of Rome, and the prince of Ganali.
Says he will bring his fiither home from the Isle ot
St. Helena.
Poor little Love.
Poor little love looks aj meek as a dove,
^\'hen he sues for relief in our bosom ;
We harbor the boy as a herald of joy.
For where is the heart can refuse him ]
When once in our breast he deprives us of rest
While for constnncy, vain we implore him,
He laughs at our sighs, spreads his pinions and flies.
Yet in spite of all this we adore him;
Yes, yes, poor little love, &;c.
Arts are as old as tlie \> orld, we are told.
Yet we women somehow can't upbraid him;
Oh ! stil! docs he ve\ ev'ry one of our sex.
And man, even uian! can't evade him.
He sjM)rts with us all ; youni; or old, grea: or smaU,
Must obey him. whatever they utter;
And as for myself, 1 wish the sly elf
Would not make in mv heart such a flutter.
No, no, sly little love, poor Uttle love, &c.