. The choice works of Thomas Hood, in prose and verse. s I Why, then, said she, youve lost the fee» Of legs in wars alarms,^nd now you cannot wear your shoes Upon your feais of arms ! Oh, false and fickle Nelly Gray I I know why you refuse :—Though Ive no feet, some other man Is standing in my shoes 1 * I wish I neer had seen your face ; But, now, a long farewell IFor you will be my death ;—alas 1 You will not be my Nell I ^ Now when he went from Nelly Gray, His heart so heavy got,And life was such a burthen grown. It made him take a knot! So round his melancholy neck A rope he did entwine,And
. The choice works of Thomas Hood, in prose and verse. s I Why, then, said she, youve lost the fee» Of legs in wars alarms,^nd now you cannot wear your shoes Upon your feais of arms ! Oh, false and fickle Nelly Gray I I know why you refuse :—Though Ive no feet, some other man Is standing in my shoes 1 * I wish I neer had seen your face ; But, now, a long farewell IFor you will be my death ;—alas 1 You will not be my Nell I ^ Now when he went from Nelly Gray, His heart so heavy got,And life was such a burthen grown. It made him take a knot! So round his melancholy neck A rope he did entwine,And, for his second time in life, Enlisted in the Line ! One end he tied around a beam, And then removed his pegs,And, as his legs were off,—of course^ He soon was off his legs I 176 FANCY PORTRAITS. And there he hung, till he was dead As any nail in town, —For though distress had cut him up, It could not cut him down ! A dozen men sat on his corpse,To find out why he died— And they buried i3en in four cross-roads,With a stake in his inside !. The Bard of Hope FANCY PORTRAITS. MANY authors preface their works with a portrait, and it savesthe reader a deal of speculation. The world loves to knowsomething of the features of its favourites ;—it likes the Geniuses toappear bodily, as well as the Genii. We may estimate the livelinessof this curiosity by the abundance of portraits, masks, busts, chinaand plaster casts, that are extant, of great or would-be great soon as a gentleman has proved, in print, ihit he really has ahead, a score of artists begin to brush at it. The literary lions haveno peace to their manes. Sir Walter is eternally sitting like Theseusto some painter or other; and the late Lord Byron threw out moreheads before he died than Hydra. The first novel of Mr Gait hadbarely been announced in the second edition, when he was requested FANCY PORTRAITS. 177 to allow himself to be taken in one minute ;—Mr Geoffrey Crayonwas no sooner known to be Mr W
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