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Till the fire burn'd in each brain ;

Oh! 'twas merry in the hall,

The beards wagg'd all,
May we soon see the like again!

In the second part of Henry IV., Act v. Scene 3, occur these lines:

Be merry-be merry-my wife as all,
For women are shrews, both short and tall,
'Tis
merry

in hall when Beards wag all

And welcome merry Shrove-tide. Mr. Warton in his “History of English Poetry observes that this rhyme is found in a poem by Adam Davie, called the “Life of Alexander"

Merry swithe it is in halle,

When the beards waveth alle. In the “Briefe Conceipts of English Pollicye," by William Stafford, 1581, it is asserted that it is a common proverb, “ 'Tis merry in hall when Beards wag all." In the “Serving Man's Comfort, 1598," occurs the passage “which done, grace said and the table taken up, a song is sung, the under-song, or holding whereof, is 'It is merry in haull, where beards wag all."" The song as now given is modern, and was introduced to the public by Mr. Murray, of the Edinburgh Theatre, who sang it in the character of Sir Mark Chase, in “A Roland for an Oliver."

THE GOOD TIME COMING.

CHARLES MACKAY.

THERE's a good time coming, boys,

A good time coming :
We may not live to see the day,
But earth shall glisten in the ray

Of the good time coming.
Cannon-balls may aid the truth,

But thought 's a weapon stronger ;
We 'll win our battle by its aid ;-

Wait a little longer.
There's a good time coming, boys,

A good time coming :
The pen shall supersede the sword,
And Right, not Might, shall be the lord,

In the good time coming.
Worth, not Birth, shall rule mankind,

And be acknowledg'd stronger;
The proper impulse has been given ;-

Wait a little longer.

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There's a good time coming, boys,

A good time coming :
The people shall be temperate,
And shall love instead of hate,

In the good time coming.
They shall use, and not abuse,

And make all virtue stronger;
The reformation has begun;-

Wait a little longer.

There's a good time coming, boys,

A good time coming :
Let us aid it all we can,
Every woman, every man,

The good time coming.
Smallest helps, if rightly given,

Make the impulse stronger ;
'Twill be strong enough one day ;-

Wait a little longer.

These verses—for it is doubtful whether they can strictly be called a song-appeared originally in the second number of the “Daily News," as one of the series entitled " Voices from the Crowd."

KING DEATH.

BARRY CORNWALL. From “ English Songs," 1884.

KING DEATH was a rare old fellow

He sat where no sun could shine,
And he lifted his hand so yellow,
And pour'd out his coal black wine.

Hurrah! for the coal black wipe!

There came to him many a maiden

Whose eyes had forgot to shine,
And widows with grief o'erladen,
For a draught of his coal black wine.

Hurrah! for the coal black wine !

The scholar left all his learning,

The poet his fancied woes,
And the beauty her bloom returning,
Like life to the fading rose.

Hurrah! for the coal black wine!

All came to the rare old fellow,

Who laugh'd till his eyes dropp'a brine,
And he gave them his hand so yellow,
And pledged them in Death's black wine.

Hurrah! for the coal black wine!

LITTLE FOOLS AND GREAT ONES.

CHARLES Mackay. From "Legends of the Isles and other Poems," 1845.

When at the social board you sit,

And pass around the wine,
Remember, though abuse is vile,

That use may be divine :
That Heaven in kindness gave the grape

To cheer both great and small —
That little fools will drink too much,

But great ones not at all.

And when in youth's too fleeting hours

You roam the earth alone,
And bave not sought some loving heart,

That you may make your own :
Remember woman's priceless worth,

And think, wben pleasures pall-
That little fools will love too much,

But great ones not at all.

And if a friend deceived you once,

Absolve poor human kind,
Nor rail against your fellow men

With malice in your mind;
But in your daily intercourse,

Remember, lest you fall-
That little fools confide too much,

But great ones not at all.

In weal or woe, be truthful still,

And in the deepest care,
Be bold and resolute, and sbun,

The coward foe-Despair.
Let work and hope go hand in hand,

And know, whate'er befall-
That little fools will hope too much,

But great ones not at all.

In work or pleasure, love or drink,

Your rule be still the sameYour work not toil, your pleasure pure,

Your love a steady flame; Your drink not maddening, but to cheer:

So shall your bliss not pall,For little fools enjoy too much,

But great ones not at all.

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