Star.
London, England, 1830-10-12 00:00:00

SCINTILLA'.

LUNATIC LAY&
FROM THE NEW MONTHLY MAGAZIN!.
" Adieu my Moustachios farewell to my Tip."
Adieu my moustachios—farewell to my tip,
Lost, lost is the pride of my chin and my lip ;
His Majesty wills it, like Sampson I'm cropt,
And the killing career of Adonis is stopt.
The rasors are ruthless—my honours they nip,
Adieu my moustachios--farewell to my tip !
Mae ! what avails the loud clank of ray spun,
What signify tassel., and feathers and furs ?
The plaingaliewe *at the waist may look slim,
The troween eamieum'd to exhibit the limb,
My farm Isre=ssimislffing quiP,
M isr my 1 it leirdl to my tip !
I know they death a Ommaatler who stoops,
To all feeds* balm le deck Bridsh troops ;
But surely the bligem leek Ember more big,
In mmetadthe tip—like a judge in his wig ;
I know I Ink mall with my sward on my hip,
Adieu my niemeleeltios ! farewell to my tip !

When Laura lest saw n% she own'd that the world
Ciestain'd no piewastides es charmingly curi'd ;
Ilbs *snit Susi lbsdip, adunlike the skull
Of the wearystiessidle Plow, John Ball !
But now Ohs call me " csetemptible rip !"
Adieu my issestachios I farewell to my tip!
I went to &sleeve both pensive and pale,
I felt like a puppy.dog robb'd of his tail ;
The Duke eyed me coldly when notice I craved,
—Ah ! would he had seen me before I was shaved !
And as I kised hands, l'm afraid I let slip
"Adieu my monstachios ! farewell to my tip !"
Ab, at a mess dinner, how graceful to dip
My napkin, and wipe of the was nem my !IL
Thtlair that grew on it was steep'd in each
And nourlsh'd by gravy—aoup—sanees of fish...:
They are gone—and my claret I pensively sip,—
Adieu my moustachious ! farewell to my tip !
They were red—and I dyed them--and now at the stain
Which remains on the skin I scrub daily—..in vain !
The hair is shaved of, but a seascaing is seen
Which I fear may be thought to look rather unclear.
I hope It don't look like a chimnepsweep's lip—
Adieu my moustachious ; farewell to my tip !
My principal reason, I frankly confess,
For being a soldier at all,—was the dress ;
The line on my lip, and the dot on my chin,
Became ms—the change is a horrid take in—
I might just as well now have gone on board ship.
Adieu my moustachios, farewel to my tip !
I know that they deem it unmanly to weep,
So into half-pay I'll despondingly creep !
The star of my beauty is lost in eclipse !
I'fl sit in seclusion and sigh for hoir4lps !
The tears down my no Dow incessantly drip—
Adieu my mustathios ! farewell to my tip

AWFUL INSTANCE OF RASH PASSION.
I once had a friend, and have reason to grieve he
E'er saw the daughter of Benjamin Levi ;
For, having seen the sweet girl of the Jew, he sigh'd.
That, now's a virgin to drive one to suicide !
A Christian can't marry her ; no, yet her loss if 1
Suffer, I feel that my heart will soon ossify I
I'll do what'll prove more the love than the wit o'me,
I'll swallow oxalic. then surely she'll pity me,
And garnish my grave with some few sprigs of rosemary,
He did as he said, and died crying, " Here goes, Mary !"
Fraser's Magasine.

A Spanish Refugee brought over with him a little dog hum Spain.
who lately died ; and in commemoration of this arelaseholy event, he
has composed a sonnet, of which the following is a translation made by
an English lady :
TO MORON.
Through unknown crowds with weary step I roan:.
A woe-worn wanderer on a foreign shore ;
And when I seek my solitary home,
Thy friendly welcome meets my ear no more.
How of the fond expe of thine eye'
Hemmed through the anguish of frame!
How did thy trembling limbs im try
To spring responsive to the autos!
My faithful Guard ! on yea deserted bed,
Near thy sad master did'st thou love to rest ;
But Death's cold hand his cruel venom spread,
Stilled the warm throbbings of thy generous bteas.—.
Snatched the last solace of my exiled state,
And left the Wanderer to his lonely fate.

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