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MUTUA BENEVOLENTIA.

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Perculsus novitate rei, incertusque timore,
Vix tandem tremulas admovet erro manus;
Et spinam explorans (nam fixa in vulnere spina
Hærebat) cauto molliter ungue trahit:
Continuo dolor omnis abit, teter fluit humor :
Et coit, absterso sanguine, rupta cutis ;
Nunc iterum sylvas dumosque peragrat; et affort
Providus assiduas hospes ad antra dapes.
Juxta epulis accumbit homo conviva leonis,
Nec crudos dubitat participare cibos.
Quis tamen ista ferat desertæ tædia vitæ ?
Vix furor ultoris tristior esset heri.
Devotum certis caput objectare periclis
Et patrios statuit rursus adire lares.
Traditur hic, fera facturus spectacula, plebi,
Accipit et miserum tristis arena reum.
Irruit e caveis fors idem impastus et acer,
Et medicum attonito suspicit ore leo.
Suspicit, et veterem agnoscens vetus hospes amicum
Decumbit notos blandulus ante pedes.
Quid vero perculsi animis, stupuere Quirites?
Ecquid prodigii, territa Roma, vides?

Unius naturæ opus est; ea soia furorem

Sumere quæ jussit, ponere sola jubot.

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RECIPROCAL KINDNESS,

THE PRIMARY LAW OF NATURE.

ANDROCLES from his injur'd lord in dread
Of instant death, to Libya's desert fled.

Tir'd with his toilsome flight, and parch'd with heat,
He spied, at length, a cavern's cool retreat;
But scarce had giv'n to rest his weary frame,

When hugest of his kind, a lion came :
He roar'd approaching; but, the savage din
To plaintive murmurs chang'd, arriv'd within,
And with expressive looks his lifted paw
Presenting, aid implor'd from whom he saw.
The fugitive, through terrour at a stand,
Dar'd not awhile afford his trembling hand,
But bolder grown, at length inherent found
A pointed thorn, and drew it from the wound.
The cure was wrought; he wip'd the sanious blood,
And firm and free from pain the lion stood.
Again he seeks the wilds, and day by day,
Regales his inmate with the parted prey,
Nor he disdains the dole, though unprepar'd,
Spread on the ground, and with a lion shar’d.
But thus to live-still lost-sequester'd still-
Scarce seem'd his lord's revenge an heavier ill.
Home! native home! O might he but repair!
He must-he will, though death attends him there.
He goes, and doom'd to perish on the sands
Of the full Theatre unpitied stands ;
When lo! the self-same lion from his cage
Flies to devour him, famish'd into rage.
He flies, but viewing in his purpos'd prey
The man. his healer, pauses on his way,

And soften'd by remembrance into sweet
And kind composure, crouches at his feet.

Mute with astonishment th' assembly gaze:
But why, ye Romans? Whence your mute amaze
All this is natural; nature bade him rend
An enemy; she bids him spare a friend.

?

MANUALE

Typographia omni antiquius, nulli uspiam Librorum insertum Catalogo.

EXIGUUS liber est, muliebri creber in usu,
Per se qui dici bibliotheca potest.
Copia verborum non est, sed copia rerum ;
Copia (quod nemo deneget) utilior.
Rubris consuitur pannis, fors texitur auro;

Bis sexta ad summum pagina claudit opus.
Nil habet a tergo titulive aut nominis; intus
Thesauros artis servat, et intus opes:
Intus opes, quas nympha sinu pulcherrima gestet,
Quas nive candidior tractet ametque manus,
Quando instrumentum præsens sibi postulat usus,
Majusve, aut operis pro ratione, minus.
Et genere et modulo diversa habet arma, gradatim
Digesta, ad numeros attenuata suos.
Primum enchiridii folium majuscula profert,
Qualia quæ blæso est lumine poscat anus.

Quod sequitur folium, matronis arma ministrat,
Dicere quæ magnis proximiora licet.

Tertium, item quartum, quintumque minuscula sup

plet

Sed non ejusdem singula quæque loci.

Disposita ordinibus certis, discrimina servant;

Quæ sibi conveniant, seligat unde nurus.
Ultima quæ restant quæ multa minutula nympha
Dicit, sunt sexti divitiæ folii.

Quantillo in spatio doctrina O quanta latescit !
Quam tamen obscuram vix brevitate voces.
Non est interpres, nec commentarius ullus,
Aut index; tam sunt omnia perspicua.
Ætatem ad quamvis, ad captum ita fingitur omnem
Ut nihil auxilii postulet inde liber.

Millia librorum numerat perplura; nec ullum
Bodlæi huic jactat bibliotheca parem.
Millia Cæsareo numerat quoque munere Granta,
Hæc tamen est inter millia tale nihil.

Non est, non istis auctor de millibus unus,
Cui tanta ingenii vis, vel acumen, inest

A MANUAL,

More ancient than the Art of Printing, and not to be found in any Catalogue.

THERE is a book, which we may call

(Its excellence is such)

Alone a library tho' small;

The ladies thumb it much

Words none, things num'rous it contains;
And, things with words compar'd,
Who needs be told, that has his brains,
Which merits most regard!

Ofttimes its leaves of scarlet hue

A golden edging boast;

And open'd, it displays to view

Twelve pages at the most.

Nor name, nor title, stamp'd behind,

Adorns its outer part;

But all within 'tis richly lin'd,
A magazine of art.

The whitest hands that secret hoard

Oft visit: and the fair

Preserve it in their bosom stor'd

As with a miser's care.

!

Thence implements of ev'ry size,
And form'd for various use,
(They need but to consult their eyes)
They readily produce.

The largest and the longest kind
Possess the foremost page,
A sort most needed by the blind,
Or nearly such from age.

The full-charg'd leaf, which next ensues,
Presents, in bright array,

The smaller sort, which matrons use,

Not quite so blind as they.

The third, the fourth, the fifth supply
What their occasions ask,

Who with a more discerning eye
Perform a nicer task.

But still with regular decrease
From size to size they fall,
In ev'ry leaf grow less and less;
The last are least of all.

O! what a fund of genius, pent
In narrow space, is here!
This volume's method and intent
How luminous and clear'

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