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Poison themselves, and all that they have made !
Come also, Chiron, with thy num'rous troop
Of Centaurs, as well those who died beneath
The club of Hercules, as who escaped,
And stamp their crockery to dust; down fall
Their chimney ; let them see it with their eyes,
And howl to see the ruin of their art,
While I rejoice ; and if & potter stoop
To peep into his furnace, may the fire
Flash in his face and scorch it, that all men
Observe, thenceforth, equity and good faith.




COULD be well content, allow'd the use

Of past experience, and the wisdom glean'd
From worn-out follies, now acknowledged such,
To recommence life's trial, in the hope
Of fewer errors, on a second proof!

Thus, while grey ev'ning lull’d the wind, and call'd
Fresh odours from the shrubb'ry at my side,
Taking my lonely winding walk, I mused,
And held accustom'd conference with my heart ;
When from within it thus a voice replied.
"Couldst thou in truth ? and art thou taught at

This wisdom, and but this, from all the past !
Is not the pardon of thy long arrear,
Time wasted, violated laws, abuse


Of talents, judgments, mercies, better far
Than opportunity vouchsafed to err
With less excuse, and haply, worse effect ?

I heard, and acquiesced : then to and fro
Oft pacing, as the mariner his deck,
My grav'lly bounds, from self to human-kind
I pass'd, and next consider'd-what is man ?

Knows he his origin ! can he ascend
By reminiscence to his earliest date ?
Slept he in Adam ? and in those from him
Through num'rous generations, till he found
At length his destined moment to be born?
Or was he not, till fashion'd in the womb ? [toil'd
Deep myst'ries both ! which schoolmen much have
To unriddle, and have left them myst'ries still.

It is an evil incident to man,
And of the worst, that unexplored he leaves
Truths useful and attainable with ease,
To search forbidden deeps, where myst'ry lies
Not to be solved, and useless, if it might.
Myst'ries are food for angels; they digest
With ease, and find them nutriment; but man,
While yet he dwells below, must stoop to glean
His manna from the ground, or starve, and die.




*WO nymphs, both nearly of an age,

Of numerous charms possessid,
A warm dispute once chanced to wage,

Whose temper was the best.

The worth of each had been complete,

Had both alike been mild :
But one, although her smile was sweet,

Frown'd oft'ner than she smiled.

And in her humour, when she frown'd,

Would raise her voice and roar, And shake with fury to the ground

The garland that she wore.

The other was of gentler cast,

From all such frenzy clear,
Her frowns were seldom known to last,

And never proved severe.

To poets of renown in song

The nymphs referr'd the cause, Who, strange to tell, all judged it wrong,

And gave misplaced applause.

They gentle call’d, and kind and soft,

The flippant and the scold, And though she changed her mood so oft,

That failing left untold.

No judges, sure, were e'er so mad,

Or so resolved to err-
In short, the charms her sister had

They lavish'd all on her.

Then thus the God whom fondly they

Their great Inspirer call,
Was heard, one genial summer's day,

To reprimand them all.

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“Since thus ye have combined,” he said,

My fav’rite nymph to slight, Adorning May, that peevish maid,

With June's undoubted right,

"The minx shall, for your folly's sake,

Still prove herself a shrow, Shall make your scribbling fingers ache,

And pinch your noses blue.'



As poet well could wish to have, Was much addicted to inquire For nooks to which she might retire, And where, secure as mouse in chink, She might repose, or sit and think. I know not where she caught the trick, Nature perhaps herself had cast her In such a mould PHILOSOPHIQUE, Or else she learn'd it of her master. Sometimes ascending, debonnair, An apple-tree, or lofty pear, Lodg'd with convenience in the fork, She watch'd the gard'ner at his work ; Sometimes her ease and solace sought In an old empty wat'ring pot, There wanting nothing, save a fan, To seem some nymph in her sedan, Apparell’d in exactest sort, And ready to be borne to court.

But love of change it seems has place, Not only in our wiser race, Cats also feel, as well as we, That passion's force, and so did she. Her climbing, she began to find, Expos'd her too much to the wind, And the old utensil of tin Was cold and comfortless within : She therefore wish'd instead of those Some place of more serene repose, Where neither cold might come, nor air Too rudely wanton with her hair, And sought it in the likeliest mode Within her master's snug abode.

A draw'r, it chanc'd, at bottom lined With linen of the softest kind, With such as merchants introduce From India, for the ladies' use, A draw'r impending o'er the rest, Half open in the topmost chest, Of depth enough, and none to spare, Invited her to slumber there; Puss, with delight beyond expression, Surveyed the scene and took possession. Recumbent at her ease ere long, And lull’d by her own humdrum song, She left the cares of life behind, And slept as she would sleep her last; When in came, housewifely inclined, The chambermaid, and shut it fast, By no malignity impellid, But all unconscious whom it held.

Awaken'd by the shock, (cried puss) " Was ever cat attended thus !

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