TEAM AND RUBENS. mi a in this together suitTac s ms grand is always most dres Cude tť a fool, L rss Lishad Angelo; 1x Jerstat mesness thus to praise a XV. FUSELI. HE only man that ever I knew Who did not make me almost spue Was Fuseli: he was both Turk and Jew. And so, dear Christian friends, how do you do? XVI. TO FLAXMAN. OU call me mad; 'tis folly to do so,- If you think as you speak, you are an ass; If you do not, you are but what you was. XVII. To THE SAME. MOCK thee not, though I by thee am mocked; Thou call'st me madman, but I call thee blockhead. XVIII. ON STOTHARD. OU say reserve and modesty he has, Whose heart is iron, his head wood, and his face brass. The fox, the owl, the spider, and the bat, By sweet reserve and modesty grow fat. XIX. HEN nations grow old The Arts grow cold, And Commerce settles on every tree; And the poor and the old Can live upon gold, For all are born poor. Aged sixty-three. TIRIEL. I ND aged Tiriel stood before the gates of his beautiful palace, With Myratana, once the Queen of all the western plains; But now his eyes were darkened, and his wife fading in death. They stood before their once delightful palace; and thus the voice Of aged Tiriel arose, that his sons might hear in their gates. "Accursed race of Tiriel! behold your father; Come forth and look on her that bore you. Come, you accursed sons. In my weak arms I here have borne your dying mother; Come forth, sons of the curse, come forth! see the death of Myratana.” His sons ran from their gates, and saw their aged parents stand: And thus the eldest son of Tiriel raised his mighty voice: "Old man! unworthy to be called the father of Tiriel's race! For every one of those thy wrinkles, each of those grey hairs, Are cruel as death, and as obdurate as the devouring pit! Why should thy sons care for thy curses, thou accursed man? Were we not slaves till we rebelled? for Tiriel's curse? Who cares His blessing was a cruel curse; his curse may be a blessing." He ceased. The aged man raised up his right hand to the heavens; His left supported Myratana, shrinking in pangs of death. The orbs of his large eyes he opened, and thus his voice went forth : 66 Serpents, not sons, wreathing around the bones of Tiriel! Ye worms of death, feasting upon your aged parents' flesh, Listen, and hear your mother's groans. No more accursed sons She bears; she groans not at the birth of Heuxos or Yuva. These are the groans of death, ye serpents! these are the groans of death! Nourished with milk, ye serpents, nourished with mother's tears and cares! |