I asked the ancient, venerable dead, Of life had left his veins: "Time!" he replied; I asked the Seasons, in their annual round, "Tis Folly's blank, and Wisdom's highest prize!" I asked a spirit lost, but O the shriek THE JESTER'S SERMON. That pierced my soul! I shudder while I speak. THE Jester shook his hood and bells, and leaped It cried, "A particle! a speck! a mite I asked old Father Time himself at last; His noiseless steeds, which left no trace behind. upon a chair, The pages laughed, the women screamed, and tossed their scented hair; The falcon whistled, staghounds bayed, the lapdog barked without, The scullion dropped the pitcher brown, the cook railed at the lout! The steward, counting out his gold, let pouch and money fall, And why? because the Jester rose to say grace in the hall! The page played with the heron's plume, the steward with his chain, The butler drummed upon the board, and laughed with might and main ; "Mortal!" he cried, "the mystery now is o'er; The grooms beat on their metal cans, and roared Time was, Time is, but Time shall be no more!" 'No, sir," quoth he, till they were red, But still the Jester shut his eyes and rolled his witty head; And when they grew a little still, read half a yard of text, And, waving hand, struck on the desk, then frowned like one perplexed. "Dear sinners all," the fool began, “man's life is but a jest, "Call me not fool, till heaven hath sent me for- A dream, a shadow, bubble, air, a vapor at the best, tune." In a thousand pounds of law I find not a single ounce of love; A blind man killed the parson's cow in shooting at the dove; Thus may we see," quoth he, "how the world wags: The fool that eats till he is sick must fast till he "T is but an hour ago since it was nine; is well; The wooer who can flatter most will bear away the belle. "Let no man halloo he is safe till he is through the wood; He who will not when he may, must tarry when he should. He who laughs at crooked men should need walk | He frothed his bumpers to the brim ; To travel well, an ass's ears, ape's face, hog's mouth, and ostrich legs. He does not care a pin for thieves who limps about and begs. Be always first man at a feast and last man at a fray; The short way round, in spite of all, is still the longest way. Old year, you shall not die ; He was full of joke and jest, To see him die across the waste His son and heir doth ride post-haste, But he'll be dead before. Every one for his own. The night is starry and cold, my friend, How hard he breathes! over the snow When the hungry curate licks the knife, there's I heard just now the crowing cock. not much for the clerk; When the pilot, turning pale and sick, looks up The cricket chirps: the light burns low: 'Tis nearly twelve o'clock. Shake hands before you die. His face is growing sharp and thin. And waiteth at the door. There's a new foot on the floor, my friend, ALFRED TENNYSON. THE DOORSTEP. THE Conference-meeting through at last, Not braver he that leaps the wall By level musket-flashes litten, Who longed to see me get the mitten. But no; she blushed, and took my arm ! |