In vain with open hands he tries

To guard his ears, his nose his eyes;
For now at last, familiar grown,
He perched upon his worship's crown,
With teeth and claws his skin he tore,
And stuffed himself with human gore :
But now what rhetoric could assuage
The furious squire, stark mad with rage?
Impatient at the foul disgrace
From insect of so mean a race,
And plotting vengeance on his foe,
With double fist he aims a blow.

The nimble fly escaped by flight,
And skipped from this unequal fight.

Th' impending stroke with all its weight
Fell on his own beloved pate.

Thus much he gained by this adventurous deed;
He fouled his fingers and he broke his head.

MORAL.

Let senates hence learn to preserve their state,
And scorn the fool below their grave debate,
Who by the unequal strife grows popular and great.
Let him buzz on, with senseless rant defy
The wise, the good, yet still 't is but a fly.
With puny foes the toil's not worth the cost;
Where nothing can be gained, much may be lost;
Let cranes and pigmies in mock-war engage,
A prey beneath the gen'rous eagle's rage,
True honor o'er the clouds sub'imely wings;
Young Ammon scorns to run with less than kings.
WILLIAM SOMERVILLE.

EPITAPH ON A MISER.

ENEATH this verdant hillock lies
Demar, the wealthy and the wise.
His heirs, that he might safely rest,
Have put his carcass in a chest ;
The very chest in which, they say,
His other self, his money, lay.
And if his heirs continue kind
To that dear self he left behind,
I dare believe that four in five
Will think his better half alive.
JONATHAN SWIFT.

RIDDLES.

ON A PEN.

'N youth exalted high in air,

Or bathing in the waters fair,
Nature to form me took delight,
And clad my body all in white,
My person tall, and slender waist,
On either side with fringes graced ;
Till me that tyrant man espied,

And dragged me from my mother's side.

No wonder now I look so thin;

The tyrant stripped me to the skin;
My skin he flayed, my hair he cropped;
At head and foot my body lopped;

And then, with heart more hard than stone,
He picked my marrow from the bone.

To vex me more, he took a freak
To slit my tongue, and make me speak :
But that which wonderful appears,

I speak to eyes, and not to ears.
He oft employs me in disguise,
And makes me tell a thousand lies:
To me he chiefly gives in trust
To please his malice or his lust:
From me no secret he can hide:

I see his vanity and pride:
And my delight is to expose
His follies to his greatest foes.

All languages I can command,
Yet not a word I understand.
Without my aid, the best divine
In learning would not know a line;
The lawyer must forget his pleading;
The scholar could not show his reading.
Nay, man, my master, is my slave;

I give command to kill or save;
Can grant ten thousand pounds a year,
And make a beggar's brat a peer.
But while I thus my life relate,

I only hasten on my fate.

My tongue is black, my mouth is furred,
I hardly now can force a word.
I die unpitied and forgot,
And on some dunghill left to rot.

ON GOLD.

ALL-RULING tyrant of the earth,
To vilest slaves I owe my birth.
How is the greatest monarch blessed,
When in my gaudy livery dressed!
No haughty nymph has power to run
From me or my embraces shun.

Stabbed to the heart, condemned to flame,
My constancy is still the same.

The favorite messenger of Jove,

The Lemnian god, consulting, strove

To make me glorious to the sight
Of mortals, and the god's delight.
Soon would their altars' flame expire
If I refused to lend them fire.

ON THE FIVE SENSES.

ALL of us in one you'll find, Brethren of a wondrous kind; Yet, among us all, no brother Knows one tittle of the other. We in frequent councils are, And our marks of things declare; Where, to us unknown, a clerk Sits, and takes them in the dark.

He's the register of all

In our ken, both great and small;

By us forms his laws and rules;
He's our master, we his tools;
Yet we can, with greatest ease,
Turn and wind him where we please.

One of us alone can sleep,

Yet no watch the rest will keep;
But, the moment that he closes,
Every brother else reposes.

If wine's bought, or victuals dressed, One enjoys them for the rest.

Pierce us all with wounding steel, One for all of us will feel.

Though ten thousand cannons roar, Add to them ten thousand more, Yet but one of us is found Who regards the dreadful sound. Do what is not fit to tell,

There's but one of us can smell.

ON TIME.

EVER eating, never cloying, All devouring, all destroying; Never ending full repast,

Till I eat the world at last.

ON THE VOWELS.

WE are little airy creatures,

All of different voice and features:

One of us in glass is set,
One of us you'll find in jet;

T' other you may see in tin,
And the fourth a box within;
If the fifth you should pursue,
It can never fly from you.

JONATHAN SWIFT.

FRENCH COOKING.

make a plum-pudding a French count once took

An authentic receipt from an English lord's cook :

Mix suet, milk, eggs, sugar, meal, fruit and spice,
Of such numbers, such measure, and weight, and such
price;

Drop a spoonful of brandy to quicken the mess,
And boil it for so many hours, more or less.

These directions were tried, but, when tried, had no good in,

The French cooks, when they saw him, talked loud and talked long,

They were sure all was right, he could find nothing

wrong;

Till, just as the mixture was raised to the pot,

"Hold your hands! hold your hands!" screamed astonished John Trot:

"Don't you see you want one thing, like fools as you are?"

"Vone ting, Sare! Vat ting, Sare?”—“A puddingcloth, Sare!"

SAVED BY HIS WIT

A sailor, having been sentenced to the cat-o'-nine tails, when tied for punishment, spoke the following lines to his commander, who had an aversion to a cat.

Y your honor's command, an example I stand
Of your justice to all the ship's crew;

I am hampered and stripped, and, if I am

whipped,

'Tis no more than I own is my due.

In this scurvy condition, I humbly petition
To offer some lines to your eye:

Merry Tom by such trash once avoided the lash,
And, if fate and you please, so may I.

There is nothing you hate, I'm informed, like a cat ;
Why, your honor's aversion is mine :

If puss then with one tail can make your heart fail,
O save me from that which has nine!
N. B. He was pardoned.

THE FRIEND OF HUMANITY AND THE KNIFE-GRINDER.

FRIEND OF HUMANITY.

EEDY knife-grinder! whither are you going? Rough is the road; your wheel is out of order,

Bleak blows the blast;-your hat has got a hole in't;

So have your breeches!

Weary knife-grinder! little think the proud ones, Who in their coaches roll along the turnpike-road, What hard work 't is crying all day, "Knives and Scissors to grind O!"

pudding;

And monsieur, in a pet, sent a second request For the cook that prescribed to assist when 'twas dressed,

Who, of course, to comply with his honor's beseeching, Like an old cook of Colbrook, marched into the kitchen.

Was it the squire? or parson of the parish?

Or the attorney?

Was it the squire for killing of his game? or Covetous parson for his tithes distraining? Or roguish lawyer made you lose your little All in a lawsuit ?

Who varrants all der goods to suit
Der gustomers ubon his route,
Und ven dey gomes dey vas no goot?
Der drummer.

Who gomes aroundt ven I been oudt,
Drinks oup mine bier, und eats mine kraut,
Und kiss Katrina in der mout'?
Der drummer.

Who, ven he gomes again dis vay, Vill hear vot Pfeiffer has to say, Und mit a plack eye goes avay? Der drummer.

CHARLES F. ADAMS.

THE BUTTERFLY'S BALL.

OME take up your hats, and away let us haste To the Butterfly's ball and the Grasshopper's feast.

The trumpeter, Gad-fly, has summoned the

crew,

And the revels are now only waiting for you.

So said little Robert, and, pacing along,
His merry companions came forth in a throng.
And on the smooth grass, by the side of a wood,
Beneath a broad oak that for ages had stood,
Saw the children of earth, and the tenants of air,
For an evening's amusement together repair.
And there came the Beetle, so blind and so black,
Who carried the Emmet, his friend, on his back.
And there was the Gnat, and the Dragon-fly too,
With all their relations, green, orange, and blue.
And there came the Moth, with his plumage of down,
And the Hornet in jacket of yellow and brown;
Who with him the Wasp, his companion, did bring,
But they promised that evening to lay by their sting.
And the sly little Dormouse crept out of his hole,
And brought to the feast his blind brother, the Mole.
And the Snail, with his horns peeping out of his shell,
Came from a great distance, the length of an ell,
A mushroom their table, and on it was laid
A water-dock leaf, which a table-cloth made.
The viands were various, to each of their taste,
And the Bee brought her honey to crown the repast.
Then close on his haunches, so solemn and wise,
The Frog from a corner looked up to the skies.
And the Squirrel, well pleased such diversions to see,
Mounted high overhead, and looked down from a tree,
Then out came the Spider, with finger so fine,
To show his dexterity on the tight line.

From one branch to another, his cobwebs he slung,
Then quick as an arrow he darted along.
But, just in the middle-Oh! shocking to tell-
From his rope, in an instant, poor harlequin fell.