That night, by chance, the poet, watching, Heard an inexplicable scratching;
His noble heart went pit-a-pat,
And to himself he said-"What's that?"
He drew the curtain at his side,
And forth he peeped, but nothing spied.
Yet, by his ear directed, guessed
Something imprisoned in the chest ;
And, doubtful what, with prudent care
Resolved it should continue there.
At length a voice which well he knew,
A long and melancholy mew,
Saluting his poetic ears,
Consoled him, and dispelled his fears;
He left his bed, he trod the floor,
He 'gan in haste the drawers explore,
The lowest first, and without stop
The next in order to the top.
For 'tis a truth well know to most,
That whatsoever thing is lost,
We seek it, ere it come to light,
In every cranny but the right.
Forth skipped the cat, not now replete
As erst with airy self-conceit,
Nor in her own fond comprehension,
A theme for all the world's attention,
But modest, sober, cured of all
Her notions hyperbolical,
And wishing for a place of rest,
Any thing rather than a chest.
Then stepped the poet into bed
With this reflection in his head:
Beware of too sublime a sense
Of your own worth and consequence.
The man who dreams himself so great
And his importance of such weight,
That all around in all that's done
Must move and act for him alone,
Will learn in school of tribulation
The folly of his expectation.
Two gentlemen their appetite had fed,
When opening his toothpick-case, one said,
"It was not until lately that I knew
That anchovies on terrâ firmâ grew.
"Grow!” cried the other, "yes, they grow, indeed,
Like other fish, but not upon the land;
You might as well say grapes grow on a reed,
Or in the Strand!"
“Why, sir,” returned the irritated other,
When at Calcutta
Beheld them bonâ fide growing;
He would n't utter
A lie for love or money, sir; so in
This matter you are thoroughly mistaken.” "Nonsense, sir! nonsense! I can give no credit
To the assertion-none e'er saw or read it;
Your brother, like his evidence, should be shaken."
"Be shaken, sir! let me observe, you are
Perverse-in short-"
Sir," said the other, sucking his cigar,
And then his port―
"If you will say impossibles are true,
You may affirm just any thing you pleaseThat swans are quadrupeds, and lions blue, And elephants inhabit Stilton cheese!
Only you must not force me to believe
What's propagated merely to deceive.”
"Then you force me to say, sir, you're a fool,"
Return'd the bragger.
Language like this no man can suffer cool:
It made the listener stagger;
So, thunder-stricken, he at once replied,
"The traveler lied
Who had the impudence to tell it you;' "Zounds! then d'ye mean to swear before my face That anchovies don't grow like cloves and mace?" "I do!"
Disputants often after hot debates
Leave the contention as they found it-bone, And take to duelling or thumping têtes;
Thinking by strength of artery to atone
For strength of argument; and he who winces From force of words, with force of arms convinces !
With pistols, powder, bullets, surgeons, lint,
Seconds, and smelling-bottles, and foreboding,
Our friends advanced; and now portentous loading
(Their hearts already loaded) serv'd to show
It might be better they shook hands-but no;
When each opines himself, though frighten'd, right,
Each is, in courtesy, oblig'd to fight!
And they did fight: from six full measured paces
The unbeliever pulled his trigger first;
And fearing, from the braggart's ugly faces,
The whizzing lead had whizz'd its very worst,
Ran up, and with a duelistic fear
(His ire evanishing like morning vapors), Found him possess'd of one remaining ear, Who in a manner sudden and uncouth,
Had given, not lent, the other ear to truth;
For while the surgeon was applying lint,
He, wriggling, cried—“The deuce is in't—
"Sir! I meant—CAPERS !"
medio de fonte leporum
Surgit amari aliquid.-Lucret.
JULIA was blest with beauty, wit, and grace:
Small poets loved to sing her blooming face.
Before her altars, lo! a numerous train
Preferr'd their vows; yet all preferr'd in vain:
Till charming Florio, born to conquer, came,
And touch'd the fair one with an equal flame.
The flame she felt, and ill could she conceal
What every look and action would reveal.
With boldness then, which seldom fails to move,
He pleads the cause of marriage and of love;
The course of hymeneal joys he rounds,
The fair one's eyes dance pleasure at the sounds.
Naught now remain'd but "Noes"-how little meant--
And the sweet coyness that endears consent.
The youth upon his knees enraptured fell :-
The strange misfortune, oh! what words can tell?
Tell! ye neglected sylphs! who lap-dogs guard,
Why snatch'd ye not away your precious ward?
Why suffer'd ye the lover's weight to fall
On the ill-fated neck of much-loved Ball?
The favorite on his mistress casts his eyes,
Gives a melancholy howl, and—dies!
Sacred his ashes lie, and long his rest!
Anger and grief divide poor Julia's breast.
Her eyes she fix'd on guilty Florio first,
On him the storm of angry grief must burst.
That storm he fled:-he woos a kinder fair,
Whose fond affections no dear puppies share.
"T were vain to tell how Julia pined away;
Unhappy fair, that in one luckless day
(From future almanacs the day be cross'd!)
At once her lover and her lap-dog lost!
ONCE on a time three Pilgrims true,
Being Father and Mother and Son,
For pure devotion to the Saint,
A pilgrimage begun.
Their names, little friends, I am sorry to say,
In none of my books can I find;
But the son, if you please, we 'll call Pierre,
What the parents were called, never mind.
From France they came, in which fair land
They were people of good renown;
And they took up their lodging one night on the way
In La Calzada town.
Now, if poor Pilgrims they had been,
And had lodged in the Hospice instead of the Inn,
My good little women and men,
Why then you never would have heard,
This tale of the Cock and the Hen.
For the Innkeepers they had a daughter,
Sad to say, who was just such another
As Potiphar's daughter, I think, would have been
If she followed the ways of her mother.
This wicked woman to our Pierre
Behaved like Potiphar's wife;
And because she failed to win his love,
She resolved to take his life.
So she packed up a silver cup
In his wallet privily;
And then, as soon as they were gone,
She raised a hue and cry.
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