One of my making ?-what, my lord, my making?" Se-sostris, sire," so soft, the peer replied— "A famous king of Egypt, sir, of old." Oh, poh !" th' instructed monarch snappish cried, "I need not that I need not that be told." “Pray, pray, my lord, who 's that big fellow there ?" ""Tis Hercules,” replies the shrinking peer; Strong fellow, hey, my lord? strong fellow, hey? Cleaned stables!--cracked a lion like a flea; Killed snakes, great snakes, that in a cradle found him The queen, queen's coming! wrap an apron around him.” Our moral is not merely water-gruel-- It shows that curiosity's a jewel! It shows with kings that ignorance may dwell: As information to great folk is hell: It shows that decency may live with kings, On whom the bold virtu-men turn their backs; And shows (for numerous are the naked things) That saucy statues should be lodged in sacks. ODE TO THE DEVIL. The devil is not so black as he is painted. Ingratum Odi. PRINCE of the dark abodes! I ween Your highness ne'er till now hath seen Yourself in meter shine; Ne'er heard a song with praise sincere, PETER PINDAR. Perhaps the reason is too plain, Thou triest to starve the tuneful train, Of potent verse afraid! And yet I vow, in all my time, That ever spoiled thy trade. I've often read those pious whims— What have they done ?-those heavenly strains, There's not a shoe-black in the land, Like lightning dost thou fly, when called, What thousands, hourly bent on sin, Yet, when detected, with a lie Behold the fortunes that are made, As to thy company, I'm sure, No man can shun thee on that score; With kings, queens, ministers of state, Lords, ladies, I have seen thee great, And many a grave divine. I'm sorely grieved at times to find, When aught offends, with face awry, "I wish it to the Devil." Hath some poor blockhead got a wife, By one eternal yell The fellow cries out coarsely, "Zounds, I'd give this moment twenty pounds Should Heaven their prayers so ardent grant, Thou never company wouldst want To make thee downright mad; For, mind me, in their wishing mood, My honest anger boils to view To seize one day in every week, Blushing I own thy pleasing art And led my steps to joy The charms of beauty have been mine Who broughtst the lovely toy. No, Satan-if I ask thy aid, But say, "'Tis thy vocation, Hal." Since truth must out-I seldom knew I never wished to part. Yet when a child-good Lord! I thought Taught to avoid the paths of evil, And trembling when 't was night, And every night I went to bed, A haberdasher's shop is thine, Thy wares they buy, with open eyes; To vilify thy trade! To speak the truth, indeed, I'm loath- So mawkish, few will put it down, O Satan, whatsoever geer, Thy Proteus form shall choose to wear, 'Tis ordered (to deaf ears, alas!) To praise the bridge o'er which we pass · Yet often I discover A numerous band who daily make An easy bridge of thy poor back, Why art thou, then, with cup in hand, Whose souls are scarce worth taking; O prince, pursue but my advice, Plays, operas, masquerades, destroy: And gag the mouth of slander; In one week's time, I'll lay my life, That will not glad agree, If thou will charm 'em as before, But quit their God for thee. |