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THE wild dove, to the garden spring,
In reply to some observations of Mr Dundas in the House of Commons, Sheridan observed—“The right honorable gentleman is indebted to his memory for his jests, and to his imagination for his facts.”
THE POOR OLD LION.
A Lion, who was so much worn out with age that he had lost his strength, lay groaning in his den ready to die. First came the boar to take his revenge upon him, with foaming tusks, for an old affront; next advanced the bull, and gored the sides of the enemy with his pointed horn. A spiteful ass, who saw the old monarch thus lying at the mercy of every one that had a mind to abuse him, trotted up, and gave him a kick on his forehead.
“Ah,” said the dying lion, “I thought it hard to be insulted in my last moments even by the brave; but to be thus spurned at by thee, who art the meanest of beasts — this alas! is a double death !”
The resentment of the noble is more easily to be borne than the malice of the base.
“Of all the nauseous, complicated crimes That both infect and stigmatize the times, There's none that can with impious oaths compare, Where vice and folly have an equal share.” THERE is something so low, coarse, and wicked in swearing, that it is surprising that men, who wish to be considered as wise and polite, should ever be found in the habit of it. It is a vice to which there is no temptation, and one of those sins which are called presumptuous. Swearing is not only reprobated by the laws of good taste and good manners, but forbidden by the commandment of God. He, who makes use of oaths, would seem to tell us that his bare word is not to be taken.
TO SENECA LAKE.
On thy fair bosom, silver lake!
And round his breast the ripples break,
On thy fair bosom, waveless stream |
And flashes in the moonlight gleam,
The waves along thy pebbly shore,
And curl around the dashing oar,
As sweet, at set of sun, to view
And see the mist of mantling blue,
At midnight hour, as shines the moon,
And swift she cuts, at highest noon,
On thy fair bosom, silver lake
When early birds at morning wake,
WHEN the unfortunate Duke D'Enghien was awakened in his cell at Valenciennes to be led to the place of execution, he said to the officer who brought the order, “What do you want?” The officer made no answer. “What o'clock is it?” “Midnight,” answered the officer, with a faltering voice. “Midnight,” exclaimed the Prince ; “ah, I know what brings you here; this hour is fatal to me — it was at midnight that I was taken from my house at Ettenheim — at midnight, the dungeon of Strasbourg was opened for me — at midnight again, I was taken out to be brought here—it is now midnight, and I have lived long enough to know how to die ”
THE FLY AND THE MULE.
A conceit ED fly, who sat upon the shaft of a carriage, thus insulted the mule that drew it; “What a lazy beast you are,” said she, “wont you move your legs a little faster 2 Take care then, that I do not pinch your skin for you with my pointed sting.” “Thou trifling insect ' " said the mule, “whatever you can say is beneath my notice. The person I am afraid of, is he who sits upon the box, and checks my speed with the foaming reins. Away, then, with your trifling insolence, for I know when to hasten, and when to slacken my pace, without being directed by such an impotent being as you are.”
This fable is levelled against those frivolous mortals who affect to give direction without skill, and to threaten without power.
MY FATHER’s GRAVE. – GRATITUDE. 139
MY FATHER'S GRAVE.
“My father's grave,” I heard her say,
Oh, no! I would not go away-
A thousand throbbing sympathies
And every eve remembrance sighs
Some human tears unbidden start,
For all things whisper to my heart,
Young hope may blend each color gay,
But no! I would not go away—
THE bridegroom may forget the bride
The monarch may forget his crown,
The mother may forget the child
But I’ll remember thee, Glencairn,