Around this place, there liv'd the num'rous clans Known at that time by name of refugees- And here they lighted like a swarm of bees. Well! our two friends were saunt'ring through the street, Strait at the door he gave a thund'ring knock, (The time we may suppose near two o'clock) "I'll ask," says King, "if Thompson lodges here"66 Thompson !" cries t' other, "who the deuce is he?" "I know not," King replies, "but want to see What kind of animal will now appear." After some time a little Frenchman came, Though thus untimely rous'd, he courteous smil'd, Bending his head politely to his knee- Pray tell me, sare, vat your commands vid me?” "Sir," reply'd King, "I merely thought to know, As by your house I chanc'd to-night to go But, really, I disturb'd your sleep I fear- The shiv'ring Frenchman, tho' not pleas'd to find Too simple to suspect 'twas meant in jeer, Shrugg'd out a sigh that thus his rest should break, Then, with unalter'd courtesy, he spake No, sare, no Monsieur Tonson lodges here." Our wag begg'd pardon, and toward home he sped, While the poor Frenchman crawl'd again to bed; But King, resolv'd not thus to drop the jest, So the next night, with more of whim than grace, Again he made a visit to the place, To break once more the poor old Frenchman's rest He knock'd-but waited longer than before ; And oft indeed he made the door resound. At last King hears him o'er the passage creep, The Frenchman falter'd, with a kind of fright- No Monsieur Tonson in de varld I know, Indeed, sare, dare no Monsieur Tonson here!" Some more excuses tender'd, off King goes, The rogue next night pursu'd his old career— 'Twas long indeed before the man came nigh, And then he utter'd, in a piteous cry, "Sare, 'pon my soul, no Monsieur Tonson here!" Our sportive wight his usual visit paid, And the next night came forth a prattling maid: Whose tongue indeed than any jack went fasterAnxious she strove his errand to enquire, He said "'tis vain her pretty tongue to tire, He should not stir till he had seen her master" The damsel then began, in doleful state, And begg'd he'd call at proper time of day- But first had much of deep concern to say. Thus urg'd, she went the snoring man to call, E're she could rouse the torpid lump of clay- When King attacks him in his usual way. The Frenchman now perceiv'd 'twas all in vain And strait in rage began his crest to rear— Did I not say no Monsieur Tonson here?" True as the night, King went, and heard a strife Which should descend to chase the fiend away; At length to join their forces they agree, And strait impetuously they turn the key, Our hero, with the firmness of a rock, The name of Thompson rais'd the storm so high, With, "Well, I'll call when you 're in gentler mood." In short, our hero, with the same intent, They threw out water-for the watch they call, It happen'd that our wag, about this time, To London, with impatient hope, he flies, He fain must stroll, the well known haunt to trace; 66 Ah, here's the scene of frequent mirth," he said, "My poor old Frenchman, I suppose, is deadEgad, I'll knock, and see who holds his place." With rapid strokes he makes the mansion roar, Lo! who obeys the knocker's rattling peal? Capricious turn of sportive fortune's whe!! Without one thought of the relentless foe, Who, fiend-like, haunted him so long ago, Just in his former trim he now appears; And King's detested voice, astonish'd, hears. As if some hideous specter struck his sight, His face, indeed, bespoke a heart full sore— THE PHILOSOPHER'S SCALES.-JANE TAYLOR. A MONK, when his rites sacerdotal were o'er, Perhaps, it was only by patience and care, And, at length, he produced THE PHILOSOPHER'S SCALES. "What were they?" you ask; you shall presently see: From mountains or planets, to atoms of sense. |