Puslapio vaizdai
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I care not how you are dressed,

In the coarsest or in the best;

Nor whether your name is base or brave;
Nor for the fashion of your behavior;
But whether you charm me,

Bid my bread feed and my fire warm me,
And dress up Nature in your favor

One thing is forever good;

That one thing is Success,

Dear to the Eumenides,

And to all the heavenly brood.

Who bides at home, nor looks abroad,

Carries the eagles, and masters the sword.

GUY.

MORTAL mixed of middle clay,
Attempered to the night and day,

Interchangeable with things,

Needs no amulets nor rings.

Guy possessed the talisman

That all things from him began ;

And as, of old, Polycrates

Chained the sunshine and the breeze,

So did Guy betimes discover

Fortune was his guard and lover;

In strange junctures, felt, with awe,

His own symmetry with law;

So that no mixture could withstand
The virtue of his lucky hand.
He gold or jewel could not lose,
Nor not receive his ample dues.

In the street, if he turned round,

His eye the eye 'twas seeking found.
It seemed his Genius discreet

Worked on the Maker's own receipt,
And made each tide and element
Stewards of stipend and of rent;
So that the common waters fell
As costly wine into his well.
He had so sped his wise affairs

That he caught Nature in his snares :

Early or late, the falling rain

Arrived in time to swell his grain;

Stream could not so perversely wind

But corn of Guy's was there to grind; The siroc found it on its way,

To speed his sails, to dry his hay;
And the world's sun seemed to rise,

To drudge all day for Guy the wise.
In his rich nurseries, timely skill
Strong crab with nobler blood did fill;
The zephyr in his garden rolled
From plum-trees vegetable gold;

And all the hours of the year

With their own harvest honored were.

There was no frost but welcome came, Nor freshet, nor midsummer flame. Belonged to wind and world the toil And venture, and to Guy the oil.

TACT.

WHAT boots it, thy virtue,
What profit thy parts,

While one thing thou lackest,

The art of all arts?

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The only credentials,

Passport to success;

Opens castle and parlor,
Address, man, Address.

The maiden in danger

Was saved by the swain;

His stout arm restored her

To Broadway again.

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