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Impossible! One might as well
With these half-dozen Indian beads.
Moreover, add that every one
So well exalts his pet distress, 'Tis-Give to all, or give to none, If you'd avoid invidiousness.
Your case, I feel, is sad as A.'s,
The same applies to B.'s and C.'s;
By my selection I should raise
An alphabet of rivalries;
And life is short,-I see you look
So, if I only hold you out
An open though an empty hand,
Why, you'll forgive me, I've no doubt.
Nay, do not rise. You seem amused;
Believe me, on these very grounds.
Good-bye, then. Ah, a rarity!
That cost me quite three hundred pounds,—— That Dürer figure,—“Charity.”
"Prophete rechts, Prophete links,
GOETHE'S Diné zu Coblenz.
here 's B.,
Who talks a chastened treason,
And C., a something-else in "ist,"
B., from his "tribune," fulminates
While C.'s peculiar coterie
Some patent new Philosophy
And yet-Why not? If zealots burn, Their zeal has not affected
My taste for salmon and Sauterne,
Or I might have objected :
Friend B., the argument you choose
There's but one creed,-that's Laissez faire; Behold its mild apostle !
My dear, declamatory pair,
Although you shout and jostle,
Not your ephemeral hands, nor mine,
TO Q. H. F.
SUGGESTED BY A CHAPTER IN THEODORE MARTIN'S
("ANCIENT CLASSICS FOR English readERS.")
ORATIUS FLACCUS, B.C. 8,"
There's not a doubt about the date,
You're dead and buried:
As you observed, the seasons roll;
And 'cross the Styx full many a soul
Has Charon ferried,
Since, mourned of men and Muses nine,
They laid you on the Esquiline.
And that was centuries ago!
You'd think we'd learned enough, I know,
Since last you trod the Sacred Street,
Or, by your cold Digentia, set
The web of winter birding-net.