He lives to learn, in life's hard school,
How few who pass above him
Lament their triumph and his loss,
Like her, because they love him.
John Greenleaf Whittier.
OVE on a day, wise poets tell,
Some time in wrangling spent,
Whether the Violets should excel,
Or she, in sweetest scent.
But Venus having lost the day,
Poor girls! she fell on you;
And beat ye so as some dare say,
Her blows did make ye blue.
Robert Herrick, 1591—1674.
YOUNG Jessica sat all the day,
With heart o'er idle love-thoughts pining, Her needle bright beside her lay,
So active once!-now idly shining.
Ah, Jessy, 'tis in idle hearts
That love and mischief are most nimble;
The safest shield against the darts
Of Cupid, is Minerva's thimble.
The child, who with a magnet plays,
Well knowing all its arts, so wily,
The tempter near a needle lays,
And laughing, says, "We'll steal it slily.' The needle, having naught to do,
Is pleased to let the magnet wheedle, Till closer, closer come the two,
And off, at length, elopes the needle.
Now, had this needle turned its eye
To some gay reticule's construction,
It ne'er had strayed from duty's tie,
Nor felt the magnet's sly seduction.
Thus, girls, would you keep quiet hearts,
Your snowy fingers must be nimble;
The safest shield against the darts
Of Cupid, is Minerva's thimble.
Thomas Moore, 1780 — 1852.
Epitaph in Croyland Abbey.
AN'S life is like unto a winter's day,-
Some break their fast and so depart away.
Others stay dinner, then depart full fed:
The longest age but sups and goes to bed.
O, reader, then behold and see,
As we are now, so thou must be !
¶ The Hare and Many Friends.
RIENDSHIP, like love, is but a name,
Unless to one you stint the flame.
The child whom many fathers share,
Hath seldom known a father's care.
'Tis thus in friendship: who depend
On many, rarely find a friend.
A Hare, who, in a civil way,
Complied with everything, like Gay,
Was known by all the bestial train
Who haunt the wood or graze the plain:
Her care was never to offend,
And every creature was her friend.
As forth she went at early dawn,
To taste the dew-besprinkled lawn,
Behind she hears the hunter's cries,
And from the deep-mouthed thunder flies.
She starts, she stops, she pants for breath;
She hears the near advance of death;
The Hare and Many Friends.
She doubles, to mislead the hound,
And measures back her mazy round;
Till, fainting in the public way,
Half dead with fear she gasping lay.
What transport in her bosom grew
When first the Horse appeared in view!
"Let me," says she, "your back ascend,
And owe my safety to a friend.
You know my feet betray my flight:
To friendship every burden's light."
The Horse replied, "Poor honest Puss,
It grieves my heart to see thee thus:
Be comforted; relief is near,
For all your friends are in the rear."
She next the stately Bull implored,
And thus replied the mighty lord:
"Since every beast alive can tell
That I sincerely wish you well,
I may without offense pretend
To take the freedom of a friend.
Love calls me hence; a favorite cow
Expects me near yon barley-mow;
And when a lady's in the case,
You know, all other things give place.
To leave you thus might seem unkind,
But, see, the Goat is just behind."
The Goat remarked her pulse was high,
Her languid head, her heavy eye:
"My back," says he, "may do you harm;
The Sheep's at hand, and wool is warm."
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