ON A BEE STIFLED IN HONEY.

From flow'r to flow'r, with eager pains,
See the blest busy lab'rer fly;

When all that from her toil she gains,

Is, in the sweets she hoards, to die.
'Tis thus, would man the truth believe,
With life's soft sweets, each fav'rite joy :
If we taste wisely, they relieve;

But if we plunge too deep, destroy.

ON THE MARRIAGE OF MR.

FREDERICK LAMB то

MISS MONK.

In times remote, when Heathens sway'd,
A sacrifice was often made,

Their deities to quiet;

And by the priest the lamb was led
Unto the altar, where he bled,

Without the smallest riot.

Mark, how revers'd the blissful scene!
No heathen rites now intervene,

To bid the timid faulter;

For lo! the Monk-how strange to say!
Is by the Lamb now led away,
Quite willing to the altar !!

ON INFLAMMATION IN A LADY'S EYE.

STELLA'S black eyes, of brightest hue,
Where'er they turn'd, admirers drew ;
Not powerful less than Cupid's darts,
Her every glance pierc'd lovers' hearts:

The only safety was to fly 'em,

For all were ruin'd who came nigh 'em.
Those whom her eyes had wretched made
At last applied to Jove for aid :

'O Jove, in mercy to mankind,

Make Stella, fatal charmer, blind !'

6

To make her blind,' said he, were hard,
But be her eyes of power debarr'd,
And let them feel in turn the fire,
With which they every breast inspire.'
But Cupid made no heart a prize,
Depriv'd of aid from Stella's eyes,
And pray'd to Jupiter once more,
Their former brightness to restore.

GEORGE III. AND THE LAWYERS.

Written on his Majesty's Present of unbound Journals of the House of Commons to the Four chief Societies of the Law.

OUR gracious King, blest be his generous mind,
T'oblige us all, in our own way inclin'd;
With unbound Journals all the lawyers greets,
Knowing their choicest pleasures lie in sheets.

WAR AND PEACE.

I HATE the trumpet's brazen noise,
Its loud thrill tones my peace destroys,
And rends my aching heart.

The rattling drum, the bugle's sound,
(These alike my feelings wound ;)

Dire incentives of the slaughtering art.

For fate has oft my footsteps led
Among the dying and the dead,

Strew'd in the bloody field;
There in promiscuous heaps to lie,
To thirst, to rave, to groan, to sigh!

No friend to bury, and no arm to shield !
Avaunt, ye scenes of murd'rous strife!
Give me the joys of social life,

Where round my cheerful hearth

I view, with heartfelt pleasure view,
Those sympathetic friends so true,

Who share my sorrows and enjoy my mirth.

UNDER AN HOUR-GLASS.

In a Grotto near the Water.

THIS babbling stream not uninstructive flows,
Nor idly loiters to its destin'd main :

Each flow'r it feeds, that on its margin grows,
And bids thee blush, whose days are spent in
vain.

Nor void of moral, tho' unheeded, glides

Time's current, stealing on with silent haste,
For lo! each falling sand his folly chides,
Who lets one precious moment run to waste.

THE MISER AND SPENDTHRIFT.

Spendthrift.

Relentless man! vile sordid wretch !
Thine arms are ever on the stretch,
Accumulating pelf:

No keen distress e'er touch'd thy heart,
Thou would'st not with one ducat part,
No-not to save thyself.

Hh

Miser.

Thou fool! my riches do no ill ;
They wait on no licentious will,
But harmless fill my purse ;
Whilst poverty, disease, and pain,
Soft Luxury's destructive train,
Prove thine to thee a curse.

EXTEMPORE ON LIFE.

LIFE's the emblem of a flower,
That buds and blossoms in an hour;
'Tis subject to the same decay,
For time and death sweep both away.

PERPETUAL MOTION.

The Charleston Courier says; "We yesterday' saw a hundred dollar bank bill of one of our city banks, upon the back of which were inscribed the lines which follow. We presume it had been presented as an offering at the shrine of Grecian liberty:"

Go from my willing purse! nor doze in peace,
Whilst thraldom is, or tyrants prowl on Greece;
Nor tarry till the world's from bondage free,
And equal rights deck every land and sea;
Then tell the nice, who ask thy donor's goal,
Thou wert emitted from a freeman's soul !

This brings to mind a poetical wish of an ancient author, in reference to the success of his work:

May this book continue in motion,

And its leaves every day lie unfurl'd, Till an ant to the dregs drinks the ocean, And a tortoise crawls over the world.

EPIGRAM ON EPIGRAMS.

The best of epigrams should be restrained,
As to be read, in running, and retained.

BOILEAU'S OPINION OF EPIGRAMS.

He used to say, that the best epigrams originated in conversation; and, of all his own, he gave the preference to the following:

Ci git ma femme, ah, qu'elle est bien !
Pour son repos, et pour le mien.

Translation.

Here lies my wife, and, heaven knows,
Not less for mine, than her repose

INSCRIPTION ON INSCRIPTIONS.

Ye who, on windows, thus prolong your shames,
And to such arrant nonsense sign your names,
The diamond quit, with me the pencil take,
So shall your shame but short duration make:
For lo, the housemaid comes, in dreadful pet,
With red right-hand, and with a dishclout wet;
Dashes out all, nor leaves a wreck to tell
Who 'twas that wrote so ill-and lov'd so well.

TRUE BEAUTY.

By Dr. Fordyce.

THE diamond's and the ruby's blaze
Dispute the palm with Beauty's queen :
Not Beauty's queen commands such praise,
Devoid of virtue if she's seen.