« السابقةمتابعة »
You had not intended to utter one word,
style; It is far from your purpose to make a long speech, You must scrape on your fiddle, although it should
screech. Yes, promise the House, you will be very brief, Just tell 'em so, man,-it will be a relief Protest that in all which you now mean to say, You mean to be govern’d by strict cour-te-sy; No member must think it-oh never-no, no, That you mean to be cruel, and tread on his toe ; 'Tis not your intention to break through the rules, Nor hint that all men but yourself are turn’d fools; Each man has a right to maintain his opinion, Long as Freedom shall reign in this Ancient Dominion ; You mean not to breathe à suspicion—'od's life!! No doubt they are chaste as was Cæsar*_his wife. Having taken this dazzling and beautiful flight, Your exordium is free, sir, from ev'ry thing trite. Go on now, with all that you do not intend, And this is a subject almost without end. Be sure, notwithstanding, in doing the same, That you say ev'ry thing you pretend to disclaim; Then mention the field which you mean to explore, Though you never should think of your promises more. Go back to the days of old Adam and Eve, With the world in a sling, you may laugh in your sleeve;
* The nature of this compliment seems somewhat equivocal, Cæsar himself being the greatest gallant in all Rome. -Vide Plutarch in vit. Cæs.
Fight over the “duel" of Cain and of Abel,*
shut like the eyes of poor Homer; The great Trojan horse will be excellent now, With "a wreath of abstractions” encircling “his brow;" “Virginia must ride him”—some fellows rakehelly Must jump with stilettoes & all sharp from his belly;" Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes Will come in so pat—the quotation quite spent is; But do not omit it on any account, sirLet Pegasus blow now—and then I'll remount, sir. So, Pegasus-now for a different gait, You've jolted me on at a terrible rateSir!-glance at the tale of the Golden Fleece, And give 'em the whole of Gillies' his Greece.
* In the debate on the duelling question, a distinguished orator contended that the first duel upon record was that between Cain and Abel.
+ And Zillah, she also bare Tubal-cain, an instructor of every artificer in brass —Genesis.
| Now an Omer is the tenth part of an Ephah.–10 chap. Ecodus, v. 36.
§ According to the best commentators upon the Niad, stilettoes were hardly in use at the siege of Troy, but the word must stand -it is so in the roll.-See Debate on Convention.
The customs of Sparta, proceed to discuss,
* Nigrum jus, I address myself to the unlearned, was neither more nor less than Black Broth, a Spartan drink which the loudest advocate for reform would scarcely be prevailed upon to substitute for brandy, although we are now in a state of nature as they contend, and are referred to Sparta as the model of our new constitution.
+ He tan epi tan. The glorious declaration of the Spartan ladies, which I will leave the beaux to translate to ours.
| This exclamation seems quite natural when we behold the many transformations from age to youth by this most ingenious contrivance-qui capit ille facit, not the wig.
A King cut a grindstone in two with a razor,
an Augur, who stood by a gazer ;
* See debate on Convention, passim.
+ This line is founded on fact-a Frenchman, many years ago, offered to prove it by Algebra.
Dyspepsia ! horrid fiend, away!
Where'er I go—wherever fly,
I meet that dim and sunken eye. That pallid and cadav'rous hue, Those bloodless lips, so coldly blue,
Thy tott'ring gait, and falt'ring breath
Proclaim thee, messenger of death. Behold thy work—my languid frame Its vigor wasted, blood grown tame,
Afraid of what, it cannot tell,
Is held in thy demoniac spell ; Dark shadows round, thou seem'st to fling; “My ears with hollow murni urs ring;"
My head grows giddy-eyesight dim,
My senses seem to reel and swim. At night I start from hideous dream; My pillow fly, with stifled scream;
I dare not sleep-at early morn
I hear the huntsman's echoing horn ; My burthened heart one instant bounds To spring to horse, and cheer the hounds
Alas! no more for me the chase!
Myself pursued, I fly thy face.
I am not gladden'd by the sun
His course is glorious, mine is run. For me the flowers all vainly bloom, They seem but things which strew the tomb
All things that others seek, I shun
The earth a blank—the world undone.
Bethesda's waters! where are they?