25. And there came great mourning upon Israel, in every place where they were;
26. And the rulers and elders groaned, the virgins and young men were made feeble, and the beauty of the women
27. Was changed. Every bridegroom took up lamentation, she that sat in the marriage chamber was in heaviness.
28. And the land was moved for the inhabitants thereof, and all the house of Jacob was clothed with shame.

8. Her temple is become as a man that was glori-
9. Ous: her vessels of glory are carried away into captivity, her infants are slain in her streets, her young men
10. With the sword of the enemy. What nation hath not inherited her palaces, and gotten possession of her spoils?
11. Her adorning is all taken away; instead of a free woman she is become
12. A bond woman: and, behold, our holy things and our beauty and our glory are laid waste, and the Gentiles have
13. Profaned them. Wherefore should we live any longer?

While you, great Patron of Mankind! sustain
The balanc'd World, and open all the Main;
Your country, chief, in Arms abroad defend,
At home, with Morals, Arts, and Laws amend;
How shall the Muse, from such a Monarch, steal
An hour, and not defraud the Public Weal?
Edward and Henry, now the Boast of Fame,
And virtuous Alfred, a more sacred Name,
After a Life of gen'rous Toils endur'd,
The Gaul subdu'd, or Property secur'd,
Ambition humbled, mighty Cities storm'd,
Or Laws establish'd, and the world reform'd;

TO Lord B OLINGBROKE

S T . J OHN , whose love indulg'd my labours past,
Matures my present, and shall bound my last!
Why will you break the Sabbath of my days?
Now sick alike of Envy and of Praise.
Public too long, ah let me hide my Age!
See modest Cibber now has left the Stage:
Our Gen'rals now, retir'd to their Estates,
Hang their old Trophies o'er the Garden gates,
In Life's cool ev'ning satiate of applause,
Nor fond of bleeding, ev'n in B RUNSWICK'S cause.

35. But some man will say, How are the dead raised up? and with what body do they come?
36. Thou fool, that which thou sowest is not quickened, except it die:
37. And that which thou sowest, thou sowest not that body that shall be, but bare grain, it may chance of wheat, or of some other grain:
38. But God giveth it a body as it hath pleased him, and to every seed his own body.
39. All flesh is not the same flesh: but there is one kind of flesh of men, another flesh of beasts, another of fishes, and another of birds.

Have you heard of one Humpty Dumpty
How he fell with a roll and a rumble
And curled up like Lord Olofa Crumple
By the butt of the Magazine Wall,
(Chorus) Of the Magazine Wall,
Hump, helmet and all?

He was one time our King of the Castle
Now he's kicked about like a rotten old parsnip.
And from Green Street he'll be sent by order of His Worship
To the penal jail of Mountjoy
(Chorus) To the jail of Mountjoy!
Jail him and joy.

TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCE.

Once more, great Prince! permit an humble bard
Prostrate to pay his homage at your feet,
Then, like the morning lark from the low ground
Towering aloft, sublime, to soar and sing,
Sing the heart-cheering pleasure of the fields,
The choice delight of heroes and of kings.
In earlier times monarchs of Eastern race,
In their full blaze of pride, as story tells,
Train'd up the' imperial eagle, sacred bird!
Hooded, with jingling bells she perch'd on high;

FROM HUGO'S " FEUILLES D'AUTOMNE"

I LOVE the evenings, passionless and fair, I love the evens,
Whether old manor-fronts their ray with golden fulgence leavens,
In numerous leafage bosomed close;
Whether the mist in reefs of fire extend its reaches sheer,
Or a hundred sunbeams splinter in an azure atmosphere
On cloudy archipelagos.

Oh gaze ye on the firmament! a hundred clouds in motion,
Up-piled in the immense sublime beneath the winds' commotion,
Their unimagined shapes accord:

FROM HUGO'S " FEUILLES D'AUTOMNE"

Have you sometimes, calm, silent, let your tread aspirant rise
Up to the mountain's summit, in the presence of the skies?
Was't on the borders of the South? or on the Bretagne coast?
And at the basis of the mount had you the Ocean tossed?
And there, leaned o'er the wave and o'er the immeasurableness,
Calm, silent, have you hearkened what it says? Lo, what it says!
One day at least, whereon my thought, enlicensed to muse,
Had drooped its wing above the beached margent of the ooze,

Damon.

In vain you talk of shady bowers
When frosts, my fair one, chill the plain
And nights are cold, and long the hours
That damp the ardour of the swain,
Who, parting from his social fire,
All comfort doth forego,
And here and there, and every where,
Pursues the invading foe.

But we must sleep on frosts and snows,
No season hinders our campaign,
Hard as the oaks, we dare oppose
The autumnal or the wint'ry reign:
Alike to us the winds that blow
In summer's season gay,
Or those that rave on Hudson's cave,