Willis.
Beauty lies
As naturally upon his cheek as bloom
Upon a peach. Like morning vapour, flies
Before his smile my mind’s infrequent gloom.
We tremble when we think that many a storm
May beat upon him in the time to come,—
That his now beautiful and fragile form
May bear a burden sore and wearisome.
Yet, so the stain of guiltiness and shame
Be never placed upon his soul and name,—
So he preserve his virtue though he die,—
And to his God, his race, his country prove
A faithful man, whom praise nor gold can buy,
Nor threats of vile, designing men can move,—
We ask no more.
Scarlet Geranium.... Stupidity.
There are many varieties of the Geranium, distinguished by the shape and hue of the flowers and leaves, and the difference in their fragrance. The Scarlet Geranium is a very beautiful flower, but its scent is disagreeable. The following anecdote will give the reason of its being chosen as the emblem of stupidity. Madame de Staël was always angry when any of her acquaintance attempted to introduce a stupid person into her company. One day, one of her friends ventured to bring to her a young Swiss officer of most prepossessing exterior. The lady, pleased with his appearance, was very lively, and said a thousand flattering things to the new-comer, who seemed at first to be struck mute by surprise and admiration. When, however, he had listened to her for above an hour without opening his lips, she began to suspect the cause of his silence, and put to him such direct questions that he could not help answering. His answers were extremely silly! Madame de Staël, vexed at having thrown away her time and her wit, turned to her friend and said: “Indeed, sir, you are like my gardener, who thought to do me a pleasure by bringing me this morning a pot of Geranium: but I can tell you that I made him take back the flower, desiring him not to let me see it any more.” “And why so?” asked the young man in astonishment. “It was, since you wish to know, because the Geranium is a beautiful scarlet flower; while you look at it, it pleases the eye; but when you press it ever so slightly, it gives out a disagreeable smell.” So saying, Madame de Staël rose and went out of the room, leaving the young fool abashed and in confusion.
This fellow is wise enough to play the fool;
And to do that well, craves a kind of wit.
Shakspeare.
Your blunderer is as sturdy as a rock,
The creature is so sure to kick and bite,
A muleteer’s the man to set him right.
First appetite enlists him truth’s sworn foe,
Then obstinate self-will confirms him so.
Tell him he wanders; that his error leads
To fatal ill; that though the path he treads
Be flowery, and he see no cause of fear,
Death and the pains of hell attend him there.
In vain the slave of arrogance and pride,
He has no hearing on the prudent side.
His still refuted quirks he still repeats;
New raised objections with new quibbles meets;
Till sinking in the quicksand he defends,
He dies disputing, and the contest ends.
Cowper.
A set o’ dull conceited hashes,
Confuse their brains in college classes!
They gang in stirks, and come out asses,
Plain truth to speak;
An’ syne they think to climb Parnassus
By dint o’ Greek.
Gie me a spark o’ Nature’s fire,
That’s a’ the learning I desire;
Then tho’ I drudge thro’ dub an’ mire
At pleugh or cart,
My muse, tho’ hamely in attire,
May touch the heart.