LXVI.—VERSES WRITTEN ON A WINDOW IN THE HIGHLANDS OF SCOTLAND.
Scotland! thy weather's like a modish wife,
Thy winds and rains for ever are at strife;
So termagant awhile her thunder tries,
And when she can no longer scold, she cries.
LXVII.—THREE TOUCHSTONES.
An ancient sage uttered the following apothegm:—"The goodness of gold is tried by fire, the goodness of women by gold, and the goodness of men by the ordeal of women."
LXVIII.—A DIALOGUE.
Pope.
Since my old friend is grown so great,
As to be minister of state,
I'm told (but 'tis not true I hope)
That Craggs will be ashamed of Pope.
Craggs.
Alas! if I am such a creature,
To grow the worse for growing greater,
Why, faith, in spite of all my brags,
'Tis Pope must be ashamed of Craggs.