| On a set day, fell Death, queen of the world,— In hell assembled all her fearful court That 'mongst them she might choose a minister Would render her estate more flourishing. As candidates for the dread office came, With measured strides, from Tartarus' lowest depth, Fever, and Gout, and War—a trio To whose gifts all earth and hell bare witness— The queen reception gave them. Then came Plague, And none his claims and merit might deny. Still, when a doctor paid his visit, too, Opinion wavered which would win the day. Nor could Queen Death herself at once decide. But when the Vices came her choice fell quick— She chose Excess. —Florian. |
[THE HOUSE OF CARDS.]
| How softly glide Philemon's happy days Within the cot where once his father dwelt Peaceful as he! Here with his gentle wife and sturdy boys, In rural quietude, he tills his farm; Gathers his harvest, or his garden tends. Here sweet domestic joys together shared Crown every evening, whether 'neath the trees The smiling summer draws the table forth: Or round the cosy hearth the winter cold With crackling faggot blazing makes their cheer. Here do the careful parents ever give Counsels of virtuous knowledge to their sons. The father with a story points his speech, The mother with a kiss. Of different tastes, the boys: the elder one, Grave, studious, reads and thinks the livelong day; The younger, sprightly, gay, and graceful, too, Leaps, laughs incessant, and in games delights. One evening, as their wont, at father's side, And near a table where their mother sewed, The elder Rollin read. The younger played: Small care had he for Rome's ambitious deeds, Or Parthian prowess; his whole mind was set To build a house of cards, his wit sharp-drawn To fit the corners neatly. He, nor speaks, Nor scarce may breathe, so great his anxious care. But suddenly the reader's voice is heard Self-interrupting: "Papa, pray tell me why Some warriors are called Conquerors, and some The Founders, of an Empire? What doth make The points of difference in the simple terms?" [!-- Begin Page 153 --] In careful thought the father sought reply: When, radiant with delight, his younger son, After so much endeavour, having placed His second stage, cries out, "Tis done!" But he, The elder, harshly chides his brother's glee, Strikes the frail tenement, and so destroys The fruits of patient toil: The younger weeps: And then the father thus: "Oh, my dear son, Thy brother is the Founder of a realm, Thou the fell Conqueror." —Florian. |
[THE BULLFINCH AND THE RAVEN.]
| In separate cages hung, the same kind roof Sheltered a bullfinch and a raven bold, The one with song mellifluous charmed the house; The other's cries incessant wearied all. With loud hoarse voice he screamed for bread and meat And cheese; the which they quickly brought, in hope To stop thereby his brawling tongue. The finch Did nought but sing, and never bawled and begged; So they forgot him. Oft the pretty bird Nor food nor water had, and they who praised His song the loudest took the smallest care To fill his fount. And yet they loved him well, But thought not on his needs. One day they found him dead within his cage, "Ah, horror! and he sang so well!" they cry, "What can it be he died of? 'Tis, indeed A dreadful pity." The raven still screamed on, and nothing lacked. —Florian. |