A Century of Parody and Imitation

by Unknown

Though their smell is like none of the sweetest, poor John.'

'My darling,' says Venus, 'away from you throw them,

They're a sort of fool's gold among mortals, 'tis true;

But we want them not here, though I think you might know them,

Since on earth they so often have bought and sold you.'

SONG BY MR. CYPRESS.

(BYRON)

There is a fever of the spirit,

The brand of Cain's unresting doom,

Which in the lone dark souls that bear it