My treasure had dozens of nephews and cousins,
And one I must get or my heart it will break;
To keep my mind easy, or else I’ll run crazy—
This ends the whole song of my beautiful drake.
Anonymous.
ELEGY ON HIMSELF.
Sweet upland! where, like hermit old, in peace sojourned
This priest devout;
Mark where beneath thy verdant sod lie deep inurned
The bones of Prout!