[EPIGRAM: FROM THE GREEK OF PLATO.]
Thou gazest on the stars, my Star,
And would I were the sky,
To view thy lovely face afar
With many a burning eye!
W. H. W.
[THE PRINTER.]
'The printer, in his folio, heraldeth the world. Now come tidings of weddings, maskings, mummeries, entertainments, jubilees, wars, fires, inundations, thefts, murders, massacres, meteors, comets, spectrums, prodigies, shipwrecks, piracies, sea-fights, law-suits, pleas, proclamations, embassies, trophies, triumphs, revels, sports, plays; then again, as in a new-shifted scene, treasons, cheating-tricks, robberies, enormous villanies in all kinds, funerals, burials, new discoveries, expeditions; now comical then tragical matters. To-day we hear of new offices created, to-morrow of great men deposed, and then again of fresh honors conferred; one is let loose, another prisoned; one purchaseth, another breaketh; he thrives, his neighbor turneth bankrupt; now plenty, then again dearth and famine; one runs, another rides, wrangles, laughs, weeps, and so forth. Thus do we daily hear such like, both public and private news.'
Old Borton.
He stood there alone at that shadowy hour,
By the swinging lamp dimly burning;
All silent within, save the ticking type,
All without, save the night-watch turning;
And heavily echoed the solemn sound,
As slowly he paced o'er the frozen ground.
And dark were the mansions so lately that shone,
With the joy of festivity gleaming,
And hearts that were beating in sympathy then,
Were now living it o'er in their dreaming;
Yet the Printer still worked at his lonely post,
As slowly he gathered his mighty host.