“This thrice precious one
Smiled to my eyes—drew being from my breast—
Slept in my arms;—the very tears I shed
Above my treasures were to men and angels
Alike such holy sweetness!”
In the name of all the angels that ever you invoked—Raphael, Gabriel, Uriel, Zadkiel, Azrael—what does this “holy sweetness” mean? We're not spinxes to read such durk conandrums. If you knew my state sins I came upon this passidg—I've neither slep nor eton; I've neglected my pantry; I've been wandring from house to house with this riddl in my hand, and nobody can understand it. All Mr. Frazier's men are wild, looking gloomy at one another, and asking what this may be. All the cumtributors have been spoak to. The Doctor, who knows every languitch, has tried and giv'n up; we've sent to Docteur Pettigruel, who reads horyglifics a deal ezier than my way of spellin'—no anser. Quick! quick with a fifth edition, honored Barnet, and set us at rest! While your about it, please, too, to igsplain the two last lines:—
“His merry bark with England's flag to crown her.”
See what dellexy of igspreshn, “a flag to crown her!”
“His merry bark with England's flag to crown her,
Fame for my hopes, and woman in my cares.”
Likewise the following:—
“Girl, beware,
THE LOVE THAT TRIFLES ROUND THE CHARMS IT GILDS
OFT RUINS WHILE IT SHINES.”
Igsplane this, men and angels! I've tried every way; backards, forards, and in all sorts of trancepositions, as thus:—
The love that ruins round the charms it shines,
Gilds while it trifles oft;
Or,