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Like a cold frost that nips the tender bud,■
No more thine eyes with liquid lustre shine,
THE LAUGHING WORLD.
Before either the chirping, or the classical reader peruses the following, let him run to his bookcase and turn to that far famed ode of Gray entitled The Fatal Sisters. We think this Parody for a mere magazine effusion is something more than tolerable. It is very melodious and poetical. The allusions to the London fire offices will not be unintelligible here, for Philadelphia has her Phoenix. Our readers may rest assured that it is much pleasanter, as well as wiser to smile at such merriment as the following than to frown at the dulnessof our neighbours, the dulness of the times, orthcdulness of the day. Editor.
THE FIRE OFFICES, A PARODY. Now in robe of bombazeen
Sable Night enshrouds the air,
Rattle throug.h the darkened square.
Where the million lately trod
Hark! an echoing scream I hear,
In a hack, that carries four,
Pelican, embowell'd maid,
Followers of the insurance trade,
Ere the shades of night retire Wheels shall rattle, engines shake, Streets and lanes reecho fjire,"
Vulcan, fir'd with deadly hate,
Now the engines ranged complete,
Bid the pagan god retire; Phoenix, pride of Cockspur street,
With thy pinions shroud the fire.
We the pipes to Fortune give,
Tides, which late the plugs confin'd
Low in sleep see Holla lie,
Wake! to Covent Garden hie,
Long its loss shall London rue,
Ne'er again its likeness view,
O'er the choak'd piazza wide
Firemen, point the irriguous tide,
Sisters! each inspect her book,
Wo to those who premiums took,
Mortals who remain in doubt,
And if your policies be out
Hence! to guard your household store,
Each produce the unwilling ore,
THE SENTENTIOUS WOHLD
The other day while examining the contents of an old pocket book I came across the following communication. It appears to be made up of selections from various authors; the greater part of the sentences however, seem to be taken from the Spectator. If, under these circumstances, you think the paper entitled to a place, in the sententious department of your Port Folio, you will oblige, by inserting it, your obedient servant
Just praise is a debt, but flattery is a present.
The hours of a wise man are lengthened by his ideas; those of a fool by his passions.
Never praise yourself with compliments which may be applied to others with more advantage.
When you fall into a man's conversation, the first thing you should consider is, whether he has a greater inclination to hear you, than that you should hear him.
No man heartily hates him at whom he can laugh. •
Light sorrows speak—great grief is dumb. Never use unnecessary proofs in an indisputable point. Better one thorn pulled out, than all remain.
He who is a troublesome companion to himself, will never be an agreeable one to others.
A man should never be too much addicted to any one thing. Express your sentiments with brevity.*
A man's first care should be to avoid the reproach of his own heart—his next to escape the censure of the world.
If a great deal of knowledge is not capable of making a man wise, it has a natural tendency to make him vain and arrogant.
Every person should obtain, if possible, a disposition to be pleased.
An ingenious mechanic, who employs his time in constructing puppet shows, is like Swift making riddles.
If I am to suffer I would rather it should be from the paw of a lion, than the hoof of an ass.
Hypocrites are of two kinds—the modish or fashionable, and the vulgar or common. The first endeavours to appear more vitious than he really is; the other wishes to seem more virtuous.
An author should take all methods to humble himself in the opinion he has of his own performances.
It is a certain sign of an ill heart, to be inclined to defamation.
• Indeed, Mr. Oldschool, I am so much in favour of this maxim, that I think with the celebrated Butler that
"Brevity is very good
"When w'are, or are not understood."
We seldom find
Much sense with an exalted fortune joined. As the world leads we follow.
There is nothing that we receive with so much reluctance as advice. It is a difficult matter to praise mait men without putting them out of countenance.
Some of Mr. Wordsworth's earlier effusions of poetical genius were certainly not unworthy of the muse. But, of late, he has extended so far his theory of simplicity in writing, that it degenerates into burlesque and puerility. Some wag thus scoffs at the poet.
SIMPLICITY, IN IMITATION• OF MR. WORDSWORTH.
Simplicity is a characteristic of the highest species of poetry. Now no one has carried the simple so far as Mr. Wordsworth, and as I hold it good sense to imitate perfection, I have taken him for my model. The piece in which these lines occur has given most uneasiness to my Ambition:
Violets, do what they will
Withered on the ground must lie:
Daisies they must live and die:
Vol. II, p. 116.
I fear much lest some little meaning which may have crept into my verses, through the want of habit, should prove destructive of that exquisite simplicity at which I aim. But what scholar is not inferior to the master? what copv falls not short of the original!
Fair women win the hearts of men,
Men, the hearts of women too;
What then can the poor things do!