Lift not thy spear against the Muses' bower;
The great Emathian conqueror* bid spare
The house of Pindarus, when temple and tower
Went to the ground; and the repeated air

Of sad Electra's poet† had the power
To save the Athenian walls from ruin bare.

ON HIS BLINDNESS.

When I consider how my light is spent,

Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide, Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest He, returning, chide; "Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?” I fondly ask but Patience, to prevent

That murmur, soon replies :-"God doth not need Either man's work, or his own gifts; Who best

Bear his mild yoke, they serve Him best.

state

Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed, And post o'er land and ocean without rest;

They also serve who only stand and wait."

His

* Alexander the Great, when 90,000 Thebans were killed and 30,000 taken prisoners.

+ Euripides, when some of his verses happened to be sung at a banquet given to a council of war, during the conquest of Athens by Lysander.

PSALM CXXXVI.

Let us, with a gladsome mind,
Praise the Lord, for he is kind;
For his mercies aye endure,
Ever faithful, ever sure.

Who, by his wisdom, did create
The painted Heavens so full of state;
Who did the solid Earth ordain
To rise above the watery plain;
Who, by his all-commanding might,
Did fill the new-made world with light;
And caused the golden-tress-ed Sun
All the day long his course to run;
The horn-ed Moon to shine by night
Amongst her spangled sisters bright.

All living creatures he doth feed,
And with full hand supplies their need.
Let us therefore warble forth
His mighty majesty and worth,
That his mansion hath on high,
Above the reach of mortal eye.
For his mercies aye endure,
Ever faithful, ever sure.

HORACE. Sat. i., 10, 14.

--Joking decides great things

Stronglier and better, oft, than earnest can.

SAMUEL BUTLER.

From HUDIBRAS,

Part I. Canto I.

When civil dudgeon first grew high,
And men fell out, they knew not why;
When hard words, jealousies, and fears,
Set folks together by the ears.
When gospel-trumpeter, surrounded
With long-eared rout, to battle sounded;
And pulpit, drum ecclesiastic,

Was beat with fist instead of a stick;
Then did Sir Knight abandon dwelling,
And out he rode a-colonelling.

A wight he was, whose very sight would
Entitle him, Mirror of Knighthood,
That never bowed his stubborn knee
To anything but chivalry,

Nor put up blow, but that which laid
Right worshipful on shoulder-blade.
Chief of domestic knights and errant,
Either for challenge or for warrant;
Great on the bench, great in the saddle..
But here our authors make a doubt
Whether he were more wise or stout.
Some hold the one, and some the other..
For it has been held by many, that
As Montaigne, playing with his cat,
Complains she thought him but an ass,
Much more she would Sir Hudibras.
We grant, although he had much wit,
He was very shy of using it, . . .
Unless on holy days, or so

As men their best apparel do.
Beside, 'tis known he could speak Greek

As naturally as pigs squeak;