How smooth these 'kerchiefs and how sweet! Oh what a delicate retreat! I will resign myself to rest, Till Sol declining in the west Shall call to supper, when, no doubt, The evening came, the sun descended, (With her indeed 'twas never day), And puss came into mind no more With hunger pinch'd, and pinch'd for room, Conscious of jeopardy incurr'd. That night, by chance, the poet watching, Heard an inexplicable scratching; And to himself he said- What's that?' And forth he peep'd, but nothing spied; Saluting his poetic ears, Consoled him, and dispell'd his fears; For 'tis a truth well known to most, MORAL. Beware of too sublime a sense Of your own worth and consequence. THE LOVE OF THE WORLD REPROVED; OR, HYPOCRISY DETECTED. THUS says the prophet of the Turk, He meant not to forbid the head; And piously prefer the tail. Thus, conscience freed from every clog, You laugh-'tis well-The tale applied While one as innocent regards A snug and friendly game at cards; Some love a concert, or a race; And others shooting and the chace. With sophistry their sauce they sweeten,. MUTUAL FORBEARANCE NECESSARY TO THE HAPPINESS OF THE MARRIED STATE. THE lady thus address'd her spouse- (And raised her voice, and frown'd beside,) |