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FROM THE PERSIAN.
MINSTREL with a voice divine,
Sing a new and lively air: Call for heart-expanding wine,
Ever fresh and ever fair.
Would'st thou taste a lover's bliss,
With thy mistress here retreat, Snatch the oft-repeated kiss,
Ever new, and ever sweet.
Can'st thou live, and never prove
What the joys of drinking are; Drink to her, the girl I love,
Ever kind and ever fair.
Thy dear charms distract my soul,
Maiden with the silver feet, Fill again the sparkling bowl,
Ever new and ever sweet.
By her tasteful hands design'd,
My dear angel can prepare Ornaments of every kind,
Ever fresh and ever fair.
Gentle Zephyr, as you stray,
With that fairy should you meet;
THE DEVIL FISHING.
“ All the world's a”-fish pond.
What luck, old Clovenfoot to-day?
Said I one foggy morning,
Poor mortal folk suborning
“Not much," quoth he, but what I have,
Beyond dispute, is fair gain; With notes to shave, l’ve caught a knave,
A miser with a bargain.
To catch a needy beau, I took
A draggle-tail'd surtout
A tempting full dress suit.
I caught a Congressman, by dint
Of double compensation;
By timely nomination.
These lawyers, are, though oft you wish
(No thanks fort) Satan had 'em, The most unprofitable fish
Of all the sons of Adam.
I caught a Surgeon with a high
Fed subject for dissection; An office hunter with a lie,
Well seasoned for election.
“What fish bite sharpest, Pug?" says I
u Why, as to that," quoth he, " I find not many very shy,
Of high or low degree.
“ Your toper bites well at a cork,
(When there's a bottle to it) Your Jew will even bite at pork,
If he smell money through it.
Your old man likes a parchment, when
By mortgage some one's bitten; Your youngster likes a fresher skin,
Where yet there's nothing written!
Some shy ones play about the line,
Till prudence waxes feeble, And those at least are often mine,
Who only want to nibble!
There's few indeed of small or great,
(Or I am much mistaken) But may, by some peculiar bait,
Be tempted, and then taken.
But there is one of all the rest,
Who most employs my cookThe IDLER pleases me the best, He bites the NAKED HOOK!
I will not say thy lip so sweet,
Like morning's crimson blossom glows, When Zephyr borne on pinion fleet,
Wakes from her dewy sleep the Rose.
I will not say thy blue eyes seem
The glances of the timid dove, When, wakened by the vernal beam,
Her paramour invites to love.
I will not say, thy breast so fair,
Where rapture might delight to rest, Is like yon white-wing'd cloud of air,
Yet by no mortal form imprest.
No! while I gaze on all thy charms,
And catch sweet madness from thine eye, My breast shall beat with wild alarms,
And all my language be a sigh.
And oft shall fancy think the while,
In love's despairing wild excess,