I.
"Incense is hut a tribute for the gods,--To mortals 'tis but poison."
THE smoke that from thine altar blows,Can it the gods offend?
For I observe thou hold'st thy nose--
Pray what does this portend?
Mankind deem incense to excelEach other earthly thing, So he that cannot bear its smell,No incense e'er should bring.
With unmoved face by thee at leastTo dolls is homage given;If not obstructed by the priest,The scent mounts up to heaven.
1827.*
II
CONFLICT OF WIT AND BEAUTY.
SIR Wit, who is so much esteem'd, And who is worthy of all honour, Saw Beauty his superior deem'dBy folks who loved to gaze upon her;At this he was most sorely vex'd.
Then came Sir Breath (long known as fitTo represent the cause of wit),Beginning, rudely, I admit, To treat the lady with a text.
To this she hearken'd not at all, But hasten'd to his principal:
"None are so wise, they say, as you,--
Is not the world enough for two?
If you are obstinate, good-bye!
If wise, to love me you will try, For be assured the world can ne'er Give birth to a more handsome pair."1827.*
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FAIR daughters were by Beauty rear'd,Wit had but dull sons for his lot;So for a season it appear'dBeauty was constant, Wit was not.
But Wit's a native of the soil,So he return'd, work'd, strove amain, And found--sweet guerdon for his toil!--Beauty to quicken him again.
1827.*
III.
RAIN AND RAINBOW.
DURING a heavy storm it chanced That from his room a cockney glanced At the fierce tempest as it broke, While to his neighbour thus he spoke:
"The thunder has our awe inspired, Our barns by lightning have been fired,--Our sins to punish, I suppose;
But in return, to soothe our woes, See how the rain in torrents fell, Making the harvest promise well!
But is't a rainbow that I spy Extending o'er the dark-grey sky?
With it I'm sure we may dispense, The colour'd cheat! The vain pretence!"Dame Iris straightway thus replied:
"Dost dare my beauty to deride?
In realms of space God station'd me A type of better worlds to be To eyes that from life's sorrows rove In cheerful hope to Heav'n above, And, through the mists that hover here God and his precepts blest revere.
Do thou, then, grovel like the swine, And to the ground thy snout confine, But suffer the enlighten'd eye To feast upon my majesty."1827.*
VALEDICTION.
I ONCE was fond of fools,And bid them come each day;Then each one brought his toolsThe carpenter to play;The roof to strip first choosing,Another to supply, The wood as trestles using,To move it by-and-by, While here and there they ran,And knock'd against each other;To fret I soon began,My anger could not smother, So cried, "Get out, ye fools!"At this they were offended Then each one took his tools,And so our friendship ended.
Since that, I've wiser been,And sit beside my door;When one of them is seen,I cry, "Appear no more!""Hence, stupid knave!" I bellow:
At this he's angry too:
"You impudent old fellow!
And pray, sir, who are you?
Along the streets we riot,And revel at the fair;But yet we're pretty quiet,And folks revile us ne'er.
Don't call us names, then, please!"--
At length I meet with ease,For now they leave my door--'Tis better than before!
1827.*
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