Why should this worthless tegument endure, In living virtue, that, when both must sever, THE NEWCASTLE APOTHECARY. BY GEORGE COLMAN. A man in many a country town, we know, Yet some affirm, no enemies they are, Though the apothecary fights with Death, Still they are sworn friends to one another. A member of this Esculapian line Or make a bill; Or mix a draught, or bleed, or blister; Or chatter scandal by your bed, Or [spread a plaster.] His fame full six miles round the country ran; All the old women called him "a fine man ;"- Benjamin Bolus, though in trade (Which oftentimes will genius fetter), Read works of fancy, it is said, And cultivated the belles lettres. And why should this be thought so odd? Can't men have taste who cure a phthisic? Of poetry, though patron god, Apollo patronizes physic. Bolus loved Verse, and took so much delight in't, That his prescriptions he resolved to write in't. Of writing the directions on his labels Apothecary's verse! and where's the treason? He had a patient lying at death's door, Some three miles from the town, it might be four; And, on the label of the stuff, He wrote this verse, Which one would think was clear enough "When taken, To be well shaken." Next morning early, Bolus rose, Who a vile trick of stumbling had : For what's expected from a horse Bolus arrived, and gave a doubtful tap, The servant lets him in with dismal face, Portending some disaster; And not his master. "Well, how's the patient ?" Bolus said: John shook his head. "Indeed!-hum! ha!-that's very odd! He took the draught?" John gave a nod. "Well, how? what then? speak out you dunce !" Why then," says John, we shook him once." "Shook him!-how ?" Bolus stammered out. 66 "We jolted him about." 516 LINES WRITTEN IN RICHMOND CHURCHYARD. "Zounds! shake a patient, man!—a shake won't do." "Two shakes! od's curse! "Twould make the patient worse." "It did so, Sir, and so a third we tried." "Well, and what then?" "Then, Sir, my master died." LINES WRITTEN IN RICHMOND CHURCHYARD, BY HERBERT KNOWLES. "It is good for us to be here: if thou wilt, let us make here three tabernacles; one for thee, and one for Moses, and one for Elias.-Matt. xvii. 4. Methinks it is good to be here; If thou wilt, let us build-but for whom? But the shadows of eve that encompass the gloom, Shall we build to Ambition? oh, no! Affrighted, he shrinketh away; For, see! they would pin him below, In a small narrow cave, and, begirt with cold clay, To Beauty? ah, no !-she forgets Nor knows the foul worm that he frets Shall we build to the purple of Pride- Alas! they are all laid aside; And here's neither dress nor adornment allow'd, To Riches? alas! 'tis in vain ; And here in the grave are all metals forbid, To the pleasures which Mirth can afford- Ah! here is a plentiful board! But the guests are all mute as their pitiful cheer, Shall we build to Affection and Love? Ah, no! they have wither'd and died, Or fled with the spirit above; Friends, brothers, and sisters, are laid side by side, Unto Sorrow?-The dead cannot grieve; Which compassion itself could relieve! Ah! sweetly they slumber, nor hope, love, nor fearPeace, peace is the watchword, the only one here! Unto Death, to whom monarchs must bow? Ah, no! for his empire is known, And here there are trophies enow! Beneath the cold dead, and around-the dark stone, Are the signs of a sceptre that none may disown! The first tabernacle to Hope we will build, And look for the sleepers around us to rise; The second to Faith, which ensures it fulfilled; And the third to the Lamb of the great sacrifice, Who bequeath'd us them both when he rose to the skies HOW-D'YE-DO AND GOOD-BYE. BY THE HON WILLIAM SPENCER. One day Good-bye met How-d'ye-do, Too close to shun saluting; But soon the rival sisters flew "Away," says How-d'ye-do, "your mien In sorrow's nomenclature. "Where'er I give one sunshine hour, Your cloud comes in to shade it; Where'er I plant one bosom flower, "Ere How-d'ye-do has tuned each tongue "From sorrows past, my chemic skill Good-bye replied, "Your statement's true, "Without my prior influence Could yours have ever flourished? And can your hand one flower dispense, But those my tears have nourished? "How oft,-if at the court of love "How oft when Cupid's fires decline,― "Go, bid the timid lover choose, If he, for ten kind How-d'ye-do's, "From Love and Friendship's kindred source We both derive existence; And they would both lose half their force ""Tis well the world our merit knows, Since time, there's no denying, One half in How-d'ye-doing goes, And t'other in Good-byeing." |