So many empty horses round about,

That honesty should wear its bottoms out!
Besides, shall honesty be choked with thirst?
Were it my Lord Mayor's horse, I'd nim it first!
And, by the bye, my lad, no scrubby tit!
There is the best that ever wore a bit

Not far from hence.'-'I take ye,' quoth his friend,
'Is not yon stable, Tom, our journey's end?'—
Good wits will jump; both meant the very steed,
The top o' the country both for shape and breed.
So to't they went, and with a halter round

His feathered neck they nimmed him off the ground.

*

Twixt right and wrong how many gentle trimmers

Will neither steal nor filch, but will be plaguy Nimmers!

CARELESS CONTENT.

I am content, I do not care,

Wag as it will the world for me!
When fuss and fret was all my fare
It got no ground that I could see;
So when away my caring went
I counted cost and was content.

With more of thanks and less of thought
I strive to make my matters meet;
To seek what ancient sages sought,

Physic and food in sour and sweet;
To take what passes in good part
And keep the hiccups from the heart.

With good and gently-humoured hearts
I choose to chat where'er I come,
Whate'er the subject be that starts;
But if I get among the glum

I hold my tongue to tell the troth,
And keep my breath to cool my broth.

For chance or change of peace or pain,
For Fortune's favour or her frown,

For lack or glut, for loss or gain,

I never dodge nor up nor down,

But swing what way the ship shall swim,
Or tack about with equal trim.

I suit not where I shall not speed,
Nor trace the turn of every tide.
If simple sense will not succeed

I make no bustling, but abide.
For shining wealth or scaring woe
I force no friend, I fear no foe.

Of ups and downs, of ins and outs,
Of they 're-i'-th'-wrong and we're-i'-th'-right,
I shun the rancours and the routs ;
And, wishing well to every wight,
Whatever turn the matter takes,
I deem it all but ducks and drakes.

With whom I feast I do not fawn,
Nor if the folks should flout me, faint.

If wonted welcome be withdrawn

I cook no kind of a complaint.

With none disposed to disagree,
I like them best who best like me.

Not that I rate myself the rule

How all my betters should behave;
But fame shall find me no man's fool
Nor to a set of men a slave ;

I love a friendship free and frank,
But hate to hang upon a hank.

Fond of a true and trusty tie,
I never loose where'er I link,
Though if a business budges by

I talk thereon just as I think ;
My word, my work, my heart, my hand,
Still on a side together stand.

If names or notions make a noise,

Whatever hap the question hath The point impartially I poise,

And read and write, but without wrath For, should I burn or break my brains, Pray, who will pay me for my pains?

I love my neighbour as myself—
Myself like him too, by his leave!
Nor to his pleasure, power or pelf

Came I to crouch, as I conceive!
Dame Nature doubtless has designed
A man the monarch of his mind.

Now taste and try this temper, sirs,

Mood it and brood it in your breast;

Or, if ye ween for worldly stirs

That man does right to mar his rest, Let me be deft and debonair,

I am content, I do not care!

ON THE ORIGIN OF EVIL

Evil, if rightly understood,
Is but the skeleton of good
Divested of its flesh and blood.

While it remains, without divorce,
Within its hidden secret source,

It is the good's own strength and force.

As bone has the supporting share
In human form divinely fair,
Although an evil when laid bare;

As light and air are, fed by fire,
A shining good while all conspire,
But, separate, dark raging ire;

As hope and love arise from faith
Which then admits no ill, nor hath,
But, if alone, it would be wrath;

Or any instance thought upon
In which the evil can be none
Till unity of good is gone :-

So, by abuse of thought and skill,
The greatest good, to wit, Free Will,
Becomes the origin of ill.

Thus when rebellious angels fell,

The very Heaven where good ones dwell Became the apostate spirits' hell;

Seeking against eternal right

A force without a love and light
They found, and felt its evil might.

Thus Adam, biting at their bait
Of good and evil, when he ate
Died to his first thrice-happy state,

Fell to the evils of this ball
Which, in harmonious union all,
Were Paradise before his fall,

And, when the life of Christ in men
Revives its faded image, then

Will all be Paradise again.

EPIGRAMS.

In truths that nobody can miss
It is the quid that makes the quis ;
In such as lie more deeply hid

It is the quis that makes the quid.

God bless the King-I mean the faith's defender! God bless (no harm in blessing!) the Pretender! But who pretender is, or who is king

God bless us all!-that's quite another thing.