Moral Emblems | Page 2

distance
Joys to observe his bold resistance.
Poem: V
Mark, printed on the opposing page,
The unfortunate effects of rage.

A man (who might be you or me)
Hurls another into the sea.

Poor soul, his unreflecting act
His future joys will much contract,

And he will spoil his evening toddy
By dwelling on that mangled
body.
MORAL EMBLEMS II
Poem: I
With storms a-weather, rocks a-lee,
The dancing skiff puts forth to
sea.
The lone dissenter in the blast
Recoils before the sight aghast.

But she, although the heavens be black,
Holds on upon the
starboard tack,
For why? although to-day she sink,
Still safe she
sails in printer's ink,
And though to-day the seamen drown,
My cut
shall hand their memory down.
Poem: II
The careful angler chose his nook
At morning by the lilied brook,

And all the noon his rod he plied
By that romantic riverside.
Soon
as the evening hours decline
Tranquilly he'll return to dine,
And,
breathing forth a pious wish,
Will cram his belly full of fish.

Poem: III
The Abbot for a walk went out,
A wealthy cleric, very stout,
And
Robin has that Abbot stuck
As the red hunter spears the buck.
The
djavel or the javelin
Has, you observe, gone bravely in,
And you
may hear that weapon whack
Bang through the middle of his back.

HENCE WE MAY LEARN THAT ABBOTS SHOULD
NEVER
GO WALKING IN A WOOD.
Poem: IV
The frozen peaks he once explored,
But now he's dead and by the
board.
How better far at home to have stayed
Attended by the
parlour maid,
And warmed his knees before the fire
Until the hour
when folks retire!
SO, IF YOU WOULD BE SPARED TO
FRIENDS,
DO NOTHING BUT FOR BUSINESS ENDS.
Poem: V
Industrious pirate! see him sweep
The lonely bosom of the deep,

And daily the horizon scan
From Hatteras or Matapan.
Be sure,
before that pirate's old,
He will have made a pot of gold,
And will
retire from all his labours
And be respected by his neighbours.

YOU ALSO SCAN YOUR LIFE'S HORIZON
FOR ALL THAT
YOU CAN CLAP YOUR EYES ON.
A MARTIAL ELEGY FOR SOME LEAD SOLDIERS
For certain soldiers lately dead
Our reverent dirge shall here be said.

Them, when their martial leader called,
No dread preparative
appalled;
But leaden-hearted, leaden-heeled,
I marked them
steadfast in the field.
Death grimly sided with the foe,
And smote
each leaden hero low.
Proudly they perished one by one:
The dread
Pea-cannon's work was done!
O not for them the tears we shed,

Consigned to their congenial lead;
But while unmoved their sleep

they take,
We mourn for their dear Captain's sake,
For their dear
Captain, who shall smart
Both in his pocket and his heart,
Who saw
his heroes shed their gore,
And lacked a shilling to buy more!
THE GRAVER THE PEN: OR, SCENES FROM NATURE,
WITH APPROPRIATE VERSES
Poem: I--PROEM
Unlike the common run of men,
I wield a double power to please,

And use the GRAVER and the PEN
With equal aptitude and ease.
I move with that illustrious crew,
The ambidextrous Kings of Art;

And every mortal thing I do
Brings ringing money in the mart.
Hence, in the morning hour, the mead,
The forest and the stream
perceive
Me wandering as the muses lead -
Or back returning in the
eve.
Two muses like two maiden aunts,
The engraving and the singing
muse,
Follow, through all my favourite haunts,
My devious traces
in the dews.
To guide and cheer me, each attends;
Each speeds my rapid task
along;
One to my cuts her ardour lends,
One breathes her magic in
my song.
Poem: II--THE PRECARIOUS MILL
Alone above the stream it stands,
Above the iron hill,
The
topsy-turvy, tumble-down,
Yet habitable mill.
Still as the ringing saws advance
To slice the humming deal,
All
day the pallid miller hears
The thunder of the wheel.
He hears the river plunge and roar
As roars the angry mob;
He feels

the solid building quake,
The trusty timbers throb.
All night beside the fire he cowers:
He hears the rafters jar:
O why
is he not in a proper house
As decent people are!
The floors are all aslant, he sees,
The doors are all a-jam;
And from
the hook above his head
All crooked swings the ham.
'Alas,' he cries and shakes his head,
'I see by every sign,
There soon
all be the deuce to pay,
With this estate of mine.'
Poem: III--THE DISPUTATIOUS PINES
The first pine to the second said:
'My leaves are black, my branches
red;
I stand upon this moor of mine,
A hoar, unconquerable pine.'
The second sniffed and answered: 'Pooh!
I am as good a pine as you.'
'Discourteous tree,' the first replied,
'The tempest in my boughs had
cried,
The hunter slumbered in my shade,
A hundred years ere you
were made.'
The second smiled as he returned:
'I shall be here when you are
burned.'
So far dissension ruled the pair,
Each turned on each a frowning air,

When flickering from the bank anigh,
A flight of martens met their
eye.
Sometime their course they watched; and then -
They nodded
off to sleep again.
Poem: IV--THE TRAMPS
Now long enough had day endured,
Or King Apollo Palinured,

Seaward he steers his panting team,
And casts on earth his latest
gleam.

But see! the Tramps with jaded eye
Their destined provinces espy.

Long through the hills their way they took,
Long camped