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It has been said-indeed the proverb's old
That “ Bad's the wind that blows not good to some one,” And so we'd also say of frost and cold,
Although, perhaps, it does not well become one
(Howe'er may freely speak a gruff and grum one)
But, call me what you please, except hum-drum one,
in various ways.
Good cometh But quickly rose, thanks to its sapient masters,
In fairer form; and, what's still better, abler
Few towns, I know, are better built, or stabler.
"T has been advanced by Tacitus, no fabler, That here it was, where Cæsar i boldly threw,
A bridge across the Rhine.--Some modern cabler,
1 A full account of the making of this bridge may be found in Cæsar's
(And well enough it suits the purpose too) Has made a Pont Volant on which we flew.
A flying bridge.
The Romans wrote—and ages have believ'd,
That when the spirit of that mighty man, Had sped, and many a noble heart had griev'd
When cold the blood, which late so fervent ran
The Romans wrote- let those deny who canThat then the senate shook, the meteor shone !
Ambitious call’d, by the republican. But who more generous, brave, forgiving ? None'Twas he, in truth, who would have grac'd a throne.
Would'st thou be truly great, thou'lt not succeed,
However wide thy power, uncheck'd thy sway
Commentaries (lib. iv. cap. xvii.-xviii.) It is an extraordinary fact, that, in ten days, he not only made the bridge, but passed his whole army over it.“ Diebus X. quibus materia cæpta erat comportari, omni opere effecto, exercitus transducitur.”
Let whosoever laud thy warlike deed,
The boldest poet, in his loftiest lay
If not magnanimous (that surest stay);
Had the self-chosen emperor of a day,
An evil conscience.
Kings are but men, with all their failings, feelings,
And failings oft they haye-how should they not?
The Gauls surnam'd him Bon--he's not forgot.
No! thanks to Sully, there's not lost one jot.-
Who ruld the empire without or blame or blot ?
A modest re. Thou'st grown quite regal, Raymond, and would'st seem,
To take no heed of our gay, gallant Kaiser;
you would let, or stop, or sink, or swim.I’m no such fool, sweet Alice, but much wiser.
Know, then, that mighty Power, of all deviser, Has just enveil'd us in so dense a fog,
Our mess-man (rumour whispers he's a miser), Cries, “ Further we can't go; but there is Prog," So says the Captain-he's an honest dog.
Or progg’d or fogg'd, it matters not ; for here
We stick right fast, till the bright morning sun Shall rise in strength, and make the river clear;
The while, all cramm'd below—what glorious fun!
To sleep's impossible. I can't for one,
My fear's the hours will far to quickly run,
What heavenly voice ! 'tis she-'tis she who sings,
And well it is ; for here's a precious fool
A self-suffi- No other power could silence; for he brings,
Red-hot from College-would it were from school
An ample share of what is pitiful !-
Swears that by every right existing rule,
Advice to fond mothers.
May I, fond mothers—dare I here lament
That striplings, stor’d with little else than Greek,
From your dear apron strings, till taught to speak
A language that is complaisant and meek ?
That being English, they may boast and break,
Oh! courtesy, thou best, thou sweetest balm,
To heal those wounds which arrogance would ope ;