One side for the public, a delicate brown, | And thus, O survivor, whose merciless And one that is white, which he always fate Is to take the next hook with the president's bait, You are lost while you snatch from the end of his line The morsel he rent from this bosom of mine ! A MODEST REQUEST COMPLIED WITH AFTER THE DINNER AT he is showing his SCENE, a back parlor in a certain square, Such spinning and wriggling, —why, Or court, or lane, How painfully small to respectable fish!" | Time, — early morning, dear to simple But you're playing the cobbler with holes Persons, take pity on this telltale in your shoes; Your brown side is up, till you 're tried blush, but just wait That, like the Ethiop, whispers, "Hush, And you'll find that all flounders are white on one side." * O hush!" Delightful scene! where smiling comfort broods, There's a slice near the PICKEREL'S pec- Nor business frets, nor anxious care in Where the thorax leaves off and the O si sic omnia! were it ever so ! Which his brother, survivor of fish-hooks Medio e fonte, Virtue has her faults,The clearest fountains taste of Epsom Its central dimple holds a drowning fly! But that one little titbit he cannot re- Strong is the pine by Maine's ambrosial So your bait may be swallowed, no mat- But stronger augers pierce its thickest For you catch your next fish with a piece No iron gate, no spiked and panelled door, of the last. For only water flanks our knives and THE SPEECH. (The speaker, rising to forks, corks. be seen, So, sink or float, we swim without the Looks very red, because so very green.) I rise - I rise- with unaffected fear, (Louder!-speak louder! — who the deuce can hear ?) Yours is the art, by native genius taught, To clothe in eloquence the naked thought; Yours is the skill its music to prolong Through the sweet effluence of melliflu ous song; - with undisguised dis Such are my feelings as I rise, I say! Yours the quaint trick to cram the pithy Quite unprepared to face this learned line That cracks so crisply over bubbling wine; And since success your various gifts attends, throng, Already gorged with eloquence and song: Around my view are ranged on either hand We- that is, I and all your numerous The genius, wisdom, virtue, of the land; Behold the naturalist who in his teens Copies of Luther in the pasteboard the true Carlyle; style, But genuine articles, While far on high the blazing orb shall shed And there the linguist, who by common | Its central light on Harvard's holy head, And Learning's ensigns ever float un roots Thro' all their nurseries tracks old Noah's shoots, How Shem's proud children reared the While Ham's were scattered through the furled Here in the focus of the new-born world! The speaker stops, and, trampling down the pause, Roars through the hall the thunder of applause, One stormy gust of long-suspended Ahs! -Fired at the thought of all the pres- One whirlwind chaos of insane hurrahs ! ent shows, My kindling fancy down the future flows : I see the glory of the coming days THE SONG. But this demands a briefer O'er Time's horizon shoot its streaming A shorter muse, and not the old long rays; draws Near and more near the radiant morning Long metre answers for a common song, Though common metre does not answer long. She came beneath the forest dome To seek its peaceful shade, ** A poor, forsaken maid; No blazoned cross, she bore; One holy book of light and love Was all her worldly store. The dark brown shadows passed away, The rising mart was seen; Their showers of golden rain, But wrath soon gathered uncontrolled To see her ankles red with gold, In healing wounds, died of a wounded heel; Unhappy chief, who, when in childhood doused, Who bade thee lift those snow-white Had saved his bacon, had his feet been A health, unmingled with the reveller's wine, To him whose title is indeed divine ; Truth's sleepless watchman on her midnight tower, Whose lamp burns brightest when the tempests lower. Back from the object that you mean to O who can tell with what a leaden flight hit, Like the strange missile which the Aus tralian throws, Your verbal boomerang slaps you on the nose. One vague inflection spoils the whole with doubt, One trivial letter ruins all, left out; And danger lurks in i without a dot. Drag the long watches of his weary night, While at his feet the hoarse and blind ing gale Strews the torn wreck and bursts the fragile sail, When stars have faded, when the wave is dark, When rocks and sands embrace the foundering bark, And still he pleads with unavailing cry, Behold the light, O wanderer, look or die ! Thus great Achilles, who had shown his A health, fair Themis ! Would the zeal enchanted vine Wreathed its green tendrils round this The midnight taper shows her kneeling If Learning's radiance fill thy modern VIRTUE, the guide that men and nations own; court, Its glorious sunshine streams through And Law, — the bulwark that protects Blackstone's port! Lawyers are thirsty, and their clients too, And true, Those old tribunals, famed for dusty - suits, Where men sought justice ere they brushed their boots ; And what can match, to solve a learned doubt, The warmth within that comes from "cold without"? Health to the art whose glory is to give The crowning boon that makes it life to live. -- Ask not her home; the rock where nature flings Her arctic lichen, last of living things, The gardens, fragrant with the orient's balm, From the low jasmine to the star-like palm, her throne; HEALTH, to all its happiest charm that lends; These and their servants, man's untiring friends; Pour the bright lymph that Heaven itself lets fall, In one fair bumper let us toast them all! THE STETHOSCOPE SONG. A PROFESSIONAL BALLAD. THERE was a young man in Boston town, He bought him a STETHOSCOPE nice and new, All mounted and finished and polished down, With an ivory cap and a stopper too. It happened a spider within did crawl, And spun him a web of ample size, Hail her as mistress o'er the distant | Wherein there chancëd one day to fall waves, And yield their tribute to her wandering slaves. Wherever, moistening the ungrateful soil, A couple of very imprudent flies. The first was a bottle-fly, big and blue, The second was smaller, and thin and long; The tear of suffering tracks the path of So there was a concert between the two, Where hunted misery finds his darkest Some said that his liver was short of bile, lair, And some that his heart was over size, |