A country bumpkin the great offer heard; Poor Hodge, who suffered by a broad, black beard, That seemed a shoe-brush, stuck beneath his nose. With cheerfulness the eighteen pence he paid, And proudly to himself in whispers said, "This rascal stole the razors, I suppose. "No matter if the fellow be a knave, Provided that the razors shave; It certainly will be a monstrous prize." So home the clown with his good fortune went, And quickly soaped himself to ears and eyes. Being well lathered from a dish or tub, 'Twas a vile razor! then the rest he tried; All were impostors. "Ah!" Hodge sighed, "I wish my eighteen pence was in my purse." In vain, to chase his beard and bring the graces, He cut, and dug, and whined, and stamped, and swore, Brought blood and danced, blasphemed and made wry faces, And cursed each razor's body o'er and o'er. His muzzle, formed of opposition stuff, Firm as a Foxite, would not lose its ruff; So kept it, laughing at the steel and suds. Hodge, in a passion, stretched his angry jaws, Vowing the direst vengeance, with clenched claws, On the vile cheat that sold the goods. "Razors! a vile, confounded dog! Not fit to scrape a hog!" Hodge sought the fellow, found him, and begun : "P'rhaps, Master Razor-rogue! to you 'tis fun That people flay themselves out of their lives. You rascal! for an hour have I been grubbing, To cry up razors that can't shave." "Friend," quoth the razor-man, "I'm not a knave. As for the razors you have bought, Upon my soul, I never thought That they would shave!" "Not think they'd shave!" quoth Hodge, with wondering eyes, And voice not much unlike an Indian yell; "What were they made for, then, you dog?" he cries. "Made?" quoth the fellow, with a smile-" to sell." WALCOT. XVI. MISCELLANEOUS. TIME NOT TO BE RECALLED. MARK that swift arrow, how it cuts the air, - Use all persuasions now, and try If thou canst call it back, or stay it there. That way it went; but thou shalt find Fool! 'tis thy life, and the fond archer thou! I'll bid thee fetch but yesterday, REASONS FOR HUMILITY. ONE part, one little part, we dimly scan, For thou art but of dust. Be humble and be wise. BEATTIR, SEEING AND NOT SEEING. THE one with yawning made reply: "What have we seen? Not much have I! The other, smiling, said the same; But with face transfigured and eye of flame: "Trees, meadows, mountains, groves, and streams! Blue sky and clouds, and sunny gleams!" C. T. BROOKS. HAMLET TO HIS MOTHER. Look here, upon this picture, and on this; This was your husband. Look you, now, what follows: The heyday in the blood is tame, it's humble, SHAKSPEARE. CATILINE'S DEFIANCE. BANISHED from Rome! What's banished but set free From daily contact of the things I loathe? my chain ! I held some slack allegiance till this hour; But now my sword's my own. Smile on, my lords! I scorn to count what feelings, withered hopes, Strong provocations, bitter, burning wrongs, I have within my heart's hot cells shut up, But here I stand and scoff you: - here I fling Hatred and full defiance in your face. XVII. THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE. HALF a league, half a league, Half a league onward, Rode the six hundred. "Forward, the Light Brigade! Charge for the guns!" he said: Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. "Forward, the Light Brigade!" Theirs not to make reply, Theirs but to do and die, Rode the six hundred. |