May Heav'n preserve thee free from fear,

"Till life's short journey's o'er,

And, when thy work is finish'd here,

Still bless thee ten times more.

Whatever beast we chance to ride,
In country or in town,

The best, it cannot be denied,

May trip, and throw us down.

And tho' no statute has been tried,
I think it would be right,

That Horse or Ass, which e'er we ride,
Should carry men by weight.

In this I think we must agree,

(Deny it if you can)

The beast we ride should always be

Proportion'd to the man.

And still it must be understood,

That either beast or man,

When he has too severe a load,

Will ease it, if he can.

I charge my friend with no disgrace,
Neither the donkey blame;

Because, had I been in Jack's place,
I should have done the same.

Say in defence, whate'er you can,
And count my verse a jest,

I'll ne'er advise so big a man

To ride so small a beast.

Learn hence, when trav'ling on the road,

Not to be so severe,

A fellow-creature thus to load

With more than he can bear.

In future I advise, that you

Do ride a stronger horse, And, as you can no better do,

Thank God it is no worse.

IF I attempt to tell a tale,

Pray do not 'Tell-tales' call me ;

But rather those who me assail,

That mischief may befall me.

You'd think it, Sirs, a great restraint,

Either in man or woman,

Should neither of them be a Saint,

That they should speak to no-man.

Our tongues were made to tell the truth, But sland'ring and backbiting, Whether it be in age or youth,

Is ten times worse than fighting.

And tho' I am before a throng

Denied the power of speaking:

If they succeed and stop my tongue,
Still you shall here me squeaking.

SMOOTH TALES.

SMOOTH TALES at first are very grateful,

And very often apt to please

But in the end, if false, they're hateful,

And not to be recall'd with ease.

"Tis surely best in age or youth,

If we would keep our conscience clear, To search till we have found the truth, And always cast our anchor there.

IF I once more my thoughts express
In this my dogg❜rel rhyme;

For, candidly, I must confess,
My verse is not sublime.

My lines I cannot recommend

As fetch'd from Rome or Greece,

Yet some perhaps may condescend
To read a humble piece.

Tho' not ambition fires my mind,
Nor malice guides my pen,

I find myself to faults inclin'd,

The same as other men.

While others the proud trumpet sway

Until the air they rent,

Let me but on a whistle play,

And I shall be content.

ON KNOWLEDGE.

In search of knowledge we extend our views,

Eager to learn; yet what we know, abuse.
Our learning lengthen'd to its utmost stretch,
We leave immensely more beyond our reach;
And, casting up the account, with shame confess,
That all our wisdom is but foolishness,

THE SYCOPHANT.

THE Sycophant I ever shall despise,
He shows himself, but always in disguise,
Submits himself to be a common tool,
And all, perhaps, to please a brother fool.

IF

any

MY AGE.

friend would wish to know my age,

And for a moment will his time engage,

Observe these lines, it may be done with ease,

(Either on slate or paper which you please.)