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MORE ANCIENT THAN THE ART OF PRINTING, AND NOT TO
BE FOUND IN ANY CATALOGUE.
There is a book, which we may call
(Its excellence is such) Alone a library, though small;
The ladies thumb it much.
And things with words compared,
Which merits most regard ?
A golden edging boast;
at the most.
Adorns its outer part ;
A magazine of art.
Oft visit: and the fair
As with a miser's care. Thence implements of every size,
, And form’d for various use, (They need but to consult their eyes)
They readily produce.
The largest and the longest kind
Possess the foremost page, A sort most needed by the blind,
Or nearly such from age.
Presents in bright array
Not quite so blind as they.
What their occasions ask,
Perform a nicer task.
But still with regular decrease
From size to size they fall,
less and less;
In narrow space is here ! This volume's method and intent
How luminous and clear.
It leaves no reader at a loss
Or posed, whoever reads : No commentator's tedious gloss,
Nor even index needs.
No book is treasured there,
with this compare.
No!-rival none in either host
Of this was ever seen,
So brilliant and so keen.
A NEEDLE, small as small can be,
Nor is my purchase dear;
As days are in the year.
The labour is not light;
To fashion us aright.
The sheers another plies;
Gives all an equal size.
His follower makes it fast:
And with his mallet and his file
The seventh and the last.
Now therefore, Edipus! declare
that obtains Its
purpose with so much ado At last produces !—tell me true,
And take me for your pains !
SPARROWS SELF-DOMESTICATED IN TRINITY
NONE ever shared the social feast,
Sagacious listeners to the sound,
As in her ancient mistress' lap
The youthful tabby lay,
Alike disposed to play.
And with protruted claws Ploughs all the length of Lydia's arm,
Mere wantonness the cause.
At once, resentful of the deed,
She shakes her to the ground With many a threat that she shall bleed
With still a deeper wound.