You think, no doubt, he sits and muses On future broken bones and bruises, If he should chance to fall. No; not a single thought like that Employs his philosophic pate, Or troubles it at all.
He sees that this great roundabout The world, with all its motley rout, Church, army, physic, law,
Its customs, and its businesses, Is no concern at all of his,
And says-what says he?-Caw.
Thrice happy bird! I too have seen Much of the vanities of men ;
And, sick of having seen 'em, Would cheerfully these limbs resign For such a pair of wings as thine, And such a head between 'em.
AD GRILLUM ANACREONTICUM.
BY VINCENT BOURNE.
O QUI meæ culinæ Argutulus Choraules, Et Hospes es canorus, Quacunque commoreris. Felicitatis omen; Jucundiore cantu Siquando me salutes, Et ipse te rependam, Et ipse, quâ valebo, Nemunerabo musâ.
Dicêris innocensque
Et gratus inquilinus ; Nec victitans rapinis, Ut sorices voraces, Muresve curiosi, Furumque delicatum Vulgus domesticorum : Sed tutus in camini Recessibus, quiete Contentus et calore.
Beatior Cicadâ,
Quæ te referre formå, Quæ voce te videtûr; Et saltitans per herbas, Unius, haud secundæ, Estatis est Chorista: Tu carmen integratum Reponis ad Decembrem, Lætus per universum Incontinenter annum.
Te nulla Lux relinquit, Te nulla nox revisit, Non Musicæ vacantem, Curisve non solutum : Quin amplies canendo, Quin amplies fruendo, Ætatulam, vel omni, Quam nos Homunciones Absumimus querendo, Ætate longiorem
TRANSLATION OF THE ABOVE.
LITTLE inmate, full of mirth, Chirping on my kitchen hearth, Wheresoe'er be thine abode, Always harbinger of good, Pay me for thy warm retreat With a song more soft and sweet; In return thou shalt receive Such a strain as I can give.
Thus thy praise shall be exprest, Inoffensive, welcome guest! While the rat is on the scout, And the mouse with curious snout, With what vermin else infest Every dish, and spoil the best; Frisking thus before the fire, Thou hast all thine heart's desire.
Though in voice and shape they be Formed as if akin to thee, Thou surpassest, happier far, Happiest grasshoppers that are ; Theirs is but a summer's song, Thine endures the winter long, Unimpaired, and shrill, and clear, Melody throughout the year.
Neither night, nor dawn of day, Puts a period to thy play: Sing then-and extend thy span Far beyond the date of man.
Wretched man, whose years are spent In repining discontent
Lives not, aged though he be, Half a span, compared with thee.
CHRISTATUS, pictisque ad Thaida Psittacus alis, Missus ab Eoo munus amante venit. Ancillis mandat primam formare loquelam, Archididascaliæ dat sibi Thais opus. Psittace, ait Thais, fingitque sonantia molle Basia, quæ docilis molle refingit Avis. Jam captat, jam dimidiat Tyrunculus; et jam Integrat auditos articulatque sonos.
Psittace mi pulcher pulchelle, Hera dicit alumno; Psittace mi pulcher, reddit alumnus Heræ. Jamque canit, ridet, deciesque ægrotat in horâ, Et vocat ancillas nomine quamque suo. Multaque scurratur mendax, et multa jocatur, Et lepido populum detinet augurio.
Nunc tremulum illudet Fratrem, qui suspicit, et Pol Carnalis, quisquis te docet, inquit, Homo est; Argutæ nunc stridet anûs argutulus instar;
Respicit, et nebulo es, quisquis es, inquis Anus. Quando fuit melior Tyro, meliorve Magistra! Quando duo ingeniis tam coiere pares! Ardua discenti nulla est, res nulla docenti Ardua; cum doceat Fæmina, discat Avis.
TRANSLATION OF THE ABOVE.
IN painted plumes superbly drest, A native of the gorgeous east, By many a billow tost;
Poll gains at length the British shore, Part of the captain's precious store, A present to his toast.
Belinda's maids are soon preferred To teach him now and then a word, As Poll can master it;
But 'tis her own important charge To qualify him more at large,
And make him quite a wit.
Sweet Poll! his doting mistress cries, Sweet Poll! the mimic bird replies, And calls aloud for sack.
She next instructs him in the kiss ; "Tis now a little one, like Miss; And now a hearty smack.
At first he aims at what he hears; And, listening close with both his ears, Just catches at the sound;
But soon articulates aloud,
Much to the amusement of the crowd, And stuns the neighbours round.
A querulous old woman's voice His humorous talent next employs,
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