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It was my hint to speak.-All these to hear
Would Desdemona seriously incline:

But still the house affairs would draw her thence,
Which ever as she could with haste despatch,
She'd come again, and with a greedy ear
Devour up my discourse: which I observing,
Took once a pliant hour, and found good means
To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart,
That I would all my pilgrimage dilate;
Whereof by parcels she had something heard,
But not distinctively. I did consent,
And often did beguile her of her tears,
When I did speak of some distressful stroke
That my youth suffered. My story being done,
She gave me for my pains a world of sighs.

She said, in truth, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange ; "Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful

She wished she had not heard it—yet she wished
That heaven had made her such a man:-
-she thanked me,

And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her,
I should but teach him how to tell my story,
And that would woo her. On this hint I spake :
She loved me for the dangers I had past;
And I loved her, that she did pity them.
This only is the witchcraft I have used.

THE FARMER AND THE COUNSELLOR.

A COUNSEL in the Common Pleas,

Who was esteemed a mighty wit,

Upon the strength of a chance hit, Amid a thousand flippancies,

And his occasional bad jokes

In bullying, bantering, brow-beating,
Ridiculing and maltreating

Women, or other timid folks;
In a late cause resolved to hoax
A clownish Yorkshire farmer-

-one

Who by his uncouth look and gait,
Appeared expressly meant by Fate,
For being quizzed and played upon.
So having tipped the wink to those
In the back rows,

Who kept their laughter bottled down,
Until our wag should draw the cork,
He smiled jocosely on the clown,

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And went to work.

Well, Farmer Numskull, how go calves at York?" "Why not, Sir, as they do with you, But on four legs instead of two."

"Officer!” cried the legal elf,

Piqued at the laugh against himself,

"Do pray keep silence down below there;
Now, look at me, clown, and attend,
Have I not seen you somewhere, friend?
"Yees-very like-I often go there."
"Our rustic's waggish-quite laconic,"
The counsel cried with grin sardonic.-
"I wish I'd known this prodigy,
This genius of the clods when I

On circuit was at York residing.-
Now, Farmer, do for once speak true,
Mind, you're on oath, so tell me, you
Who doubtless think yourself so clever,
Are there as many fools as ever
In the West Riding?"

"Why no, Sir, no; we've got our share,
But not so many as when you were there."

SATAN'S ADDRESS TO THE SUN.
O THOU that with surpassing glory crowned,
Look'st from thy sole dominion like the God
Of this new world; at whose sight all the stars
Hide their diminished heads; to thee I call,
But with no friendly voice, and add thy name
O Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams,
That bring to my remembrance from what state
I fell, how glorious once above thy sphere;
Till pride and worse ambition threw me down,
Warring in Heaven against Heaven's matchless King;
Ah, wherefore! he deserved no such return
From me, whom he created what I was
In that bright eminence, and with his good
Upbraided none; nor was his service hard.
What could be less than to afford him praise,
The easiest recompense, and pay him thanks,
How due! yet all his good proved ill in me,
And wrought but malice; lifted up so high
I 'sdained subjection, and thought one step higher
Would set me highest, and in a moment quit
The debt immense of endless gratitude,
So burdensome, still paying, still to owe,
Forgetful what from him I still received,
And understood not that a grateful mind
By owing owes not, but still pays, at once
Indebted and discharged; what burden then?
O had his powerful destiny ordained
Me some inferior Angel, I had stood

Then happy; no unbounded hope had raised
Ambition. Yet why not? some other power
As great might have aspired, and me, though mean,
Drawn to his part; but other powers as great
Fell not, but stand unshaken, from within
Or from without, to all temptations armed.

Hadst thou the same free will and power to stand?
Thou hadst; whom hast thou then, or what to accuse,
But Heaven's free love dealt equally to all?
Be then his love accursed, since love or hate,
To me alike, it deals eternal woe.

Nay, cursed be thou; since against his thy will
Chose freely what it now so justly rues.
Me miserable! which way shall I fly
Infinite wrath, and infinite despair?
Which way I fly is Hell; myself am Hell;
And in the lowest deep, a lower deep
Still threatening to devour me opens wide,
To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heaven.
O then at last relent: is there no place
Left for repentance, none for pardon left?
None left but by submission; and that word
Disdain forbids me, and my dread of shame
Among the Spirits beneath, whom I seduced
With other promises and other vaunts
Than to submit, boasting I could subdue
The Omnipotent. Ah me! they little know
How dearly I abide that boast so vain,
Under what torments inwardly I groan,
While they adore me on the throne of Hell,
With diadem and sceptre high advanced,
The lower still I fall, only supreme
In misery; such joy ambition finds.
But say I could repent, and could obtain

By act of grace my former state; how soon

Would height recal high thoughts, how soon unsay

What feigned submission swore? Ease would recant Vows made in pain as violent and void.

For never can true reconcilement grow

Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep;
Which would but lead me to a worse relapse
And heavier fall: so should I purchase dear
Short intermission bought with double smart.

This knows my punisher; therefore as far
From granting he, as I from begging peace :
All hope excluded thus, behold instead
Of us outcast, exiled, his new delight,
Mankind created, and for him this world.
So farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear,
Farewell remorse: all good to me is lost;
Evil be thou my good; by thee at least
Divided empire with Heaven's King I hold,
By thee, and more than half perhaps will reign;
As man ere long, and this new world, shall know.

THE BUTTERFLY.

BEAUTIFUL creature! I have been
Moments uncounted watching thee,
Now flitting round the foliage green
Of yonder dark, embowering tree;
And now again, in frolic glee,
Hovering around those opening flowers,
Happy as Nature's child should be,
Born to enjoy her loveliest bowers.
And I have gazed upon thy flight,
Till feelings I can scarce define,
Awakened by so fair a sight,

With desultory thoughts combine
Not to induce me to repine,

Or envy thee thy happiness;

But from a lot so bright as thine
To borrow musings born to bless.
For unto him whose spirit reads

Creation with a Christian's eye,
Each happy living creature pleads

The cause of Him who reigns on high;
Who spanned the earth, and arched the sky,

Gave life to every thing that lives,

And still delighteth to supply

With happiness the life He gives.

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