Inveterate sin is seldom cur'd.
A wife had long a sot endur'd,
Who all his time in taverns spent,
While his affairs in ruin went.
Once as insensible he lay,
She dress'd him in a corpse's array,
And with the undertaker's aid,
Into a burying vault convey'd.
The fumes dispersed, the man awakes;
All for reality he takes.
When by the glimmering of a lamp
He saw his mansion drear and damp,
Reflecting how his life had pass'd,
A forced repentance came at last.
The wife, with suited voice and dress,
Presented an infernal mess:
"Good Trap, pray take away your meat;
I have no appetite to eat,"
He cried, "but faith I'm devilish dry:
Can't you a bowl of wine supply?"
The woman, seeing all was vain,
Restor'd him to his casks again:
Consol'd with certainty, that he
Ere long a real corpse must be.
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[Illustration]
THE FARMER AND HIS QUARRELSOME
SONS.
Three sons an honest farmer had;
And it so happen'd, ne'er a lad
Could with the other two agree;
All quarrelling perpetually.
Their time in idle contest spent,
Garden and farm to ruin went;
And the good farmer and his wife
Led but a miserable life.
One day as this unhappy sire
Sat musing by his evening fire,
He saw some twigs in bundles stand,
Tied for the basket-maker's hand.
Taking up one: "My boys," says he,
"Which is the strongest, let me see;
He who this bundle breaks in twain,
The preference, and this prize shall gain,"
(Showing a pair of Sunday shoes.)
The rivals every effort use
In vain. Their utmost force when tried,
The father took the twigs untied,
And giving to them one by one,
The work immediately was done.
"Yon twigs," he says, "that broken lie,
This useful lesson may supply:
That those in amity who live,
And succor to each other give,
Double their forces to resist
Oppression, and their work assist."
[Illustration]
THE FIG TREE AND THE FLOWERING
SHRUB.
Flowers which many leaves display,
In fruitless beauty fade away.
Cries one of these, with saucy sneer,
To a plain fig-tree growing near,
"How comes it, honest friend, that thou
Dost in the spring no blossoms show?"
Says he, "I keep them out of view,
For fear I should resemble you,
And in the autumn nought produce
Of permanence and solid use."
Who soon and much essay to shine,
May dread a premature decline.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]