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THE MAN OF ROSS.
187. THE MAN OF ROSS. -- ALL our praises why should lords engross ? Rise, honest Muse! and sing the Man of Ross : Pleased Vaga echoes through her winding bounds, And rapid Severn boarse applause resounds. Who hung with woods yon mountain's sultry brow? From the dry rock who bade the waters flow? Not to the skies in useless columns tost, Or in proud falls magnificently lost, But clear and artless, pouring through the plain Health to the sick, and solace to the swain, Whose causeway parts the vale with shady rows? Whose seats the weary traveller repose ? Who taught the heaven-directed spire to rise ? “The Man of Ross!” each lisping babe replies. Behold the market-place, with poor o'erspread ! The Man of Ross divides the weekly bread. He feeds yon almshouse, neat, but void of state, Where age and want sit smiling at the gate : Him portion'd maids, apprentic'à orphans blest, The young who labour, and the old who rest. Is any sick ? the Man of Ross relieves, Prescribes, attends, and med'cine makes and gives. Is there a variance ? enter but his door, Balk'd are the courts, and contest is no more. Despairing quacks with curses fled the place, And vile attorneys, now an useless race. Thrice happy man, enabled to pursue What all so wish, but want the power to do! Oh! say, what sums that generous hand supply? What mines, to swell that boundless charity Of debts and taxes, wife and children clear, This Man possess'd-five hundred pounds a year! Blush, Grandeur! blush ! proud courts withdraw your
blaze! Ye little stars ! hide your diminish'd rays.
TIE MOUSE AND THE CAKE.
188. THE MOUSE AND THE CAKE.
A MOUSE found a beautiful piece of plum-cake,
“My stars !" "cried the mouse, while his eye beam'd
with glee; “Here's a treasure I've found ; what a feast it will be ; But, hark! there's a noise, 'tis my brothers at play ; So I'll hide with the cake, lest they wander this way.
“Not a bit shall they have, for I know I can eat
He nibbled, and nibbled, and panted, but still
His family heard him, and as he grew worse,
"Ah! me !" cried the doctor, “ advice is too late, You must die before long, so prepare for your fate; If you had but divided the cake with your brothers, 'Twould have done you no harm, and been good for the
THE MOUSE AND THE CAKE.
“Had you shared it, the treat had been wholesome
enough; But all eaten by one, it was dangerous stuff; So prepare for the worst,” and the word had scarce fled, When the doctorturn'dround, and the patient was dead.
Now all little people the lesson may take,
189. DO A GOOD TURN WHEN YOU CAN. It needs not great wealth a kind heart to display,– If the hand be but willing it soon finds a way; And the poorest one yet in the humblest abode May help a poor brother a step on his road. Oh! whatever the fortune a man may have won, A kindness depends on the way it is done; And though poor be our purse, and though narrow our
span, Let us all try to do a good turn when we can, The bright bloom of pleasure may charm for a while, But its beauty is frail, and inconstant its smile; Whilst the beauty of kindness, immortal in bloom, Sheds a sweetness o'er life, and a grace o'er the tomb ! Then if we enjoy life, why, the next thing to do, Is to see that another enjoys his life too; And though poor be our purse, and though narrow our
span, Let us all try to do a good turn when we can.
190. OLD CHRISTMAS.
Now he who knows old Christmas,
He knows a carle of worth;
As any upon the earth.
And buttoned up to the chin,
We open and let him in.
We know that he will not fail us,
So we sweep the hearth up clean; . We set him the old armed-chair,
And a cushion whereon to lean. 1
And with sprigs of holly and ivy
We make the house look gay, Just out of an old regard to him,
For it was his ancient way.
We broach the strong ale barrel,
And bring out wine and meat; And thus we have all things ready,
Our dear old friend to greet.
And soon as the time wears round,
The good old carle we see, Coming a-near-for a creditor
Less punctual is than he !
That does one good to hear;
As he hath done many a year.
And after the little children
He asks in a cheerful tone,
He remembers them every one!
What a fine old fellow he is !
With his faculties all as clear,
As a man's in his fortieth year !
What a fine old fellow, in troth !
Not one of your griping elves, Who, with plenty of money to spare,
Think only about themselves.
Not he! for he loveth the children;
And holiday begs for all ;
For the great ones and the small.
With a present for every servant;
For in giving he doth not tire;-
To the girl by the kitchen-fire.
And he tells us witty old stories ;
And singeth with might and main; And we talk of the old man's visit
Till the day that he comes again.
Oh! he is a kind old fellow;
For though the beef be dear,
A good dinner once a year !