CXXIV. Sweet is the vintage, when the showering grapes CXXV. Sweet is the legacy, and passing sweet The unexpected death of some old lady Or gentleman of seventy years complete, Who've made "us youth" wait too—too long already For an estate, or cash, or country-seat, Still breaking, but with stamina so steady, That all the Israelites are fit to mob its Next owner for their double damn'd post-obits. CXXVI. 'Tis sweet to win, no matter how, one's laurels Sweet is old wine in bottles, ale in barrels ; Dear is the helpless creature we defend Against the world; and dear the schoolboy spot We ne'er forget, though there we are forgot. CXXVII. But sweeter still than this, than these, than all, The tree of knowledge has been pluck'd-all's known, And life yields nothing further to recall thy of this ambrosial sin, so shown, in fable, as the unforgiven Prometheus filch'd for us from heaven. CXXVIII. Man's a strange animal, and makes strange use Some new experiment to show his parts; This is the age of oddities let loose, Where different talents find their different marts; You'd best begin with truth, and when you've lost your Labour, there's a sure market for imposture. CXXIX. What opposite discoveries we have seen! (Signs of true genius, and of empty pockets :) One makes new noses-one a guillotine One breaks your bones-one sets them in their sockets; But vaccination certainly has been A kind of antithesis to Congreve's rockets, CXXX. Bread has been made (indifferent) from potatoes; Of the Humane Society's beginning, By which men are unsuffocated gratis: What wondrous new machines have late been spinning! CXXXII. This is the patent age of new inventions, Sir Humphrey Davy's lantern, by which coals CXXXIII. Man's a phenomenon, one knows not what, Pleasure's a sin, and sometimes sin's a pleasure; But whether glory, power, or love, or treasure, The path is through perplexing ways, and when The goal is gain'd, we die, you know-and then CXXXIV. What then?-I do not know-no more do you- CXXXV. 'Twas, as the watchmen say, a cloudy night; CXXXVI. "Twas midnight-Donna Julia was in bed, Sleeping, most probably-when at her door Arose a clatter might awake the dead, If they had never been awoke before, And that they have been so we all have read, And are to be so, at the least once moreThe door was fasten'd, but with voice and fist First knocks were heard, then "Madam-Madam-hist! CXXXVII. "For God's sake ;-Madam-Madam-here's my master "With more than half the city at his back"Was ever heard of such a curst disaster! ""Tis not my fault-I kept good watch-Alack! "Do, pray undo the bolt a little faster "They're on the stair just now, and in a crack "Will all be here; perhaps he yet may fly 66 Surely the window's not so very high!" CXXXVIII. By this time Don Alfonso was arrived, With torches, friends, and servants in great number; The major part of them had long been wived, And therefore paused not to disturb the slumber Of any wicked woman, who contrived By stealth her husband's temples to encumber; Examples of this kind are so contagious, Were not one punished, all would be outrageous CXXXIX. I can't tell how, or why, or what suspicion CXL. Poor Donna Julia, starting, as from sleep, yawn, As if she had just now from out them crept: CXLI. But Julia mistress, and Antonia maid, Appear'd like two poor harmless women, who Had thought one man might be deterr'd by two, 66 My dear, I was the first who came away." CXLII. Now Julia found at length a voice, and cried,' "In Heaven's name, Don Alfonso, what d'ye mean? "Has madness seized you ?-would that I had died "Ere such a monster's victim I had been! "What may this midnight violence betide, "A sudden fit of drunkenness or spleen? "Dare you suspect me, whom the thought would kill! Search, then, the room !"-Alfonso said, " CXLIII. 'I will." He search'd, they search'd, and rummaged every where, Closet and clothes'-press, chest and window-seat, And found much linen, lace, and several pair Of stockings, slippers, brushes, combs, complete, With other articles of ladies fair, To keep them beautiful, or leave them neat: |