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Of a Medical Conversation between two Apothecaries, on a

wet Day in October, while their Patient was expiring of a Dropsy.

PULSE doubly felt, and stay protracted
To hear from Nurse how draughts, had acted;
From the sick sufferer both retire,
And rang'd before the parlour fire,
Well, Sir,” says Æsculapius Drug,
And drew his chair to Galen Smug,

Well, Sir,-I think--but take this seat,
'Tis warmer."

"! Dear Sir.”_45. I entreat:
Freely to state the case before us.-
(This black-dyed cloth's so very porous,
And worn withal so very thin,
I'm almost wetted to the skin).
But really, Sir, and much I dread it,
This case will do us little credit -
(Had I of such a soaking thought,
My large umbrella I'd have brought.)**
" Why, Sir," (says Galen), “I confess
My apprehensions are not less;
For though I've tartar tried, and squills,
Fast as 'tis drain'd, the venter fills :
What process, Sir, occurs to you-
Mix tủe same dose, or try some new!"**

" Why, Sir, (I'm getting somewhat dryer;
Some coals here to the parlour fire),
In hydrop cases, talis qualis,
Our nostrum is the digitalis :
It rummages th' abdomen well,
And aqueous tumors will expel,
Either by peristaltic motion,
Or ore ab-almost an ocean."
" True, Sir;-And yet on old Huck Saunders,
When he had dropsy, gout, and jaundice,
About six days before he died,
The drastic you propose, was tried :
And when 'twas done, the Doctor swore,
. Had he as many lives, and more
Than cats entail. Judæus credit),
To save them all, he'd not repeat it.'
But maugre this--in draught or pill

I'll give it desperandum nil.
6 Ultimum vale-that's

my notion
I too will send a potent potion:
At least, it's action will be brief,
And Nature now asks bold relief.“

They parted, to meet there no more
The patient's sufferings soon were u'er!

When Rochester doubted if one of his fry,

By disease or a cord would from life be ejected; “ My Lord," quoth the wag," that depends whether I

By your mistress or principles first am infected.”

G. H. D.




Now that Winter, with gloomy and rigorous sway, Hurls his tempests, his sleet, and his snow all the day,

And keeps us besieg’d by the fire, Let us drown in the glass all our cares as we ought, Nor give taxes, and parties, and statesmen a thought

Nor who fights and who conquers enquire. I know, dear Menard, all the works that you write, Fruits immortal of many a slumberless, night,

Will live till the world meets its doom:
But what will it boot you, dear friend, that your name
Shall surely be read in the temple of Fame,

When you feed the worms of the tombs
Quit, quit then a toil which in vain you bestow!
Of our nectar delicious in torrents shall flow

The ruby-red sparkling stores.
More ruddy and bright will our nectar be found,
Than that which young Ganymede, passing around,

In the cups of the deities pours. "Tis wine that so swiftly speeds onward the years, That each scarce a day to our fancy appears :

"Tis wine makes us youthful once more:

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Tis wine that alone from the bosom bids ily
The regret and remembrance of things now gone by,

And the dread of the sorrows in store.

Let us drink, dear Menard, let us fill high our glasses, For Time, stealing on, imperceptibly passes ;

He leads to the close of our course, "Twere in vain to entreat for a moment of grace, The years will as little their footsteps retrace,

As rivers run back to their source.

The Spring, cloth'd with light, and with verdure, and

Shall quickly again chase the frost and the gloom;

The sea has its ebb and its rise;
But when that at length rosy Youth quits the stage,
And his empire resigns to the sceptre of Age,

For ever, for ever he flies !

The laws of stern Death seize resistless on all !
Alike on the sovereign's palace they fall,

And the reed-cover'd hut of the swain.
The Fates, when they please, destine man to the grave,
And the thread of existence, in monarch and slave,

By the same steel they sever in twain, By their tyrannous power nought on earth is rever'd, It strikes, and the things that eternal appear'd

Like the visions of slumberers sink : By that power, dear Menard, we too soon shall be led, In the regions of darkness and silence to tread, And the stream of oblivion to drink.



TO .


Otium Divos, &c. &c.


ease, the wearied Seaman sighs When cloudy night involves the skies,

Nor moon, nor stars appear;
While glaring o'er the troubled deep
Pale Fancy sees fresh tempests sweep,

And heightens every fear.

For ease the hardy sons of war,
The fierce Croatian and Hussar,

'Mid carnag'd fields implore, For ease, a blessing never sold, Beyond the price of gems or gold,

Those toys the vain adore.

For neither gold 'nor gems combin'd
Assuage the tumults of the mind

Which forc'd the wretch to roam,

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