Bolus loved verse;-and took so much delight in't, That his prescriptions he resolved to write in't. No opportunity he e'er let pass Of writing the directions on his labels. Or rather like the lines in Hudibras. Apothecary's verse! and where's the treason? He had a patient lying at death's door, Some three miles from the town-it might be four; To whom, one evening, Bolus sent an article, In pharmacy that's call'd cathartical; And on the label of the stuff He wrote this verse, Which one would think was clear enough and terse: "When taken, To be well shaken." Next morning early, Bolus rose, Who a vile trick of stumbling had : For what's expected from a horse Bolus arrived, and gave a doubtful rap; The servant let him in, with dismal face, Portending some disaster: John's countenance as rueful look'd and grim, "Well, how's the patient?" Bolus said,— "Indeed!-hum; ha!-that's very odd. He took the draught!"-John gave a nod. "Well now! what then?-speak out, you dunce." 'Why then," says John, we shook him once." "Shook him!-how?" Bolus stammer'd out, "We jolted him about." 66 "What! shake a patient, man! a shake won't do." "No, sir; and so we gave him two." "Two shakes! odds curse! 'Twould make the patient worse!" "It did so, sir; and so a third we tried." "Well! what then?"-" Then sir, my master died." COLMAN. Count Eberhard. Two Counts with Franz to dine have come And when the feast was done, All push'd the wine and talk'd of home, The Margrave talk'd of healthful springs, Another praised his vines; Bohemia spoke of precious things In many darksome mines. Count Everhard sat silent there, "Now, Würtemberg, begin! There must be something good and fair, Your pleasant country in." "In healthful springs and purple wine," Count Everhard replied; "In costly gems, and gold to shine, I cannot match your pride. 66 But you shall hear a simple tale. One night I lost my way, Within a wood along a vale, And down to sleep I lay. "And there I dream'd that I was dead, And funeral lamps were shining With solemn lustre round my head, Within a vault reclining. "And men and women stood beside My cold sepulchral bed; And shedding many tears they cried, 'Count Everhard is dead.' "A tear upon my face fell down, I found my head was resting on "A woodman 'mid the forest-shade The princes sat and wondering heard, ZIMMERMANN. The Song of the Brave Man. The spring-gale swept the southern sea, On mountain summits melts the snow, On arch and pillar rear'd, and made A bridge across the stream was laid, The tempest now more fiercely rang; The icebergs meet, and wildly wash The icebergs thunder'd, fall on fall, In uproar wild along the shore; They burst the bridge's shatter'd wall, Pillar by pillar down they bore: The havoc onward made its way— "Have mercy, heaven!" they louder pray. Aloft, upon the further brink, A crowd stands gazing, great and small; To risk the rescue: one and all. The trembling tollman, child, and wife, Above the tempest shriek'd for life. |