Gin you're sae douce ye sneer at this,
You're nought but senseless asses 0:
The wisest man the warl e'er saw,
He dearly loved the lasses O.

Green grow the rushes 0:
Green grow the rushes 0:

The sweetest hours that e'er I spent,
Were spent among the lasses O.

Auld Nature swears the lovely dears
Her noblest work she classes 0;
Her 'prentice han' she tried on man,
And then she made the lasses O.

Green grow the rushes 0:

Green grow the rushes 0:

The sweetest hours that e'er I spent,

Were spent among the lasses O!

BURNS.

DICK'S NOSE.

DICK cannot wipe his nostrils when he pleases,
His nose so long is, and his arm so short:
And never cries God bless me!' when he sneezes,
He cannot hear so distant a report.

GREEK ANTHOLOGY.

Tollitis frontes mihi qui severas,

Jure vos stultum pecus audietis :
Summus in toto Sophus orbe bella
Arsit haud una tener in puella.

Virent junci fluviales,
Junci prope lymphas :
Ah quam ridet, quæ me videt
Hora inter nymphas !

Virgine exacta sibi gratulata est
Artifex Natura, operique plaudit;
Quæ rudis Martem manus expedivit,
Doctior quanto Venerem expolivit!

Virent junci fluviales,

Junci prope lymphas :

Ah quam ridet, quæ me videt
Hora inter nymphas !

J. H. M.

DE NASO RICARDI.

RICARDUS nescit madidas emungere nares,
Tam longo est naso, tam brevis a cubito:
Nec si sternutat, fausto siet omine!' clamat;
Tam longe amotos non capit aure sonos.

H. D.

THE MAD DOG.

GOOD people all of every sort

Give ear unto my song;

And if you find it wondrous short,
It cannot hold you long.

In Islington there lived a man

Of whom the world might say,

That still a godly race he ran,
Whene'er he went to pray.

A kind and gentle heart he had
To comfort friends and foes;

The naked every day he clad,
When he put on his clothes.

And in that town a dog was found,
As many dogs there be,

Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound,

And curs of low degree.

The dog and man at first were friends;

But when a pique began,

The dog to gain his private ends

Went mad, and bit the man.

CANIS RABIDUS.

AUDITE, O cives, quovis ex ordine nati,
Et patula nostros imbibite aure modos;
Et si forte quibus videatur perbrevis esse,
Non faciet longam fabula tota moram.

Rure suburbano quidam vivebat, ut aiunt,
Quo laudis nunquam dignior alter erat;
Non parcus Superum cultor, si credimus ori,
Ante Deos quoties flecteret ille genu.

Hostibus hic mansuetus erat, dilectus amicis,
In cunctos miræ sedulitatis homo:

Inque dies spisso nudum velabat amictu,
Cum sese in vestes induit ipse suas.

Illa forte canis sese stabulabat in urbe;

Nec mirum est-multos urbs habet illa canes.
Illic Spartanumque genus fortesque Molossi,
Et catuli infames, squallida turba, ruunt.

Cum nondum lites indixerat unus et alter,

Junctus amicitia cum cane vixit homo.

Inde canis, quædam, credo, sibi commoda quærens, Fit subito rabidus, dilaniatque virum.

Around from all the neighbouring streets
The wondering neighbours ran,

And swore the dog had lost his wits,
To bite so good a man.

The wound it seemed both sore and sad
To every Christian eye;

And while they swore the dog was mad,
They swore the man would die.

But soon a wonder came to light,
That shewed the rogues they lied;
The man recovered of the bite;

The dog it was that died.

GOLDSMITH.

THE TROPIC SUN.

AND now, my race of terror run,
Mine be the eve of tropic sun;
No pale gradations quench his ray,
No twilight dews his wrath allay;
With disk like battle-target red,
He rushes to his burning bed;
Dyes the wide wave with bloody light;
Then sinks at once-and all is night.

SCOTT.