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Because, though sore against her will,
She sate all night up at quadrille.
She stretches, gapes, unglues her eyes,
And asks if it be time to rise:

Of headach and the spleen complains;
And then, to cool her heated brains,

Her night-gown and her slippers brought her,
Takes a large dram of citron-water.

Then to her glass; and, "Betty, pray

Don't I look frightfully to-day?

But was it not confounded hard?
Well, if I ever touch a card!
Four mattadores, and lose codille!
Depend upon't, I never will.
But run to Tom, and bid him fix
The ladies here to-night by six."

66 Madam, the goldsmith waits below;
He

says, "His business is to know

If you'll redeem the silver cup

He keeps in pawn?"-" First, show him up." "Your dressing-plate he'll be content

To take, for interest cent. per cent.
And, madam, there's my Lady Spade,
Hath sent this letter by her maid."
"Well, I remember what she won;
And hath she sent so soon to dun?
Here, carry down those ten pistoles
My husband left to pay for coals:
I thank my stars, they all are light;
And I may have revenge to-night."
Now, loitering o'er her tea and cream,
She enters on her usual theme;

Her last night's ill success repeats,
Calls Lady Spade a hundred cheats:
"She slipped spadillo in her breast,
Then thought to turn it to a jest:
There's Mrs. Cut and she combine,
And to each other give the sign."
Through every game pursues her tale,
Like hunters o'er their evening ale.

SWIFT.

CATO'S SOLILOQUY ON THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL.

It must be so-Plato, thou reason'st well,
Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,
This longing after immortality?

Or whence this secret dread and inward horror

Of falling into nought? Why shrinks the soul
Back on herself, and startles at destruction?
-'Tis the Divinity that stirs within us,
"Tis heaven itself that points out an hereafter,
And intimates Eternity to man.

Eternity!-thou pleasing-dreadful thought!
Through what variety of untried being—

Through what new scenes and changes must we pass!
The wide, th' unbounded prospect lies before me;
But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it.
Here will I hold :-If there's a Power above us
(And that there is all nature cries aloud
Through all her works), he must delight in Virtue;
And that which he delights in must be happy:

But-when-or where?-This world was made for Cæsar. I'm weary of conjectures :-This must end them.

[Laying his hand on his sword.

Thus I am doubly armed; my death and life,

My bane and antidote, are both before me.
This in a moment brings me to an end,
But this informs me I shall never die.
The soul, secured in her existence, smiles
At the drawn dagger, and defies its point.
The stars shall fade away, the sun himself
Grow dim with age, and nature sink in years;
But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth,
Unhurt amid the war of elements,

The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds.

ADDISON.

THANKSGIVING HYMN.

How are thy servants blest, O Lord!

How sure is their defence!
Eternal wisdom is their guide,
Their help Omnipotence.

In foreign realms and lands remote,
Supported by thy care,

Through burning climes I passed unhurt,
And breathed the tainted air.

Thy mercy sweetened every toil,
Made every region please;
The hoary Alpine hills it warmed,

And smoothed the Tyrrhene seas.

Think, oh my soul, devoutly think,
How, with affrighted eyes,

Thou saw'st the wide extended deep
In all its horrors rise.

Confusion dwelt in every face,

And fear in every heart;

When waves on waves, and gulfs on gulfs,
O'ercame the pilot's art.

Yet then from all my griefs, O Lord,
Thy mercy set me free,

Whilst in the confidence of prayer,
My faith took hold on thee.

For, though in dreadful whirls we hung
High on the broken wave,

I knew thou wert not slow to hear,
Nor impotent to save.

The storm was laid, the winds retired,
Obedient to thy will;

The sea, that roared at thy command,
At thy command was still.

In midst of dangers, fears, and death,
Thy goodness I'll adore,

And praise thee for thy mercies past,
And humbly hope for more.

My life, if thou preserv'st my life,

Thy sacrifice shall be;

And death, if death must be my doom,

Shall join my soul to thee.

ADDISON.

PROVIDENCE.

THE Lord my pasture shall prepare,
And feed me with a shepherd's care;
His presence shall my wants supply,
And guard me with a watchful eye;
My noon-day walks He shall attend,
And all my midnight hours defend.

When in the sultry glebe I faint,
Or on the thirsty mountains pant,
To fertile vales and dewy meads,
My weary wandering steps He leads,
Where peaceful rivers, soft and slow
Amid the verdant landscape flow.

Though in the paths of death I tread,
With gloomy horrors overspread,
My steadfast heart shall fear no ill;
For thou, O Lord, art with me still :

Thy friendly crook shall give me aid,

And guide me through the dreadful shade.

Though in a bare and rugged way,

Through devious lonely wilds I stray,
Thy bounty shall my pains beguile;

The barren wilderness shall smile,

With sudden greens and herbage crowned,
And streams shall murmur all around.

ADDISON.

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