A AND his wife long years have lived apart,
And now that wife has given him a son.
Well, B can match that miracle in art;
He fathers verse, but has begotten none.

What Leda in another swan's embrace
Bore you these pages twain so like in face?
In Hierus a Pollux we behold,
Asylus wears the mien of Castor bold,
And both have Helen's beauty. Had they been
In Sparta when small gifts made Venus queen,
Paris had cried — " No Tyndaris I need:
I choose instead this double Ganymede."

You return me my bond for four thousand. 'twere better
To lend me a thousand and leave me your debtor.
You must find some one else to oblige in that way;
The money's my own which I cannot repay.

The feast you gave me cost but half a crown,
Yet I must call next day in proper trim
And walk before your chair through half the town
To call on ten old hags of aspect grim.
My toga's worn and shabby I admit,
But half a crown won't buy the like of it.

All round the vintage failed; upon the trade
Ruin marched quick — the saving rain yet quicker:
Logwood and Company I hear have made
A hundred hogsheads of their usual liquor.

DOCTOR H EROD when caught with a cup in his pocket
Said — " Wine does you harm; if you're wise, you will dock it."

You ask — " Has he any real name of his own,
This person you call Mr Algernon Brown"?
I'm damned if I know: call him Brown, my dear fellows:
I can't bear the blame of your friend's peccadilloes.

When Algernon Brown was a bachelor gay
He was put by the girls at the top of class A;
But his value has sadly decreased since he wed,
And now he appears at the bottom of Z.

To me 'tis filthy strychnine you dispense,
Then ask for wine! Why, damn your impudence!
In Homer, Glaucus for a crazy whim
Exchanges gold for bronze — am I like him?
Give a sweet draught to you and take instead
That bitter stuff? The fool is off his head.
Well take it then — but ere you drink it up
Pour a stiff dose of bromide in the cup!

Pour out six measures from the older cask;
Why dally so? Nay, pour the deathless wine.
" What holy name has letters six, you ask,
Save Caesar"? Aye my thought you can divine;
So in my wreath ten lovely roses twine
For him the builder of the Flavian fane
And give me kisses ten to be a sign
That as a god Sarmaticus doth reign.