The Body's beauty dwells in shape , and face ,
The soul's , in mildness, modesty, and grace;
The first but charms an earthly lover's eye,
The last draws angels, from beyond the sky;
One , for a moment, man's frail heart procures,
The other makes your God , for ever, yours .

Suppose, that the sun had a tongue , and shou'd say,
May your journey be bless'd, with a very fine day:
Then, withdrawing his face , slip aside, with his light ,
And surround me, at once, with the coldness of night ;
What would Florimel say, to this trick of the sun?
I would say, cry'd the charmer , 'twas cruelly done.
Would you so, answer'd I? — have a care what you own ,
Who have wish'd me all blessings, yet granted me none .

While the way of the world is, to keep all the best,
And then, in due form, oblige friends , with the rest,
You, Madam, who would lend, ev'n trifles, a grace ,
Teach your meanings to borrow a smile , from your face;
And, polite, to your pain , when a present you send,
Give the thorn to yourself, and the rose to your friend.

And why, fair Trifler , does that meaning eye
Smile, in contempt , when lovers swear they die?
'Twixt death , and love , but one small diff'rence lies,
The soul , in both , from its left body flies:
In death , 'tis gone, like smoak , dissolv'd in air,
Lost, in expance, the loser knows not where:
In love , we trace it, with such willing pain ,
'Twere to die twice , to take it back again.

FROM THE GREEK OF AGATHIAS .

Why shrink at Death, the end of all our woes —
Life's healer — mighty mother of repose?
If good, 'tis good for ever; but if ill,
It wounds but once, and then the pang is still.
Life's wan diseases strike us o'er and o'er;
The traveller of death returns no more!

One morning, just as Canon Gloy
Was starting gaily for the station,
The Doctor said: " Your eldest boy
Must have another operation! "
" What! " cried the Canon. " Not again?
That's twice he's made me miss my train! "

Plain, modest, pleasant, deep, distinct, and clear,
The author's honest soul was printed, here;
His faithful memory past scenes surveys,
His sparkling fancy , on their surface, plays:
Strong understanding adds reflection's weight,
And all draw purpose, from his manly heart .

Late last night I slew my wife,
Stretched her on the parquet flooring;
I was loth to take her life,
But I had to stop her snoring!

During dinner at the Ritz,
Father kept on having fits,
And, which made my sorrow greater,
I was left to tip the waiter.

Into your hands, a dumb dead likeness take,
Whose form you quicken'd , and whose soul you make .
Mine was a painted fire — your piercing rays
Lent light'ning ; and effulg'd it into blaze .
Now, on a shelf, some silent nook impart
To him, you've loudly lodg'd on ev'ry heart .