364

JJKATH S DOINGS.

THE BACCHANALIANS.

Tho' Bacchanals boast of their ivy-crowu'd god,And sing of the bright sparkling glass,

With the juice of the grape, how they hiccup andnod,—How it likens a man to an ass !

The balm of the bottle, they say, lightens care,—

But far more it lightens the purse;While it brings to its vot'ry a load of despair,

It brings, too, his heaviest curse—

The groans of the parent, the child, or the wife,

Who famish while Bacchanals swill!Then say, can you blame me for taking the life

Of such as so recklessly kill ?

THE HUNTER.

The fearless Hunter took his dangerous leap;For though I warn'd, he held my warning cheap.At length he fell—another fill'd his place,And, like him, heedless, follows in the chase.