FOR MY OWN MONUMENT. As doctors give physic by way of prevention, Matt, alive and in health, of his tombstone took care; Yet credit but lightly what more may be said, For we flatter ourselves, and teach marble to lie. For delays are unsafe, and his pious Yet counting so far as to fifty his [heir. intention May haply be never fulfilled by his Then take Matt's word for it, the sculptor is paid, That the figure is fine, pray believe your own eye; years, Nor to business a drudge, nor to faction a slave, He strove to make int'rest and freedom agree; In public employments industrious and grave, And alone with his friends, Lord! how merry was he. Now in equipage stately, now humbly on foot, Both fortunes he tried, but to neither would trust; And whirled in the round as the wheel turned about, He found riches had wings, and knew man was but dust. This verse, little polished, though mighty sincere, Sets neither his titles nor merits to view; It says that his relics collected lie here, And no mortal yet knows if this may be true. Fierce robbers there are that infest the highway, So Matt may be killed, and his bones never found; False witness at court, and fierce tempests at sea, So Matt may yet chance to be hanged or be drowned. The morning past, the evening came, Why,then they walked and ate again; Their moral and economy So every servant took his course, Their meal was large, their grace was They gave the poor the remnant meat, Of slumbering in an upper pew. If his bones lie in earth, roll in sea, So never made themselves a foe. fly in air, To Fate we must yield, and the thing is the same; And if passing thou giv'st him a smile or a tear, He cares not-yet, prithee, be kind to his fame. AN EPITAPH. No man's good deeds did they com Your stomach makes the fabric roll Observe the various operations JOHN GODFREY SAXE. HOW CYRUS LAID THE CABLE. COME, listen all unto my song It is no silly fable; 'Tis all about the mighty cord They call the Atlantic Cable. Bold Cyrus Field, he said, says he, Across the Atlantic Ocean. Then all the people laughed, and said, To carry out his foolish plan He never would be able; He might as well go hang himself But Cyrus was a valiant man, A fellow of decision: And heeded not their mocking words, Their laughter and derision. O'er all the land the tidings speed, And soon, in every nation, They'll hear about the cable with Profoundest admiration! Now long live President and Queen; And may we honor evermore The manly, bold, and stable; And tell our sons, to make them brave, How Cyrus laid the cable! THE SUPERFLUOUS MAN. I LONG have been puzzled to guess, But now it is perfectly clear, I am under a natural ban; The girls are already assigned, And I'm a superfluous man! Those clever statistical chaps Declare the numerical run Of women and men in the world, Is twenty to twenty-and-one; And hence in the pairing, you see, Since wooing and wedding began, For every connubial score, They've got a superfluous man! By twenties and twenties they go, It isn't that I am a churl, To solitude over-inclined; THE PUZZLED CENSUS-TAKER. "GOT any boys?" the Marshal said To a lady from over the Rhine; And the lady shook her flaxen head, And civilly answered "Nein!* "Got any girls ?" the Marshal said To the lady from over the Rhine; And again the lady shook her head, And civilly answered, "Nein!" "But some are dead ?" the Marshal said, To the lady from over the Rhine; And again the lady shook her head, And civilly answered, "Nein!" Nein, pronounced nine, is the German for "No." 66 Husband, of course?" the Marshal said To the lady from over the Rhine; And again she shook her flaxen head, And civilly answered, "Nein!" "The devil you have!" the Marshal said To the lady from over the Rhine: And again she shook her flaxen head, And civilly answered, "Nein!" "Now what do you mean by shaking your head, And always answering, 'Nine'?" "Ich kann nicht Englisch!" civilly said The lady from over the Rhine. SONG OF SARATOGA. "PRAY, what do they do at the Springs ?" The question is easy to ask; But to answer it fully, my dear, Were rather a serious task. And yet, in a bantering way, As the magpie or mocking-bird sings, I'll venture a bit of a song To tell what they do at the Springs! Imprimis, my darling, they drink The waters so sparkling and clear; Though the flavor is none of the best, And the odor exceedingly queer; But the fluid is mingled, you know, With wholesome medicinal things, So they drink, and they drink, and they drink, And that's what they do at the Then with appetites keen as a knife, Ye gods! what a rustle and rush Then they eat, and they eat, and they eat, And that's what they do at the Springs! |