48

MONSIEUR KANIFERSTANE.

"Oh! oh" reply'd the marquis, "does it so?
To Monsieur Kaniferstane, lucky man!
The palace to be sure, lies rather low;

But, then, the size and grandeur of the plan!
I never saw a chateau on the Seine,
Equal to this of Monsieur Kaniferstane.”

While he thus spoke, the sailors anchor cast,
As the marquis descended on the quay,
He saw a charming frow that chanc'd to pass,
In liveliest bloom of youth and beauty gay,
Bedeck'd with all the Amsterdam parade

Of gold and silver, pearls and jewels rare;
On the marquis she much impression made;
His tender breast soon own'd a pleasing flame;
Stopping a passenger, he, bowing said,

"Monsieur, pray tell me who's that lovely dame?" The civil Dutchman bow'd to him again,

And gently answer'd, " Ik kan niet verstaan."

"What! Monsieur Kaniferstane's wife!" the mar-
quis cry'd,

"He who has got yon gay and sumptuous house!
Well! that some men have luck can 't be deny'd;
What! such an edifice, and such a spouse!
Ma foi! I think I never should complain,
Had I the lot of Monsieur Kaniferstane."

As on the morrow, through the streets he pass'd,
Gazing on the pretty sights about,

On a large open hall his sight he cast,

Where bustling crowds were going in and out. Joining the throng, he entrance soon obtain'd, And found the people much engaged to see The numbers which the blanks and prizes gain'd In their high mightinesses' lottery.

Some laugh'd, some wept, some groan'd, and some exclaim'd,

In all the spirit of true castle-builders, When, on a sudden, a loud voice proclaim'd

The sov'reign prize of twenty thousand guilders!

THE TOPER AND THE FLIES.

49

"And who," the marquis cry'd, to one close by, "Who has the luck this mighty prize to gain?" The man survey'd him with a doubtful eye,

And slowly answer'd, " Ik kan niet verstaan."

"What! Monsieur Kaniferstane got the prize!" The marquis cry'd, "he's lucky on my life; He who has got a house of such a size,

And such a garden, too, and such a wife! Diable! you may very well be vain,

With all these treasures, Monsieur Kaniferstane!"

A week or two elaps'd when, as he stray'd,
On novelty intent, he chanc'd to meet,
Adorn'd with solemn pomp and grave parade,
A sumptuous burial coming up the street:
"Monsieur," said he, as bowing to a baker,
Who left his shop the pageantry to see,
And just had nodded to the undertaker,

"Pray, Monsieur, whose grand burial may this be?" The baker, as he turn'd to shop again,

Reply'd most gravely, " Ik kan niet verstaan.

"Mon Dieu!" exclaim'd the marquis," what pity!
Monsieur Kaniferstane! what surprize!
He had the noblest palace in this city!

And such a wife! and such a glorious prize!
Alack! alack! good fortune smiles in vain;
So rest in peace, good Monsieur Kaniferstane!"

A

THE TOPER AND THE FLIES.

(PINDAR.)

GROUP of topers at a table sat,

With punch, that much regales the thirsty soul: Flies soon the party join'd, and join'd the chat, Humming, and pitching, round the mantling bowl.

F

50

THE PETTIFOGGER.

At length those flies got drunk; and for their sin,
Some hundreds lost their legs and tumbled in;
And sprawling 'midst the gulph profound,
Like Pharaoh and his daring host, were drown'd.

Wanting to drink-one of the men.

Dipp'd from the bowl the drunken host,

And drank-then, taking care that none were lost, He put in ev'ry mother's son agen.

Up jump'd the Bacchanalian crew, on this,
Taking it very much amiss-
Swearing, and in the attitude to smite:

"Lord! (cry'd the man, with gravely-lifted eyes) "Though I don't like to swallow flies, "I did not know but others might.”

THE PETTIFOGGER, OR FEE SIMPLE, Esa.

(FRENEAU.)

IN a town I could mention, a lawyer resided

As cunning as Satan, and fond of disputes;
In wrangles and quarrels he ever confided,
To keep on his docket a long string of suits.

Of little importance, nay, paltry and mean,
The matter contested, a pig or a hen;
But one thing he stuck to, he ever was seen
To have for his pleading just one pound ten.

With pleasure he saw that the quarrels increased,
Each day he had business from wranglesome men,
But all to the 'squire was a holiday feast

While he got his dear FER, the one pound ten.

A parchment, Caveto, hung up in his hall, Which cautioned the reader to read and attend,

That for one pound ten, he would quibble and brawl, Twist, lie, and do all things a cause to defend.

Sometimes when the limits of lots were disputed,

He would put all to rights in the turn of a straw; From the tenth of an inch he his pocket recruited, Til! he made the two parties curse lawyer and law.

Thus matters went on, and the lawyer grown rich, Fed high, and swilled wine till the dropsy began To bloat up his guts to so monstrous a pitch,.

You would hardly have known him to be the same

man.

At last he departed, and when he had died,
His worship arriving at Beelzebub's den;
How much is the entrance (demanded the guide?)
Old Devil made answer, ""TIS ONE POUND TEN."

PATIENCE.

'TWAS at some country place, a parson preaching, The virtue of long sufferance was teaching: And so pathetically did exhort

His list'ning congregation; and in short Discours'd so much of Job, and how he bore With such exceeding pleasantry his woes, Faith 'twas enough to make a man suppose Job wis'd for more.

Meaning, perhaps, that since 'tis plain,
How needlessly we grieve at pain;
How would it be if man

Pursu'd a different plan,

And were to laugh and treat the matter lightly;
And not, when tortur'd with the gout,

To make wry faces, roar and shout,

But look agreeable and sprightly.

50

THE PETTIFOGGER.

At length those flies got drunk; and for their sin,
Some hundreds lost their legs and tumbled in;
And sprawling 'midst the gulph profound,
Like Pharaoh and his daring host, were drown'd.

Wanting to drink-one of the men

Dipp'd from the bowl the drunken host,

And drank-then, taking care that none were lost, He put in ev'ry mother's son agen.

Up jump'd the Bacchanalian crew, on this,
Taking it very much amiss-

Swearing, and in the attitude to smite :
"Lord! (cry'd the man, with gravely-lifted eyes)
"Though I don't like to swallow flies,

"I did not know but others might.”

THE PETTIFOGGER, OR FEE SIMPLE, Esq.

(FRENEAU.)

IN a town I could mention, a lawyer resided

As cunning as Satan, and fond of disputes;
In wrangles and quarrels he ever confided,
To keep on his docket a long string of suits.

Of little importance, nay, paltry and mean,
The matter contested, a pig or a hen;
But one thing he stuck to, he ever was seen
To have for his pleading just one pound ten.

With pleasure he saw that the quarrels increased,
Each day he had business from wranglesome men,
But all to the 'squire was a holiday feast

While he got his dear FEE, the one pound ten.

A parchment, Caveto, hung up in his hall, Which cautioned the reader to read and attend.