THE CATASTROPHE.

THESE LINES, ACCOMPANIED BY A Fox's BRUSH, WERE SENT TO

TWO LADIES, FROM WHOSE AVIARY A FOX HAD STOLEN A PAIR

OF BEAUTIFUL PHEASANTS.

Two beauteous pheasants lived secure,

Beneath their patrons' care;
Who from all ills the birds to insure,

Made them a dwelling fair.

Here long they dwelt in peace, and showed

Their plumage rich and skeen;
Which in the solar radiance glowed,

With golden tints and green.

The maidens fair, who joyous owned

The beauteous feathered pair, Beheld their utmost wishes crowned

Each day they grew more fair.

But ah! malignant stars prevail

The birds are stolen away,
And their reft patrons left to wail,

The ever mournful day.

Some demon in a fox's form,

Approached their cage to view, And soon began the place to storm

This done—the birds he slew !

A bard, who heard the tidings dire,

And felt the tale of woe, Indignant tuned his wrathful lyre,

To curse the dastard foe!

“ Ruin seize thee, ruthless" fox!
Sorrow all thy steps pervade!
Mayst thou enter soon the box,
By the wily hunters laid !

When pursued by horse and hound,
Scared by joyous “tallyhoes !"
Vain shall all thy arts be found,
Thou shalt fall beneath thy foes !

Tyrant! when the canine fangs,
Firm thy trembling body grasp,
And o'er thee sure destruction hangs,
Think upon thy victims' gasp !

Think
upon

their shrieks and cries,
When thou rushedst to their cage!
Think upon their agonies,
When they fell beneath thy rage!

Thou shalt also cry in vain,
When the foes upon thee rush !
Nor of thy corse shall aught remain,
To tell thy fate except the brush.

The deed is done-the deed predicted!
Vengeance due bath been inflicted !
When was angry bard's prediction,
Ever known to prove a fiction ?
Ever known his curse to fail ?.
Lo! you have the tyrant's tail.

IMPROMPTU,

ON HEARING THE CLERK OF A COUNTRY PARISH ANNOUNCE A

FURTHER ASSESSMENT, AND IMMEDIATELY ADD, COME,
LET US SING," &c.

FARMERS.

How canst thou think to make us sing

With any real delight,
When thus proclaiming evil news

To make our pockets light?

CLERK.

I'll tell you—on this solemn day,

A solemn tune I crave;
And when I say, there's cash to pay,
: You always sing so grave.