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THE BEAU AND THE BUTTERFLY.
WHEN summer deck'd each sylvan scene,
• And shall,' said he, this worthless thing, • That lives but on a summer's wing, • This flying worm, more gaudy shine,
And wear a dress more gay than mine? • Is this wise nature's equal care
To deck a Butterfly so fair,
• While man, her worthiest, greatest part, • Must wear the homely rags of art?'
Thus reason'd he, as reason Beaux, The subject of their logic cloaths : When thus the Butterfly replied, With deeper tints by anger dy'd; * Vain trifling mortal! could'st thou boast •What our Creator prizes most
On man bestow'd, thou would'st not see • With envy aught bestow'd on me. • This painted vestment, all my store, • Is giv'n, and I can claim no more. • But man, for greater ends design'd, • Should boast the beauties of the mind. * More bright than gold with wisdom shine, * And virtue's sacred charms be thine: * To rule the world by reason taught, • On dress disdain to wear a thought; • For he whom folly bends so low, * Ambitious to be thought aBeau, • Is studious only to be gay, • In toilet-arts consumes the day; . And, the long trifling labours o'er, • Takes wing, and bids the world adore ; * Looks down with scorn on rival flies, • Himself less splendid, and less wise ; • With scorn, his scorn return'd again, • Proud insect! impotently vain! • The fool, who thus by self is prizid, * By others justly is despis'd.'
She said, and flutter'd round on high, Nor staid to hear the Beau's reply.
THE PHILOSOPHER AND THE GLOW-WORM. WHEN toilsome hours of day were spent, The world seem'd wrapt in calm content, Each anxious care forsook the breast, Sleep gently clos'd each eye to rest, Cynthia her brightest aspect wore, And Heav'n's expanse was studded o'er,' A Sage, by, meditation drawn, Forsook his cot, and sought the lawn; . In contemplation deep he stray'd, And nature's dozing charms survey'd; On either hand new beauties view'd, As he his tranquil walk pursu'd. By chance, a Glow-Worm, in his way, Shone forth his little glittring ray, Proudly unfolding ev'ry grace, As trailing round from place to place ; Illumining the moss-fring'd plain, On other worms he look'd disdain. The Sage with philosophic eye, Survey'd the wand'rer crawling by: .
Then stooping low, with gentle hand,
So 'tis with all ambition's race, • Who fill up each exalted place: • Brilliant they shine with borrow'd ray, * And wanton in the blaze of day, • Until the wheel again turns round, * And leaves them where they first were found."
The Glow-Worm with attention heard, And weigh'd with prudence ev'ry word, Form'd bright his little lamp again, And shone more beauteous o'er the plain; Then thus address'd the wond'ring sage, The known Philosopher of th' age: . Know thou, the happy pow'r to shine • Is truly man's as well as mine; “I know my sphere, did he the same, " He'd tread that path that leads to fame ;
• Did he in dang'rous times retire, * And check with care ambition's fire, • Like me he might new lustre spread,
And deck with laurels fresh his head. • But coxcomb like, he's led astray • To shine, and shines but for a day.'
THE FOUR BULLS.
FRIENDSHIP! source of purest bliss,
Since dangers rise with every sun,