Our Jovial Star Reigned At His Birth.

On Rumor's Tongue Continual Slanders Ride.

Knavery's Plain Face Is Never Seen Till Used.

O For A Horse With Wings!

God Mark Thee To His Grace! Thou Was The Prettiest Babe That E'er I Nursed. And Might I Live To See Thee Married Once, I Have My Wish.

And, Looking On It With Lack-lustre Eye, Says Very Wisely, "it Is Ten O'clock: Thus We May See," Quoth He, "how The World Wags."