swells, and then is once more lean, As surely as the month comes round; With Madame Ramler 'tis the same, I ween—     But she to need more time is found! The moon to love her silver-horns is said, But makes a sorry show; She likes them on her husband's head,—     She's right to have it so 

           KLOPSTOCK AND WIELAND.     (WHEN THEIR MINIATURES WERE HANGING SIDE BY SIDE.)     In truth, when I have crossed dark Lethe's river, The man upon the right I'll love forever, For 'twas he first that wrote for me. For all the world the left man wrote, full clearly, And so we all should love him dearly; Come, left man! I must needs kiss thee! 

        THE MUSES' REVENGE. AN ANECDOTE OF HELICON. Once the nine all weeping came To the god of song    "Oh, papa!" they there exclaim—     "Hear our tale of wrong!     "Young ink-lickers swarm about Our dear Helicon; There they fight, manoeuvre, shout, Even to thy throne.     "On their steeds they galop hard To the spring to drink, Each one calls himself a bard—     Minstrels—only think!     "There they—how the thing to name! Would our persons treat—    This, without a blush of shame, We can ne'er repeat;     "One, in front of all, then cries,     'I the army lead!'    Both his fists he wildly plies, Like a bear indeed!     "Others wakes he in a trice With his whistlings rude; But none follow, though he twice Has those sounds renewed.     "He'll return, he threats, ere long, And he'll come no doubt! Father, friend to lyric song, Please to show him out!"     Father Phoebus laughing hears The complaint they've brought;    "Don't be frightened, pray, my dears, We'll soon cut them short!     "One must hasten to hell-fire, Go, Melpomene! Let a fury borrow lyre, Notes, and dress, of thee.     "Let her meet, in this array, One of these vile crews, As though she had lost her way, Soon as night ensues.     "Then with kisses dark, I trust, They'll the dear child greet, Satisfying their wild lust Just as it is meet!"—     Said and done!—Then one from hell Soon was dressed aright. Scarcely had the prey, they tell, Caught the fellow's sight, Than, as kites a pigeon follow, They attacked her straight—    Part, not all, though, I can swallow Of what folks relate. If fair boys were 'mongst the band, How came they to be—    This I cannot understand,—     In such company? . . . . . The goddess a miscarriage had, good lack! And was delivered of an—Almanac! 

        THE HYPOCHONDRIACAL PLUTO. A 

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