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OR, THE PUPPET-SHEW.
Translated from the Latin of Addison.
To trivial wonders is my song confined,
Where gaping throngs admire the mimic feat,
At last the curtain slides, and straight all eyes
He, trusting in his size and unmatched force,
upon the earnest train,
Meantime, with various games, the common sort
gentry you behold
Yet clouds will rise, and mar this fairer light, For wars are known, fell wars and horrid fight. The savage band are up in arms; fierce blows Deform their seat, and break their soft repose. So faithless as the smiles of pleasure are ! So close the heel of joy is rubbed by care ! Now swords, now tubes with fetid sulphur prest, And gleam of iron, and lances in the rest, And dreadful clash ensue : the bars within Strain to the pressure and the hideous din ; While the touched nitre, with distracting sound, Spatters its fires and erring hisses round. Heaped is the floor with slain ; strewed round the stage Host lies on host, dire fruit of civil rage.
At length, when war has spent his frantic fires,
Thus'sad Tithonus changed his mighty trunk,
But now the lineage of this pigmy band, Their latent life, and the directing hand, I shall unfold. The workman shapes his wood Till, to the human mould, he has subdued His oak-born progeny; with strappings meet Arms to the shoulders binds, to the legs, feet; Limb suits to limb, and joint to joint inserts : Then fits small blocks, through which his hand exerts The easy weights. Thus, dexterous he employs The secret motion, and affords the voice. And now complete, each little puppet shews His lines of deep-trenched thought, and chisselled brows. They leap, they swing, act all their volant airs, And utter sounds compressed, and words 'not theirs
TO THE RIVER E *
Thou mountain stream, whose early torrent course
Hath many a drear and distant region seeri, Windest thy downward way with slacken'd force,
As with the journey thou had'st wearied been;
And all enamourd of these margins green,
Around the hazel banks that o'er thee lean:-
(Forgetful of life's dark and troublous hour)
Through scenes where Fancy frames her fairy bower,
But time and tide wait not-and I, like thee,