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Ned Farmer's Scrap Book.
31
Alike axe his vassals, the wise man and fool,
Each bows and submits, with delight, to his rule;
In his ranks, too, are number'd the slave and the free:
Then say,—are there any as potent as he?
Obey'd are his mandates in hot climes as cold,
Then, hurrah! for the ruler of monarchs—King Gold!
Epitaph on a Drunkard.
Here lieth the body of one, who, for many years waged an unequal contest with the wine cup, until nature, (his best friend and backer,) seeing he only stood up to be punished, without a chance to win, kindly drew him.
The friends of a prosperous man, like the leaves of the summer tree, are many! Anon, the winter of misfortune comes, and lo! the leaves fall off!
