THE CHINAMAN IN ROME.
In Rome I saw a stranger from Pekin:
Uncouth and heavy to his eye appeared
The mingled piles of old and modern time.
"Alas!" he said, what wretched taste is here!
When will they learn to stretch the airy roof
On light pilastered shafts of varnished wood—
Gain the fine sense, and educated eye,
Which only finds in lacquer, carvings quaint,
And variegated tintings, pure delight?"
Hearing these words, unto myself I said,
"Behold the type of many a moon-struck bard,
Who vaunts his tissue, woven of a dream,
'Gainst nature's tapestry, that lasts for aye,
Proclaims as sick the truly sound; and this,
That he, the truly sick, may pass for sound!"
PERFECT BLISS.
All the divine perfections, which whilere
Nature in thrift doled out 'mongst many a fair,
She showered with open hand, thou peerless one, on thee!
And she that was so wondrously endowed,
To whom a throng of noble knees were bowed,
Gave all—Love's perfect gift—her glorious self, to me!
PROVERBS.
A breach is every day,
By many a mortal stormed;
Let them fall in the gaps as they may,
Yet a heap of dead is ne'er formed.
