. Christmas cheer [electronic resource]: in three courses, more than ordinary ones, and where every guest will get his dessert, and a taste of those choice spirits, "that cheer but not inebriate," . /?V Sartorius, the tailor, quits his shop, and leaves a while His Roman Gents New Togas—ready-made, the latest style, And joins a few Quirites now assembling in dismay, Who prove by their loud wailings that there is old Dis to pay. What—whats the row? a Tribune asks. Some subterraneous shake Has split the centre of the earth, and caused a mighty quake. Before the incensed Oracle a priest its warnin
. Christmas cheer [electronic resource]: in three courses, more than ordinary ones, and where every guest will get his dessert, and a taste of those choice spirits, "that cheer but not inebriate," . /?V Sartorius, the tailor, quits his shop, and leaves a while His Roman Gents New Togas—ready-made, the latest style, And joins a few Quirites now assembling in dismay, Who prove by their loud wailings that there is old Dis to pay. What—whats the row? a Tribune asks. Some subterraneous shake Has split the centre of the earth, and caused a mighty quake. Before the incensed Oracle a priest its warning bides, W hite to the gaze as cygnets plume—as downy, too, besides. For since the March of Intellect, the merest dolt believes Those Flamens of the Oracles were nought but thundring thieves A first-rate pack of artful cards, who, when they chose to play, Dealt out the honours where they chose—shuffled, and cut away. Stop all your jaws, the soothsayer cries, this gulf will never close Until within it are entombd the rarest things Rome knows ; Seek them forthwith, nor waste your time in vain and useless fear, And see no rubbish be pickd out—it may not be shot <&r~ VJ A DOWL OF II. Thi-n up sprang ^fareus Curtius, and thus spoke. My bricks dont funkAt what I in puing l say—I am no! either mad or dont you know how bravery, with trusty arms rombind,Must in1 the things most precious amongst us you can think no small her of myself, which yon may plainly sec,(Ine me a horsr—not worth too much—and leave the rest to he vaulted on his sIcliI—a sorry sort of knack,Because tin- owner felt convinced he neer should see it spur and whip he plied to reach the borders of the pit,Hut thence tin horse refused to budge an atom—deuce a bit! The lickd him with their sticks—by Romans fasces calld—And rattled potsherds in his ears, and cried (ice! gee! and hawldThe Tribunes pushed his haunches, and a crowd o
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Keywords: ., bookauthorbrowneha, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1850, bookyear1856
