Khemnitzer.

Whate’er thou purposest to do, With an unwearied zeal pursue; To-day is thine—improve to-day, Nor trust to-morrow’s distant ray. A certain man a house would build, The place is with materials fill’d; And every thing is ready there— Is it a difficult affair? Yes! till you fix the corner stone; It won’t erect itself alone. Day rolls on day, and year on year, And nothing yet is done— There’s always something to delay The business to another day. And thus in silent waiting stood The piles of stone and piles of wood; Till Death, who in his vast affairs Ne’er puts things off—as men in theirs— And thus, if I the truth must tell, Does his work finally and well— Winked at our hero as he past, “Your house is finish’d, Sir, at last; A narrower house—a house of clay— Your palace for another day!”

So goes the world:—if wealthy, you may call This friend, that brother;—friends and brothers all: Though you are worthless—witless—never mind it; You may have been a stable-boy—what then? ’Tis wealth, good Sir, makes honourable men. You seek respect, no doubt, and you will find it. But if you are poor, heaven help you! though your sire Had royal blood within him, and though you Possess the intellect of angels too, ’Tis all in vain;—the world will ne’er inquire On such a score:—Why should it take the pains? ’Tis easier to weigh purses, sure, than brains. I once saw a poor devil, keen and clever, Witty and wise:—he paid a man a visit, And no one noticed him, and no one ever Gave him a welcome. “Strange,” cried I, “whence is it?” He walked on this side, then on that, He tried to introduce a social chat; Now here, now there,—in vain he tried; Some formally and freezingly replied, And some Said by their silence—“Better stay at home.” A rich man burst the door, As Crœsus rich I’m sure, He could not pride himself upon his wit Nor wisdom—for he had not got a bit: He had what’s better;—he had wealth. What a confusion!—all stand up erect— These crowd around to ask him of his health; These bow in honest duty and respect; And these arrange a sofa or a chair, And these conduct him there. “Allow me, Sir, the honour;”—then a bow Down to the earth—Is’t possible to show Meet gratitude for such kind condescension? The poor man hung his head, And to himself he said, “This is indeed beyond my comprehension:” Then looking round One friendly face he found, And said—“Pray tell me why is wealth preferr’d To wisdom?”—“That’s a silly question, friend!” Replied the other—“Have you never heard, A man may lend his store Of gold or silver ore, But wisdom none can borrow, none can lend?”

A lion held a court for state affairs: Why? That is not your business, Sir, ’twas theirs! He called the elephants for counsellors—still The council-board was incomplete; And the king deemed it fit With asses all the vacancies to fill. Heaven help the state—for lo! the bench of asses The bench of elephants by far surpasses. He was a fool—the foresaid king—you’ll say; Better have kept those places vacant surely, Than fill them up so poorly. O no! that’s not the royal way; Things have been done for ages thus—and we Have a deep reverence for antiquity: Nought worse, Sir, than to be, or to appear Wiser and better than our fathers were. The list must be complete, even though you make it Complete with asses; for the lion saw Such had for ages been the law— He was no radical to break it! “Besides,” he said, “my elephants’ good sense Will soon my asses’ ignorance diminish, For wisdom has a mighty influence.” They made a pretty finish! The asses’ folly soon obtained the sway; The elephants became as dull as they!

I saw a long, long train Of many a loaded, lumbering wain; And one there was of most gigantic size, It look’d an elephant midst a swarm of flies; It roll’d so proudly that a passenger Curiously asked—“Now what may that contain?” “Nothing but bladders, Sir!” Such masses (misnamed men!) are little rare, Inflated, bullying, proud, and full of—air.