SONG.

Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,

The bridal of the earth and sky,

Sweet dews shall weep thy fall to-night,

For thou must die.

Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave,

Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye.

Thy root is ever in its grave,

And thou must die.

Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,

A box where sweets compacted lie,

My music shows you have your closes,

And all must die.

Only a sweet and virtuous soul,

Like seasoned timber never gives,

But when the whole world turns to coal,

Then chiefly lives.

Herbert.

Fear.—Charles Gustavus (the successor of Christina of Sweden) was besieging Prague, when a boor of most extraordinary visage desired admittance to his tent, and, being allowed entrance, offered, by way of amusing the king, to devour a whole hog, weighing two hundred weight, in his presence. The old General Konigsmarc, who stood by the king’s side, and who, soldier as he was, had not got rid of the prejudices of his childhood, hinted to his royal master that the peasant ought to be burnt as a sorcerer. “Sir,” said the fellow, irritated at the remark, “if your majesty will but make that old gentleman take off his sword and his spurs I will eat him before your face, before I begin the pig.” General Konigsmarc (who at the head of a body of Swedes had performed wonders against the Austrians, and who was looked upon as one of the bravest men of the age) could not stand this proposal, especially as it was accompanied by a most hideous and preternatural expansion of the frightful peasant’s jaws. Without uttering a word the veteran suddenly turned round, ran out of the court, and thought not himself safe until he had arrived at his quarters.

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