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His tandem auxiliis ita res procedit, ut omnes

Ad numeros ingens perficiatur opus.

Quæ tanti ingenii, quæ tanti est summa laboris? Si mihi respondes Edipe, tota tua est.

AN ENIGMA.

A NEEDLE small, as small can be,

In bulk and use, surpasses me,

Nor is my purchase dear;

For little, and almost for nought,

As

many of my kind are bought
As days are in the year.

Yet though but little use we boast,

And are procur'd at little cost,

The labour is not light;

Nor few artificers it asks,

All skilful in their sev'ral tasks,

To fashion us aright.

One fuses metal o'er the fire,

A second draws it into wire,

The shears another plies,

Who clips in lengths the brazen thread

For him, who, chafing every shred,
Gives all an equal size.

A fifth prepares, exact and round,

The knob, with which it must be crown'd;

His follower makes it fast:

And with his mallet and his file

To shape the point, employs awhile
The seventh and the last.

Now therefore, Edipus! declare

What creature, wonderful, and rare,
A process, that obtains

Its purpose with so much ado,

At last produces !—tell me true,
And take me for your pains!

PASSERES INDIGENE

COL. TRIN. CANT. COMMENSALES.

INCOLA qui nôrit sedes, aut viserit hospes,
Newtoni egregii quas celebravit honos;
Viditque et meminit, lætus fortasse videndo,
Quam multa ad mensas advolitârit avis.

Ille nec ignorat, nidos ut, vere ineunte,
Tecta per et forulos, et tabulata struat.
Ut coram educat teneros ad pabula fœtus,
Et pascat micis, quas det amica manus.
Convivas quoties campanæ ad prandia pulsus

Convocat, haud epulis certior hospes adest. Continuo jucunda simul vox fertur ad aures, Vicinos passer quisque relinquit agros, Hospitium ad notum properatur; et ordine

stantes

Expectant panis fragmina quisque sua.

Hos tamen, hos omnes, vix uno largior asse

Sumptus per totam pascit alitque diem.

Hunc unum, hunc modicum (nec quisquam inviderit assem)

Indigenæ, hospitii jure, merentur aves.

SPARROWS SELF-DOMESTICATED

IN TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.

NONE ever shar'd the social feast,

Or as an inmate, or a guest,
Beneath the celebrated dome,

Where once Sir Isaac had his home,
Who saw not (and with some delight
Perhaps he view'd the novel sight)
How num'rous, at the tables there,
The sparrows beg their daily fare.
For there, in every nook and cell,
Where such a family may dwell,

Sure as the vernal season comes

Their nests they weave in hope of crumbs, Which kindly giv'n, may serve with food Convenient their unfeather'd brood;

And oft as with its summons clear

The warning bell salutes their ear,
Sagacious list'ners to the sound,

They flock from all the fields around,
To reach the hospitable hall,

None more attentive to the call.

Arriv'd, the pensionary band,

Hopping and chirping, close at hand,

Solicit what they soon receive,

The sprinkled, plenteous donative.
Thus is a multitude, though large,
Supported at a trivial charge;
A single doit would overpay

Th' expenditure of every day,
And who can grudge so small a grace

To suppliants, natives of the place?

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