Tf\E ~ VOL. XIII.
VIA TORIAN. w JANUARY, 189~.
NO. 5
LEROY EST MORT-VIVE: LEROY. The b!'>lls are sadly tolling, T .b.e kiag In pain doth writhe, On bed of death he's moani.n g, 路 Old, wrinkled Ninety-five. His courtiers who oft drank his wlne And sought before his face to shine, Now leave hilli all alone to pine, And with grim death to strive:
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But one old sage remaining, 'Tis hoary Father Time, Who hears "!;be king's complaining, Nor gives him look benign. "I gave thee all,'' the sage exclaims, ''But thou unjustly used the g'ains, Gave life to some, to others chains, 'Tis tii:ne thou shouldst resig-n." "'Tis true," the king said sadly, "And count it to my shame, I oftimes acted ,madly, Not treating all the same. But some would always have their way, And recognize. but passion's sway; I'll meet them on their judgment day, And stand again~t their name." "Ah, mel What's this new danger, When purple grows his lips, And on a yoathful stranger His glassy eyes doth fix. Full soon the bells the tidings. fling, Time gives the stranger crown and ring. The king is dead; long live the king, Our youthful Ninety-six. J . H . N.