And under that a sandy stratum,
Will offer at a little distance
An insurmountable resistance.

How strange! to find the labour done
Just as the _sand_ begins to _run_;
In general human projects drop,
Just when our _sand_ begins to _stop!_



ANACREONTIC.

"THE WISEST MEN ARE FOOLS IN WINE."


The wisest men are fools in wine,
Experience makes us think:
Its magic spells are so divine,
We reason--yet we drink!

How short's the longest life of man,
How soon its brightest laurels fade--
Then, as our life is but a span,
Let all its hours be joyous made.

Wine o'er the ardent restless mind
Entwines its poppy chain;
A solace, then, the wretched find.
In fictions of the brain.