interesting to be neglected; and their oddity well entitles them to
the room they fill. The following poem is perfectly in the manner of
Elizabeth's age; and we have selected it as a seasonable dish for the
present number--trusting that its rich vein of humour may find a
kindred flow in the hearts of our readers.]


CARELESS CONTENT.


I am content, I do not care,
Wag as it will the world for me;
When fuss and fret was all my fare,
I got no ground as I could see:
So when away my caring went,
I counted cost, and was content.

With more of thanks and less of thought,
I strive to make my matters meet;
To seek what ancient sages sought,
Physic and food in sour and sweet:
To take what passes in good part,
And keep the hiccups from the heart.

With good and gentle humour'd hearts,
I choose to chat where'er I come,
Whate'er the subject be that starts:
But if I get among the glum,
I hold my tongue to tell the truth,
And keep my breath to cool my broth.