[3]
Count the bees that on Hybla are playing,
Count the flowers that enamel its fields,
Count the flocks, etc.
[4]
Go number the stars in the heaven,
Count how many sands on the shore,
When so many kisses you've given,
I still shall be craving for more.
A SAD CASE.
"If it be the undergraduate season at which this _rabies
religiosa_ is to be so fearful, what security has Mr. Goulburn
against it at this moment, when his son is actually exposed to the
full venom of an association with Dissenters?"
--_The Times_, March 25.
How sad a case!--just think of it--
If Goulburn junior should be bit
By some insane Dissenter, roaming
Thro' Granta's halls, at large and foaming,
And with that aspect _ultra_ crabbed
Which marks Dissenters when they're rabid!
God only knows what mischiefs might
Result from this one single bite,
Or how the venom, once suckt in,
Might spread and rage thro' kith and kin.
Mad folks of all denominations
First turn upon their own relations:
So that _one_ Goulburn, fairly bit,
Might end in maddening the whole kit,
Till ah! ye gods! we'd have to rue
Our Goulburn senior bitten too;
The Hychurchphobia in those veins,
Where Tory blood now redly reigns;--
And that dear man who now perceives
Salvation only in lawn sleeves,
Might, tainted by such coarse infection,
Run mad in the opposite direction.
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