Till Plato, trembling for his own philosophy,
And calmly praying patience of the court,
Took up the cabbage and adjourn'd the cause.
Cumberland.
Euripides. (Book ii. § 57, p. 101.)
Bright wanderer through the eternal way,
Has sight so sad as that which now
Bedims the splendour of thy ray,
E'er bid the streams of sorrow flow?
Here, side by side, in death are laid
Two darling boys, their mother's care;
And here their sister, youthful maid,
Near her who nursed and thought them fair.
J. A. St. John.
Menander. (Book ii. § 86, p. 119.)
A bore it is to take pot-luck, with welcome frank and hearty,
All at the board round which is placed a downright family-party.
Old daddy seizes first the cup, and so begins his story,
And lectures on, with saws and jokes—a Mentor in his glory.
The mother next, and grandam too, confound you with their babble;
And worse and worse, the grandam's sire will mump, and grunt, and gabble;
His daughter with her toothless gums, lisps out, "The dear old fellow!"
And round and round the dotard nods, as fast as he grows mellow.—Anon.
The same.
From family repasts,
Where all the guests claim kin,—nephews and uncles,
And aunts and cousins to the fifth remove!
First you've the sire, a goblet in his hand,
And he deals out his dole of admonition;—
Then comes my lady-mother, a mere homily
Reproof and exhortation!—at her heels
