186 SELECT POSTRY Outcast alike of earth and sky, Useless to live, unknown to die.” It chanced to fall into the sea— And there an open shell received it And, after years, how rich was he Who from its prison-house relieved it! That drop of rain had formed a gem, Fit for a monarch’s diadem. S.C. Hall. THE FLY. PaitazeEz,! little buzzing fly, Eddying round my taper, why Is it that its quivering light, Dazzling, captivates your sight ? Bright my taper is, 'tis true, Trust me, tis too bright for you ‘Tis a flame—vain thing, beware ! *Tis a flame you cannot bear. Touch it, and ’tis instant fate ; Take my counsel ere too late: Buzz no longer round and round, Settle on the wall or ground: Sleep till morn ; at daybreak rise, Danger then you may despise, Enjoying in the sunny air The life your caution now may spare. Lo! my counsel nought avails ; Round and round and round it sails ; 1 Prithee—I pray thee.