RIDDLES. 11

One only language I can talk, yet should

In every country be understood.

Unless peculiarly inspired, I’m dumb 3.

I know not what is past, nor what’s to come.
What I said yesterday, to-day is new,
And will be so to-morrow, yet be true,

 

RIDDLE XX.
HAT? is that syren, whose enchanting song
Draws the unthinking multitude along ;
That feeds, with faithless hopes and luring bait,
The poor deluded wretch she means to cheat ?
Men call her false, inconstant, cruel, vain,—
Yet seek her favours with unwearied pain :
Tl’ unhappy bear her frowns, still led away
With éxpectation of a better day ;
The ambitious court her smiles :—only the wise
Both her and all her gilded pomp despise ;
Her fairy kingdom, her fantastic good,
Remote, alluring ; ; nothing, nearer view’d.

 

RIDDLE XXI.
IRST I may be your servant’s name;
Then your desires I may proclaim;