RIDDLES. 17

RIDDLE XXXI.

[N vain you struggle to regain me,
When lost, you never can obtain me ;

And yet, what’s odd, you sigh and fret,
Deplore my loss,-and have me yet,
And often using me quite ill,
And seeking ways your slave to kill,—
Then promising in future you
Will give to me the homage due.
Thus we go on froth year to year,—
My name pray let the party hear.

 

RIDDLE XXXII.

HRRE from the east arose the lamp of day,
Or Cynthia gilt the night with paler ray—

Ere earth was form’d, or ocean knew its place,

Long, long anterior to the human race, —

J did exist. In chaos I was found,

When awful darkness shed its gloom around.

In heaven I dwell, in those bright realms above,

And in the radiant ranks of angels move.

But when th’ Almighty, by his powerful call,

Made out of nothing this stupendous ball,