RIDDLES, oT

RIDDLE CXIX.
(THE gate of life, th’ effect of strife,
The fruit of sin,
When I appear you drop a tear,
And stay within.

 

RIDDLE CXx,

AM alittle saucy thing,
Made up of seven letters;
Within my tail I hold a sting,
And often bite my betters.

 

RIDDLE CXXI.

F* heavenly origin, to earth I came,
To solace human kind;
The cement of each social frame,
Balm to the wounded mind.

So loved, so valued through the world,
That dark pretenders take

My form, with colours false unfurl’d,
For gain or mischief’s sake.