RIDDLES.

“I

Or

Yet I am used to give the wretched rest,
And of its burden ease the woe-fraught breast.
My birth is various, but in ev’ry land

I still can bear the ensign of command.
Silent, I speak; my voice in every clime

Is heard, and shall be to remotest time.
Honour and praise of right to me belong;
Tis I immortalize the poet’s song;

Tis I that can transmit the patriot’s name,
Sacred to ages, on the lists of fame:

Yet short my date of life, however high;
Soon I’m worn out, and then neglected die.

 

RIDDLE CLVII.

’M a term often used when speaking of game,
Though some of my brothers might answer the
same}
Now, if with a stroke you my head should remove,
You'll then have what gamesters and all jockeys love:
Strike off one joint more, and you'll know without fail,
What has brought many hundreds, J fear, to the jail.