Jenks's Portland Gazette

Poetry.

ENIGMA OR RIDDLE.

Before creating Nature will'd,
That atoms into form should jar,
By me the boundless space was fill'd;
On me was hung the first-made star,
For me the saint will break his word:
By the proud Atheist I'm rever'd;
At me the coward draws his sword,
And by the hero I am fear'd.
Scorn'd by the meek and humble mind,
Yet often by the vain possess'd;
Heard by the deaf, seen by the blind,
And to the troubled conscience rest:
Than wisdom's sacred self I'm wiser,
And yet by every blockhead known;
I'm freely given by the miser,
Kept by the prodigal alone.
A vice deform'd, as virtue fair,
The courtier's loss, the patriot's gains,
The poet's pure, the coxcomb's care;-
Read--and you'll have me for your pains.

The following Solution of the above, was communicated for this Gazette.

BEFORE creating Nature will'd
The atoms into form should jar;
By Naught the boundless space was fill'd;
On Naught was hung the first made star,
For Naught the Saint will break his word;
Naught by the Atheist is rever'd;
At Naught the Coward draws his sword,
And by the Hero Nothing's fear'd.
Naught is scorn'd by a humble mind
And Naught is by the vain possess'd:
The deaf hears Naught, nor sees the blind;
Naught gives the troubled conscience rest.
Naught than Wisdom's self is wiser,
And Nothing's by the Blockhead known
Nothing's given by the Miser;
Nothing the Prodigal will own.
There's Nothing more deform'd than Vice;
And Virtue is a lovely fair;
The Poet's Nothing in his purse;
There's Nothing worth the Coxcomb's care.
The Courtier meets with little loss
The Patriots will Nothing gain:-
Read, and in me you'll find a cross,
For you'll have Nothing for your pains.