Richmond Enquirer

THE ART OF BOOK-KEEPING.

Who has not seen, when at a public school,
How few can keep their books from being fool'd?
But what is strange, my 'Pope' is not with
himself;
To Will, that he lose, though
Intercommunicated,

lunoke,
Are angirdl
anslets-full
My little 'Suckling' in the Stare
that Koh
Is mank, to swell the razors
With literary hooks;

Tre
Who call and take some favorite
too,
veso,
"It was
mine
to lose-
But never read it through;
They thus complete their set at
Iron "Glover,'" what I cannot
rest
My frozen hands upon
Behold the book-shelf
By making one at you.

of •
Though over
"Prior,
ee, lost
my
dunce
My 'Bunyan' has been gone..
- Who borrow—never return;
You work, in twenty volumes,
Once
suppressed.
Lent out to twenty friends
My "Taylor" we must miss:
'For near my "Goldsmith" from or
Now take and novels you may
shut
In vain I strove 'Bayes,'
lost,
From view- "tis all in vain;
'Prior' sought, but could
not
They're gone-and though the
leaves are
"cut,"
They never "come again."
The 'Fool' so late to front;
"Lae:
From pamphlet foul I look R-
round.
Oh: where
was
my
'Birch
For truths
my tears are spilled:
Hunt?'
But when they take book that's
bound
I
tried to laugh, old Care to
tickle.
"'Tis surely
extra-quiet,
Yet could not 'Tickell' touch;
A circulating library
And then, alack! I missed my
'Mickle'
There's one odd volume
Is mine-my birds are flown;
Jolted to
And surely Mickle's much:
Like all the rest, alone.
'Tis quite enough
food,
my
sorrow to
My sorrows to excuse,
I, of my 'Spenser' quite barren,
Last winter sore
was
shaken
To think
'Reid,
I cannot
read
my
Or 'Lamb' I've but a
half,
quarter
Nor even use my
Turbots.
Nor could I save my 'Bacon,
To 'Lowth.'
Lo' 'Soul:' I turn my
head,
My "Hill" and "Hill"
Were level-
Exposed alike to old age;
J. M. it,
For since my 'Roger Ascham
But 'Moore"
was still the cry;
Jam,
And then, although I threw them
'Prit,
I ask 'em for my 'Rogers,
They swallowed up my 'Pye.'
There's sure an eye that marks
no wall
O'er every Thing, however slight
'They seized" now o'er airy tramp-
me;
Yet all unseen my 'Lily' fell—
The blossom and the Sparrow;
"It was taken in my 'Barrow.'
They snatched my
'Hogg
For' one night
They took my
'Home'—and
And pocketed my
'Campbell.'
Horne Tooke too;
And thus my treasures fit;
And then I saw last,
my
"Crabbe" at
last, when I would 'Hazlitt'
view,
Like parrot's, backward go
The trains that it has fit.
And now my life was ebbing fast,
Of course I lost my 'Rowe'
If words worth little,
"Words
worth" soon,
I went head into what balloon
If I survive its doom
My books
Lost
, their court had
How many a bard I doted on
And yet, with all my marvel-
ing, (on
Was
groomed!
• west
not—with
I found my 'Marvell' gone
My classics would not quite lie,
A thing so fondly hoped:
So "Sallust" served to knock me
down,
Like Doctor Primrose, I may
Which makes me thus a talk-
er;
"My
'Ivy' has eloped:"
And once,
while I was out of
town,
My life is wasting fast away—
Lawn,
Laughter from those shelves:
By 'Johnson' proved a Walk-
er.'
And though I have fixed lock
on "Gray,
While studying; O'er the fire one
day
There's gray upon my locks.
I'm far from 'Young'-am grow-
ing pale-
My
"Hobbes,' amidst the
smoke;
I see my 'Butler' fly;
They bore my 'Colman' clean
And when they ask about my
away,
all,
And carried off my 'Coke.'
"Tis 'Burton'! I reply
They still have made me slight
their more
returns,
Than Bramah's patent's worth;
And thus my griefs divide;
And now my losses I deplore
Without a 'Home' on earth.
For, oh! they've cured me of my
'Burns,
And eased my 'Akenside.'
If once a book you let them lift,
Another they conceal;
But all I think I shall not say,
For though I caught them steal-
ing Swift,'
For as they
never found me
As swiftly went my 'Steele,'
'Gay,
They've not left me
'Sterne
'Hope' is not now upon my shelf,
Where late he stood elated;
B.