A lucky chance, that oft decides the fate Of mighty monarchs.

If the husband once give way To his wife's capricious sway, For his breeches he next day May go to whoop and holloa.

Base envy withers at another's joy, And hates that excellence it cannot reach.

Scroundrel maxim.

While I deduce, From the first note the hollow cuckoo sings, The symphony of spring.

Cruel as death, and hungry at the grave.