THE POET

Cried father Jove, go, mortals, go, And take possession of your own ; Amongst you share the earth below, I keep Olympus for n>y throne.

Away they went at his command, And the partition soon was made ; Thèse for their portion took the land, The others took the arts ^nd trade.

His goods or chattels each possess'd, The poet only ad no share; Sohe to Jove his prayer address'd, Nor Jove refused the poet's prayer.

« While lands or riches, said the bard,

» Are given to each mother's son,

» 1 think, great Jove, tis rather hard

» That I, thy worthiest child, hâve none. i>

« When each received his share, Jove cried, ul Jn» What wast thou doing on that day? *

<ï Sire, was singing, he replied, lua éuv dja » And men and gods admired ihe lay. d

a 1 sung thy praises to my lyre,

» Thy power and glory wilhoul end. »

« So be it, said ihe Olympian sire,

» But now départ in peace, my friend. »

« Leave wealth to every worthless lout : » They only care to raise a name, » A dinner thou may st go without :

D But thou shah hâve immortal famé. »

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