In that uneasy close recess Couches a sleeping lioness; That next den holds a bear; the next A wolf, by hunger ever vext: There, fiercer from the keeper’s lashes, His teeth the fell hyena gnashes; That creature on whose back abound Black spots upon a yellow ground, A panther is--the fairest beast That haunteth in the spacious East: He underneath a fair outside Does cruelty and treachery hide. That catlike beast that to and fro Restless as fire does ever go, As if his courage did resent His limbs in such confinement pent, That should their prey in forest take, And make the Indian jungles quake, A tiger is. Observe how sleek And glossy smooth his coat; no streak On satin ever match’d the pride Of that which marks his furry hide. How strong his muscles! he with ease Upon the tallest man could seize; In his large mouth away could bear him, And into thousand pieces tear him: Yet cabin’d so securely here, The smallest infant need not fear. That lordly creature next to him A lion is. Survey each limb; Observe the texture of his claws, The massy thickness of those jaws; His mane that sweeps the ground in length, Like Samson’s locks, betokening strength. In force and swiftness he excels Each beast that in the forest dwells; The savage tribes him king confess Throughout the howling wilderness. Woe to the hapless neighbourhood When he is press’d by want of food! Of man, or child, or bull, or horse He makes his prey, such is his force. A waste behind him he creates, Whole villages depopulates; Yet here within appointed lines How small a grate his rage confines! This place, methinks, resembleth well The world itself in which we dwell. Perils and snares on every ground Like these wild beasts beset us round. But Providence their rage restrains, Our heavenly Keeper sets them chains; His goodness saveth every hour His darlings from the lion’s power. [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration: TIME SPENT IN DRESS] XIII In many a lecture, many a book, You all have heard, you all have read, That time is precious. Of its use Much has been written, much been said. There’s not a more productive source Of waste of time to the young mind Than dress; as it regards our hours, My view of it is now confined. Without some calculation, youth May live to age, and never guess That no one study they pursue Takes half the time they give to dress. Write in your memorandum book The time you at your toilette spend; Then, every moment which you pass Talking of dress with a young friend;