_A._ What is it that, while young, is plump and heavy, But, being full grown, is light, and wingless mounts Upon the courier winds, and foils the sight? _B._ The THISTLE'S BEARD; for this at first sticks fast To the green seed, which, ripe and dry, falls off Upon the cradling breeze, or, upwards puff'd By playful urchins, sails along the air.—J. A. ST. JOHN. * * * * * ANTIPHANES. (Book x. § 73, p. 711.) There is a female which within her bosom Carries her young, that, mute, in fact, yet speak, And make their voice heard on the howling waves, Or wildest continent. They will converse Even with the absent, and inform the deaf.—J. A. ST. JOHN. _The same._ Know'st thou the creature, that a tiny brood Within her bosom keeps securely mew'd? Though voiceless all, beyond the ocean wide To distant realms their still small voices glide. Far, far away, whome'er t' address they seek Will understand, yet no one hears them speak.—F. METCALFE. * * * * * THEODECTES. (Book x. § 75, p. 713.) A thing whose match, or in the depths profound Of ocean, or on earth, can ne'er be found; Cast in no mortal mould its growth of limb Dame Nature orders by the strangest whim. 'Tis born, and lo! a giant form appears; Toward middle age a smaller size it wears; And now again, its day of life nigh o'er, How wonderful gigantic as before.—F. METCALFE. * * * * * THEODECTES. (Book x. § 75, p. 713.) We're sisters twain, one dying bears the other: She too expires, and so brings forth her mother.—F. METCALFE. * * * * * XENOPHANES. (Book xi. § 7, p. 729.)