Where shall the student rest Whom the fates destine Old law-books to digest, That baffle all digesting? Where through tomes deep and dry Spreads the black letter, Where endless pages lie Genius to fetter. Eleu loro, Eleu loro, Toil "sans remitter." There, while the sun shines bright, In law-fogs he's buried; There too by candle light, On law points he's worried: There must he sit and read, Puzzled forever-- When shall his mind be freed? Never-more, never. Where shall the _lawyer_ rest? He the hors-pleader? With brass and blunders drest-- His client's misleader: In the lost lawsuit, Borne down by demurrer, Or forced to withdraw suit, Or quaking with terror. Eleu loro, Eleu loro, Fearing writ of error. His sham-pleas the court shall chide, Disgusted to see them; His warm blush the crowd deride Ere he can flee them; Blund'ring from bad to worse, Disgraced forever-- Clients shall fill his purse, Never! oh, never! For the Southern Literary Messenger. THE AGE OF REPTILES. Poets affect, that when the Earth was young All Nature's works were beautiful and bright, That Planets in their spheres harmonious sung Like Seraphs--joining in celestial flight; That flowers bloomed in one eternal spring, Scenting with luscious sweets the ambient air, That life was luxury, and pain a thing Not meant for man, but spirits of despair. Lady! it was not so--the world was rude-- Behold the proof in Mantell's strange narration:[1] Its form, and elements, and fabric crude, And REPTILES were the "Lords of the Creation:" O! ingrate man! bethink thee of thy fate, Had thy Creator called thee then to being And left thee to the chances of a fate Beyond all bearing--hearing--feeling--seeing! Then lumbered o'er the rugged Earth strange forms, Misshapen--huge--gigantic--living wonders-- Howling fit chorus to discordant storms, That, like a thousand Ætnas, crashed in thunders. Cleaving the dismal sky, with rushing sound Appalling monsters hurl their cumbrous length, And through the murky sea, in depths profound, Gambolled Leviathans in mighty strength. What thinks Philoclea of the pristine Earth? Believ'st thou Nature smiled at such beginning? If those huge occupants inclined to mirth, Their's was an age of awful ugly grinning! The seaman's figure of a seventy-four Showing her teeth--her guns in triple tiers-- Were no hyperbole in days of yore, Howe'er extravagant it now appears. [Footnote 1: See the Edinburg Philosophical Journal and the 21st No. of Silliman's Journal, for some account of the Geological Age of Reptiles, by Gideon Mantell, Esq. F.R.S. &c. &c.] For the Southern Literary Messenger. ANSWER To Willis's "They may talk of your Love in a Cottage."