"Well, when I last seed him he was all skin and bone, like a horse turned out to die. He was teetotally defleshed, a mere walkin' skeleton. 'I am dreadful sorry,' says I, 'to see you, Banks, lookin' so peaked. Why, you look like a sick turkey-hen, all legs! What on airth ails you?' 'I'm dyin', says he, '_of a broken heart_.' 'What!' I says I, 'have the gals been jiltin' you?' 'No, no,' says he; 'I beant such a fool as that, neither.' 'Well,' says I, 'have you made a bad speculation?' 'No,' says he, shakin' his head, 'I hope I have too much clear grit in me to take on so bad for that.' 'What under the sun is it, then?' said I. 'Why,' says he, 'I made a bet the fore part of the summer with Leftenant Oby Knowles that I could shoulder the best bower of the Constitution frigate. I won my bet, _but the anchor was so etarnal heavy that it broke my heart_.' Sure enough, he did die that very fall; and he was the only instance I ever heard tell of a _broken heart_." ICARUS BY JOHN G. SAXE I All modern themes of poesy are spun so very fine, That now the most amusing muse, _e gratia_, such as mine, Is often forced to cut the thread that strings our recent rhymes, And try the stronger staple of the good old classic times. II There lived and flourished long ago, in famous Athens town, One _Daedalus_, a carpenter of genius and renown; ('Twas he who with an _auger_ taught mechanics how to _bore_,-- An art which the philosophers monopolized before.) III His only son was _Icarus_, a most precocious lad, The pride of Mrs. Daedalus, the image of his dad; And while he yet was in his teens such progress he had made, He'd got above his father's size, and much above his trade. IV Now _Daedalus_, the carpenter, had made a pair of wings, Contrived of wood and feathers and a cunning set of springs, By means of which the wearer could ascend to any height, And sail about among the clouds as easy as a kite! V "O father," said young _Icarus_, "how I should like to fly! And go like you where all is blue along the upper sky; How very charming it would be above the moon to climb, And scamper through the Zodiac, and have a high old time! VI "Oh wouldn't it be jolly, though,--to stop at all the inns; To take a luncheon at 'The Crab,' and tipple at 'The Twins'; And, just for fun and fancy, while careering through the air, To kiss the _Virgin_, tease the _Ram_, and bait the biggest _Bear_? VII "O father, please to let me go!" was still the urchin's cry; "I'll be extremely careful, sir, and won't go _very_ high; Oh if this little pleasure-trip you only will allow, I promise to be back again in time to fetch the cow!" VIII "You're rather young," said Daedalus, "to tempt the upper air; But take the wings, and mind your eye with very special care; And keep at least a thousand miles below the nearest star; Young lads, when out upon a lark, are apt to go too far!" IX