Cnjrib aitb % gial. 
Anon. 
O NE day, young frolic Cupid tried 
To scatter roses o’er the hours, 
And on the dial’s face to hide 
The course of time with many flowers. 
By chance his rosy wreaths had wound 
Upon the hands, and forced them on; 
And when he looked again, he found 
The hours had passed, the time was done. 
“ Alas !” said Love, and dropped his flowers, 
“ I’ve lost my time in idle play ; 
The sweeter I would make the hours, 
The tpiicker they are passed away. li 
