 | The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth |  |
64
A CHARADE AND SOLUTION.
My
first is a vehicle, such as oft bore
To battle the chivalrous heroes of yore;
'Tis the wicker-wove gondola, too, that will bear,
The fearless Durant yet again in the air.
My second is often by beauty caressed,
Its cradle her lap, and its pillow her breast;
With the choicest of food by her hand it is fed,
And it even presumes to repose on her bed.
My whole is the pride both of matron and maid,
Who guard me with care, lest my beauties should fade;
But though they affect such affection to feel,
They grude me the crumbs that may fall from their meal;
The servants are suffered with rudeness to treat me,
To trample upon me, to shake me, and beat me;
Then pray, gentle ladies, in country or city,
If you know what I am, let me hope for your pity.
To battle the chivalrous heroes of yore;
'Tis the wicker-wove gondola, too, that will bear,
The fearless Durant yet again in the air.
My second is often by beauty caressed,
Its cradle her lap, and its pillow her breast;
With the choicest of food by her hand it is fed,
And it even presumes to repose on her bed.
My whole is the pride both of matron and maid,
Who guard me with care, lest my beauties should fade;
But though they affect such affection to feel,
They grude me the crumbs that may fall from their meal;
The servants are suffered with rudeness to treat me,
To trample upon me, to shake me, and beat me;
Then pray, gentle ladies, in country or city,
If you know what I am, let me hope for your pity.
SOLUTION.
The swift war-chariot, was, of yore,
Yclept a car, and often bore
Some god, or chief, or princely knight,
To meet the foe in desperate fight.
And 't is a car that soon will bear,
Durant again through fields of air!
No fair but on some pet has smiled,
A lapdog, kitten, lamb, or child;
No fair but clasps one to her breast,
Or takes it to her couch of rest.
A happy union of these two,
A car and pet presents to view,
The meaning of a late charade,
Guard well its beauties, lest they fade.
Yclept a car, and often bore
Some god, or chief, or princely knight,
To meet the foe in desperate fight.
65
Durant again through fields of air!
No fair but on some pet has smiled,
A lapdog, kitten, lamb, or child;
No fair but clasps one to her breast,
Or takes it to her couch of rest.
A happy union of these two,
A car and pet presents to view,
The meaning of a late charade,
Guard well its beauties, lest they fade.
| The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth | |