ies the Fact,
But Mungo saw him in the act.

[Illustration: _And beat the Knave full sore_]

Behold the due reward of sin,
See what a plight rogue Pambo's in.
The King lays on his blows so stout,
The Tarts for fear come tumbling out
O King! be merciful as just,
You'll beat poor Pambo into dust

[Illustration: _The Knave of Hearts_]

How like he looks to a dog that begs
In abject sort upon two legs!
Good Mr. Knave, give me my due,
I like a tart as well as you,
But I would starve on good roast Beef,
Ere I would look so like a thief.

[Illustration: _Brought back those Tarts_]

The Knave brings back the tarts he stole.
The Queen swears, that is not the whole.
What should poor Pambo do? hard prest
Owns he has eaten up the rest.
The King takes back, as lawful debt,
Not all, but all that he can get.

[Illustration: _And vow'd he'd steal no more_]

Lo! Pambo prostrate on the floor
Vows he will be a thief no more.
O King your heart no longer harden,
You've got the tarts, give him his pardon.
The best time to forgive a sinner
Is always after a good dinner.

[Illustration]

"How say you Sir? tis all a joke--
Great Kings love tarts like other folk!"
If for a truth you'll not receive it,
Pray, view the picture, and believe it.
Sly Pambo too has got a share,
And eats it snug behind the chair.

[Illustration]

Their Majesties so well have fed,
The tarts have got up in their head.
"Or may be 'twas the wine!"--hush, gipsey!
Great Kings & Queens indeed get tipsey!
Now, Pambo, is the time for you:
Beat little Tell-Tale black & blue.

POETRY FOR CHILDREN

(_1808-1809. Text of 1809_)

ENVY

This rose-tree is not made to bear
The violet blue, nor lily fair,
Nor the sweet mignionet:
And if this tree were discontent,
Or wish'd to change its natural bent,
It all in vain would fret.

And should it fret, you would suppose
It ne'er had seen its own red rose,
Nor after gentle shower
Had ever smell'd it rose's scent,
Or it could ne'er be discontent
With its own pretty flower.

Like such a blind and senseless tree
As I've imagin'd this to be,
All envious persons are:
With care and culture all may find
Some pretty flower in their own mind,
Some talent that is rare.

THE REAPER'S CHILD

If you go to the field where the Reapers now bind
The sheaves of ripe corn, the