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Rh His friends may come to grief, and he be found in awkward fixes,

But always tumbles right end up, not aces—no: all sixes!

This was the kind of lore I brought

To school my town in ways of thought;

I mingled reasoning with my art

And shrewdness, till I fired their heart

To brood, to think things through and through;

And rule their houses better, too.

Yes, by the powers, that's very true!

No burgher now, who comes indoors,

But straight looks round the house and roars

"Where is the saucepan gone? And who

Has bitten that sprat's head away?

And, out, alas! The earthen pot

I bought last year, is not, is not!

Where are the leeks of yesterday?

And who has gnawed this olive, pray?"

Whereas, before they took his school,

Each sat at home, a simple, cool,

Religious, unsuspecting fool,

And happy in his sheep-like way!

Great Achilles, gaze around thee!

'Twill astound thee and confound thee.

Answer now: but keep in bound the