LABEL FIRST.

Within this form there lies enshrined The purest, brightest gem of mind. Though Feeling's hand may sometimes throw Upon its charms the shade of woe, The lustre of the gem, when veiled, Shall be but mellowed, not concealed.

Now, sirs, imagine, if you're able, That Nature wrote a second label, They're her own words—at least suppose so— And boldly pin it on Pomposo.