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Hot!-hot-all piping hot.--CITY CRIES. HEAVEN help us all in these terrific days!
The burning sun upon the earth is pelting With his directest, fiercest, hottest rays,
And every thing is melting !
Fat men, infatuate, fan the stagnant air,
In rash essay to cool their inward glowing, While with each stroke, in dolorous despair,
They feel the fever growing !
The lean and lathy find a fate as hard,
For, all a-dry, they burn like any tinder Beneath the solar blaze, till withered, charred
And crisped away to cinder!
E'en Stoics now are in the melting mood,
And vestal cheeks are most unseemly florid ; The very zone that girts the frigid prude,
Is now intensely torrid !
The dogs lie lolling in the deepest shade;
The pigs are all a-wallow in the gutters, And not a household creature—cat or maid,
But querulously mutters!
“? Tis dreadful, dreadful hot!” exclaims each one
Unto his sweating, sweltering, roasting neighbor, Then mops his brow, and sighs, as he had done
A quite herculean labor!
While prudent mortals curb with strictest care
All vagrant curs, it seems the queerest puzzle The Dog-star rages rabid through the air,
Without the slightest muzzle !