The Flatting Mill.

An Illustration.     When a bar of pure silver or ingot of gold     Is sent to be flatted or wrought into length,     It is passd between cylinders often, and rolld     In an engine of utmost mechanical strength.     Thus tortured and squeezed, at last it appears     Like a loose heap of ribbon, a glittering show,     Like music it tinkles and rings in your ears,     And, warmd by the pressure, is all in a glow.     This process achieved, it is doomd to sustain     The thump after thump of a gold-beaters mallet,     And at last is of service in sickness or pain     To cover a pill for a delicate palate.     Alas for the poet! who dares undertake     To urge reformation of national ill     His head and his heart are both likely to ache     With the double employment of mallet and mill.     If he wish to instruct, he must learn to delight,     Smooth, ductile, and even his fancy must flow,     Must tinkle and glitter, like gold to the sight,     And catch in its progress a sensible glow.     After all he must beat it as thin and as fine     As the leaf that enfolds what an invalid swallows;     For truth is unwelcome, however divine,     And unless you adorn it, a nausea follows.