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A beast forth-sallied on the scout,
THE POET'S NEW-YEAR'S GIFT Long-backed, long-tailed, with whisker'd snout,
TO MRS. (NOW LADY) THROCKMORTON. And badger-coloured hide.
Maria! I have every good He, entering at the study-door,
For thee wished many a time,
Both sad, and in a cheerful mood,
But never yet in rhyme.
To wish thee fairer is no need,
More prudent, or more sprightly, Just then, by adverse fate imprest,
Or more ingenious, or more freed
From temper-flaws unsightly.
What favour then not yet possest
Can I for thee require,
In wedded love already blest,
To thy whole heart's desire?
None here is happy but in part:
Full bliss is bliss divine;
There dwells some wish in every heart, Minute the horrors that ensued;
And doubtless one in thine.
That wish on some fair future day,
Which fate shall brightly gild, That beak, whence issued many a strain
('Tis blameless, be it what it may)
I wish it all fulfilled.
PAIRING TIME ANTICIPATED.
I sliall not ask Jean Jacques Rousseau,
If birds confabulate or no;
'Tis clear that they were always able His head alone remained to tell
To hold discourse, at least in fable;
And e'en the child who knows no better,
Must have a most uncommon skull.
It chanced then on a winter's day,
But warm, and bright, and calm as May, to Anna conveyed,
The birds, conceiving a design The plentiful moisture incumbered the flower,
To forestall sweet St. Valentine, And weighed down its beautiful head.
In many an orchard, copse, and grove,
Assembled on affairs of love,
Began to agitate the matter.
More years and wisdom than the most,
Entreated, opening wide his beak, I hastily seized it, unfit as it was
A moment's liberty to speak; For a nosegay, so dripping and drown'd,
And, silence publicly enjoined, And swinging it rudely, too rudely, alas!
Delivered briefly tbus his mind. I snapped it, it feil to the ground.
My friends! be cautious how ye treat
The subject upon which we meet; And such, I exclaimed, is the pitiless part
I fear we shall have winter yet. Some act by the delicate mind,
A Finch, whose tongue knew no control, Regardless of wringing and breaking a heart
With golden wing, and satin pole, Already to sorrow resigned.
A last year's bird, who ne'er had tried
What marriage means, thus pert replied. This elegant rose, had I shaken it less,
Methinks the gentleman, quoth she, Might have bloomed with its owner a while,
Opposite in the apple-tree, And the tear, that is wiped with a little address,
By his good will would keep us single, May be followed perhaps by a smile.
Till yonder heaven and earth shall mingle,
Beau marked my unsuccessful pains Or (which is likelier to befal)
With fixt considerate face, Till death exterminate us all.
And puzzling sat his puppy brains
To comprehend the case.
But with a chirrup clear and strong,
Dispersing all his dream,
I thence withdrew, and followed long
The windings of the stream. Their sentiments so well exprest
My ramble finished, I returned, Influenced mightily the rest,
Beau trotting far before All paired, and each pair built a nest.
The floating wreath again discerned,
And plunging left the shore.
I saw him with that lily cropped
Impatient swim to meet Not altogether smiled on theirs.
My quick approach, and soon he dropped The wind, of late breathed gently forth,
The treasure at my feet.
Charmed with the sight, the world, I cried, Could shelter them from rain or snow;
Shall hear of this thy deed: Stepping into their nests, they paddled,
My dog shall mortify the pride
Of man's superior breed :
But chief myself I will enjoin,
Awake at duty's call, Except that they had ever met,
To shew a love as prompt as thine And learned in future to be wiser,
To Him who gives me all. Than to neglect a good adviser.
THE POET, THE OYSTER, AND SEVSH
Misses! the tale that I relate
This lesson seems to carry-
time to marry
THE DOG AND THE WATER-LILY.
The noon was shady, and soft airs
Swept Ouse's silent tide,
I wandered on his side.
And high in pedigree,
That spaniel found for me)
Now starting into sight,
With scarce a slower flight.
His lilies newly blown;
And one I wished my own.
To steer it close to land;
Escaped my eager hand.
An Oyster, cast upon the shore,
Ah, hapless wretch! condemned to dwell
When, cry the botanists, and stare,
You shapeless nothing in a dish,
TRANSLATIONS FROM V, BOURNE.
Beneath the hedge, or near the stream,
A worm is known to stray ;
That shews by night a lucid beam, 2 And when I bend, retire, and shrink,
Which disappears by day.
Disputes have been, and still prevail,
From whence his rays proceed;
Some give that honour to his tail,
And others to his head.
But this is sure—the hand of might,
That kindles up the skies,
Gives him a modicum of light
Proportioned to his size.
Perhaps indulgent nature meant,
By such a lamp bestowed,
To bid the traveller, as he went, You, in your grotto-work enclosed, he we Complain of being thus exposed;
Be careful where he trod : ted:
Yet nothing feel in that rough coat, pride Save when the knife is at your throat,
Nor crush a worm, whose useful light
Might serve, however small, Wherever driven by wind or tide,
To shew a stumbling stone by night,
And save him from a fall.
Whate'er she meant, this truth divine
Is legible and plain, Embellishing the scene around,
power almighty bids him shine, Should droop and wither where they grow,
Nor bids him shine in vain.
Ye proud and wealthy, let this theme
Teach humbler thoughts to you,
Since such a reptile has its gem,
And boasts its splendour too.
There is a bird who by his coat,
Might be supposed a crow;
Where bishop-like he finds a perch,
And dormitory too.
Above the steeple shines a plate,
That turns and turns, to indicate
From what point biows the weather.
up-your brains begin to swim;
'Tis in the clouds--that pleases him, My strains for ever new.
He chooses it the rather. But gaudy plumage, sprightly strain,
Fond of the speculative height,
Thither he wings his airy flight,
And thence securely sees
The bustle and the raree-show,
That occupy mankind below,
Secure and at his ease.
You think, no doubt, he sits and muses Thanks, gentle swain, for all my woes,
On future broken bones and bruises,
If he should chance to fall.
No; not a single thought like that
Employs his philosophic pate,
Or troubles it at all.
THE JACK DAW.
He sees that this great roundabout
But 'tis her own important charge The world, with all its motley rout,
To qualify him more at large, Church, army, physic, law,
And make him quite a wit. Its customs, and its businesses,
Sweet Poll! his doating mistress cries, Is no concern at all of his,
Sweet Poll! the mimic bird replies; And says—what says he ?-Caw.
And calls aloud for sack. Thrice happy bird! I too have seen
She next instructs him in the kiss; Much of the vanities of men;
'Tis now a little one, like Miss, And, sick of having seen 'em,
And now a hearty smack. Would cheerfully these limbs resign
At first he aims at what he hears; For such a pair of wings as thine,
And, listening close with both his ears,
Just catches at the sound;
Much to the amusement of the crowd,
And stuns the neighbours round.
A querulous old woman's voice
His humorous talent next employs,
He scolds and gives the lie.
And now he sings, and now is sick, In return thou shalt receive
Here Sally, Susan, come, come quick, Such a strain as I can give.
Poor Poll is like to die! Thus thy praise shall be exprest,
Belinda and her bird! 'tis rare Inoffensive, welcome guest !
To meet with such a well-matched pair, While the rat is on the scout,
The language and the tone, And the mouse with curious snout,
Each character in every part With what vermin else infest
Sustained with so much grace and art, Every dish, and spoil the best;
And both in unison. Frisking thus before the fire,
When children first begin to spell, Thou hast all thine heart's desire.
And stammer out a syllable,
We think them tedious creatures; Though in voice and shape they be
But difficulties soon abate, Formed as if akin to thee,
When birds are to be taught to prate,
And women are the teachers.
HISTORY OF JOAN GILPIN,
He soon replied, I do admire
Then over all, that he might be Of womankind but one,
Equipped from top to toe, And you are she, my dearest dear,
His long red cloak, well brushed and neat, Therefore it shall be done.
He manfully did throw. I am a linen-draper bold,
Now see him mounted once again As all the world doth know,
Upon his nimble steed, And my good friend the calender
Full slowly pacing o'er the stones, Will lend his horse to go.
With caution and good heed. Quoth Mrs. Gilpin, That's well said;
But finding soon a smoother road And, for that wine is dear,
Beneath his well-shod feet, We will be furnished with our own,
The snorting beast began to trot, Which is both bright and clear.
Which galled him in his seat. John Gilpin kissed his loving wife;
So, fair and softly, John he cried, O'erjoyed was he to find
But John he cried in vain ; That, though on pleasure she was bent,
That trot became a gallop soon, She had a frugal mind.
In spite of curb and rein. The morning came, the chaise was brought,
So stooping down, as needs he must But yet was not allowed
Who cannot sit upright, To drive up to the door, lest all
He grasped the mane with both his hands, Should say that she was proud.
And eke with all his might. So three doors off the chaise was stayed,
His horse, who never in that sort Where they did all get in;
Had handled been before, Six precious souls, and all agog
What thing upon his back had got
Did wonder more and more.
Away went hat and wig;
He little dreamt when he set out, As if Cheapside were mad.
Of running such a rig. John Gilpin at his horse's side
The wind did blow, the cloak did fly Seized fast the flowing mane,
Like streamer long and gay, And up he got, in haste to ride,
Till, loop and button failing both, But soon came down again;
At last it flew away. For saddle-tree scarce reached had he,
Then might all people well discern His journey to begin,
The bottles he had slung; When, turning round his head, he saw
A bottle swinging at each side, Three customers come in.
As hath been said or sung. So down he came; for loss of time,
The dogs did bark, the children screamed, Although it grieved him sore;
Up flew the windows all; Yet loss of pence, full well he knew,
And every soul cried out, Well done! Would trouble him much more.
As loud as he could bawl. 'Twas long before the customers
Away went Gilpin-who but he? Were suited to their mind,
His fame soon spread around, When Betty screaming came down stairs,
He carries weight! he rides a race! “ The wine is left behind !"
'Tis for a thousand pound! Good lack ! quoth he-yet bring it me,
And still, as fast as he drew near,
'Twas wonderful to view My leathern belt likewise, In which I bear my trusty sword
How in a trice the turnpike men When I do exercise.
Their gates wide open threw.
And now, as he went bowing down
His reeking head full low,
The bottles twain behind his back
Were shattered at a blow.
Down ran the wine into the road,
Most piteous to be seen,
Which made his horse's flanks to smoke,
As they had basted been.