THE FOUNTAIN. A CONVERSATION. WE talked with open heart, and tongue A pair of friends, though I was young, We lay beneath a spreading oak, Beside a mossy seat; And from the turf a fountain broke, And gurgled at our feet. "Now, Matthew!" said I, "let us match This water's pleasant tune With some old border-song, or catch, That suits a summer's noon; Or of the church-clock and the chimes Sing here beneath the shade, That half-mad thing of witty rhymes In silence Matthew lay, and eyed And thus the dear old Man replied, The grey-haired man of glee: "No check, no stay, this streamlet fears; How merrily it goes! 'Twill murmur on a thousand years, And flow as now it flows. And here, on this delightful day, I cannot choose but think How oft, a vigorous man, I lay My eyes are dim with childish tears, My heart is idly stirred, For the same sound is in my ears Which in those days I heard. Thus fares it still in our decay: And yet the wiser mind Mourns less for what age takes away Than what it leaves behind. The blackbird amid leafy trees, The lark above the hill, Let loose their carois when they please, With Nature never do they wage A happy youth, and their old age But we are pressed by heavy laws; We wear a face of joy, because If there be one who need bemoan His kindred laid earth, 1 The household hea. ts that were his own It is the man of mirth. My days, my Friend, are almost gone, My life has been approved, And many love me; but by none Am I enough beloved." Now both himself and me he wrongs, The man who thus complains! I live and sing my idle songs And, Matthew, for thy children dead At this he grasped my hand, and said, We rose up from the fountain-side; Of the green sheep-track did we glide, And, ere we came to Leonard's rock, About the crazy old church-clock, 1799. TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF A FAVOURITE DOS. LIL here, without a record of thy worth, Or want of love, that here no Stone we raise; Yet they to whom thy rtaes made thee dear Shall find thee through all changes of the year: This Oak points out thy grave; the silent tree Will gladly stand a monument of thee. We grieved for thee, and wished thy end were And willingly have laid thee here at last : |