The morning came, when neighbour Hodge, A gift to his expecting fair, 'Tis Providence alone secures, From dangers of a frightful shape; A COMPARISON. THE lapse of time and rivers is the same, And a wide ocean swallows both at last. Though each resemble each in every part, A difference strikes at length the musing heart: Streams never flow in vain; where streams abound, How laughs the land with various plenty crown'd! But time, that should enrich the nobler mind, Neglected leaves a weary waste behind. ANOTHER.. ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY. SWEET stream, that winds through yonder glade, Graceful and useful all she does, Blessing and bless'd where'er she goes, THE POET'S NEW-YEAR'S GIFT. TO MRS. (now LADY) THROCKMORTON. MARIA! I have every good For thee wish'd many a time, To wish thee fairer is no need, What favour then, not yet possess'd, In wedded love already bless'd 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, And doubtless one in thine. That wish, on some fair future day, PATRON of all those luckless brains, Ah why, since oceans, rivers, streams, Why, stooping at the noon of day, Upborn into the viewless air, It floats a vapour now, Impell'd through regions dense and rare, Ordain'd perhaps, ere summer flies, To form an Iris in the skies, Though black and foul before. Illustrious drop! and happy then Of all that ever pass'd my pen, Phoebus, if such be thy design, To place it in thy bow, Give wit, that what is left may shine PAIRING TIME ANTICIPATED. A FABLE. I SHALL not ask Jean Jacques Rousseau,* 'Tis clear, that they were always able Must have a most uncommon skull. It chanced then, on a winter's day, But warm, and bright, and calm as May, The birds, conceiving a design To forestall sweet St. Valentine, In many an orchard, copse, and grove, And with much twitter and much chatter, Began to agitate the matter. At length a Bullfinch, who could boast My friends! be cautious how ye treat I fear we shall have winter yet. It was one of the whimsical speculations of this philosopher, that all fables which ascribe reason and speech to animals should be withheld from children, as being only vehicles of deception. But what child was ever deceived by them, or can be, against the evidence of his senses? A finch, whose tongue knew no control, By his good will would keep us single Till death exterminate us all. My dear Dick Redcap what say you? Dick heard, and tweedling, ogling, bridling, Turning short round, strutting, and sideling, Attested, glad, his approbation Of an immediate conjugation. All pair'd, and each pair built a nest. But though the birds were thus in haste, Grew quarrelsome, and peck'd each other, Except that they had ever met, Than to neglect a good adviser. MORAL. Misses! the tale that I relate |