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To list to Philomel is sweet-
Sweet is the eventide, and kind
At last, embolden'd by my bliss,
Then, Lovers, doom’d to life or death, Shun moonlight, twilight, lanes, and bats, Lest you should have in self-same breath To bless your fate—and curse the gnats!
“It's hame, hame, hame.”—A. CUNNINGHAM.
O KATE! my dear Partner, through joy and
through strife!. When I look back at Hymen’s dear day, Not a lovelier bride ever changed to a wife,
Though you ’re now so old, wizen'd, and gray !
Those eyes, then, were stars, shining rulers of
fate! But as liquid as stars in a pool; Though now they're so dim, they appear, my
dear Kate, Just like gooseberries boil'd for a fool!
That brow was like marble, so smooth and so fair;
Though it's wrinkled so crookedly now, As if Time, when those furrows were made by
the share, Had been tipsy whilst driving his plough!
Your nose, it was such as the sculptors all chose,
When a Venus demanded their skill ; Though now it can hardly be reckon'd a nose,
But a sort of Poll-Parroty bill!
Your mouth, it was then quite a bait for the bees,
Such a nectar there hung on each lip; Though now it has taken that lemon-like squeeze,
Not a blue-bottle comes for a sip!
Your chin, it was one of Love's favourite haunts,
From its dimple he could not get loose; Though now the neat hand of a barber it wants,
Or a singe, like the breast of a goose !
How rich were those locks, so abundant and full,
With their ringlets of auburn so deep ! Though now they look only like frizzles of wool,
By a bramble torn off from a sheep !
That neck, not a swan could excel it in grace,
While in whiteness it vied with your arms : Though now a grave 'kerchief you properly place,
To conceal that scrag-end of your charms !
Your figure was tall, then, and perfectly straight,
Though it now has two twists from uprightBut bless you! still bless you ! my Partner! my
The sun was slumbering in the West,
My daily labours past;
My head reclined at last ;-
To fond congenial souls,
“My love, we're out of coals !”
“ That Mister Bond has call’d again,
Insisting on his rent;
To see us, out of Kent ;-
Has had a tipsy fall ;-
With that.vile Mary Hall!?:—
“ Miss Bell has bought the sweetest silk,
And I have bought the rest
Southend will be the best.-
Would be the thing for us ;-
Had parted with her nus "
“ Cook, by the way, came up to-day,
To bid me suit myself—
And what d’ye think? the rats have gnaw'd
The victuals on the shelf.-
Inviting you to fight!
God bless you, dear, good night!”
A PARENTAL ODE TO MY SON, AGED THREE YEARS AND
Thou happy, happy elf ! (But stop,—first let me kiss away that tear) —
Thou tiny image of myself! (My love, he's poking peas into his ear!)
Thou merry, laughing sprite!
With spirits feather-light, Untouch'd by sorrow, and unsoild by sin— (Good heavens! the child is swallowing a pin!)
Thou little tricksy Puck! With antic toys so funnily bestuck, Light as the singing bird that wings the air(The door! the door! he'll tumble down the stair!)
Thou darling of thy sire! (Why, Jane, he'll set his pinafore a-fire!)
Thou imp of mirth and joy! In Love's dear chain so strong and bright a link, Thou idol of thy parents—(Drat the boy!
There goes my ink !)