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Till yonder heaven and earth shall mingle, Or (which is likelier to befal)
Till death exterminate us all.
marry without more ado.
My dear Dick Redcap, what say you?
Of an immediate conjugation.
All paired, and each pair built a nest.
The wind, of late breathed gently forth,
Grew quarrelsome, and pecked each other,
Misses! the tale that I relate
This lesson seems to carryChoose not alone a proper mate, But proper time to marry.
THE DOG AND THE WATER-LILY.
The noon was shady, and soft airs
My spaniel, prettiest of his race,
(Two nymphs adorned with every grace That spaniel found for me)
Now wantoned, lost in flags and reeds,
With scarce a slower flight.
It was the time when Ouse displayed
His lilies newly blown;
Their beauties I intent surveyed,
With cane extended far I sought
To steer it close to land;
But still the prize, though nearly caught, Escaped my eager hand.
Beau marked my unsuccessful pains
With fixt considerate face,
But with a chirrup clear and strong,
I thence withdrew, and followed long
My ramble finished, I returned,
The floating wreath again discerned,
I saw him with that lily eropped
My quick approach, and soon he dropped
Charmed with the sight, the world, I cried,
My dog shall mortify the pride
But chief myself I will enjoin,
Awake at duty's call,
To shew a love as prompt as thine To Him who gives me all.
THE POET, THE OYSTER, AND SENSITIVE PLANT.
An Oyster, cast upon the shore,
Was heard, though never heard before,
Ah, hapless wretch! condemned to dwell
Ordained to move when others please,
I envy that unfeeling shrub,
The plant he meant grew not far off,
When, cry the botanists, and stare,
To make them grow just where she chooses.
Or such another dolt as you:
For many a grave and learned clerk,
And many a gay unlettered spark,
And when I bend, retire, and shrink,
Deserves not, if so soon offended,
You, in your grotto-work enclosed,
And as for you, my Lady Squeamish,
His censure reached them as he dealt it,
ON A GOLDFINCH STARVED TO DEATH
IN HIS CAGE.
Time was when I was free as air,
But gaudy plumage, sprightly strain,
And of a transient date;
For caught and caged, and starved to death, In dying sighs my little breath
Soon passed the wiry grate.
Thanks, gentle swain, for all my woes,
More cruelty could none express;
TRANSLATIONS FROM V. BOURNE.
Beneath the hedge, or near the stream,
A worm is known to stray;
Disputes have been, and still prevail,
But this is sure-the hand of might,
Perhaps indulgent nature meant,
Be careful where he trod:
Nor crush a worm, whose useful light Might serve, however small,
To shew a stumbling stone by night, And save him from a fall.
Whate'er she meant, this truth divine Is legible and plain,
'Tis power almighty bids him shine, 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;
Above the steeple shines a plate,
From what point blows the weather. Look up your brains begin to swim; "Tis in the clouds-that pleases him, He chooses it the rather.
Fond of the speculative height,
And thence securely sees
You think, no doubt, he sits and muses
If he should chance to fall.
He sees that this great roundabout
The world, with all its motley rout,
And says-what says he?-Caw.
Thrice happy bird! I too have seen Much of the vanities of men;
And, sick of having seen 'em, Would cheerfully these limbs resign For such a pair of wings as thine, And such a head between 'em.
Little inmate, full of mirth,
Thus thy praise shall be exprest,
Though in voice and shape they be
Neither night, nor dawn of day,
Wretched man, whose years are spent
In repining discontent,
Lives not, aged though he be,
In painted plumes superbly drest,
Poll gains at length the British shore,
Belinda's maids are soon preferred To teach him now and then a word, As Poll can master it;
But 'tis her own important charge To qualify him more at large,
And make him quite a wit.
Sweet Poll! his doating mistress cries, Sweet Poll! the mimic bird replies;
And calls aloud for sack. She next instructs him in the kiss; 'Tis now a little one, like Miss,
And now a hearty smack.
At first he aims at what he hears;
But soon articulates aloud,
A querulous old woman's voice
He scolds and gives the lie.
Belinda and her bird! 'tis rare
To meet with such a well-matched pair,
Each character in every part
When children first begin to spell,
We think them tedious creatures;
But difficulties soon abate,
When birds are to be taught to prate,
HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN,
SHEWING HOW HE WENT FARTHER THAN HE INTENDED, AND CAME SAFE HOME AGAIN.
John Gilpin was a citizen
Of credit and renown,
A train-band captain eke was he
Of famous London town.
John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear, Though wedded we have been These twice ten tedious years, yet we No holiday have seen.
To-morrow is our wedding-day,
And we will then repair
My sister, and my sister's child,
Then over all, that he might be
He soon replied, I do admire
Of womankind but one,
And you are she, my dearest dear,
Therefore it shall be done.
I am a linen-draper bold,
As all the world doth know, And my good friend the calender
Will lend his horse to go.
Quoth Mrs. Gilpin, That's well said;
And, for that wine is dear,
Which is both bright and clear.
That, though on pleasure she was bent,
The morning came, the chaise was brought,
To drive up to the door, lest all
Should say that she was proud.
So three doors off the chaise was stayed,
Six precious souls, and all agog
To dash through thick and thin.
Smack went the whip, round went the wheels,
The stones did rattle underneath,
John Gilpin at his horse's side
Seized fast the flowing mane,
And up he got, in haste to ride,
But soon came down again;
For saddle-tree scarce reached had he,
When, turning round his head, he saw
So down he came; for loss of time,
'Twas long before the customers
Were suited to their mind,
Good lack! quoth he-yet bring it me,
Now mistress Gilpin (careful soul!)
Equipped from top to toe,
His long red cloak, well brushed and neat,
Now see him mounted once again
But finding soon a smoother road
So, fair and softly, John he cried,
In spite of curb and rein.
So stooping down, as needs he must
He grasped the mane with both his hands,
His horse, who never in that sort
Away went Gilpin, neck or nought;
The wind did blow, the cloak did fly
Then might all people well discern
A bottle swinging at each side,
As hath been said or sung.
The dogs did bark, the children screamed,
And every soul cried out, Well done!
Away went Gilpin-who but he?
His fame soon spread around,
"Tis for a thousand pound!
And still, as fast as he drew near,
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.