Deserves not, if so soon offended, And as for you, my Lady Squeamish, Should droop and wither where they grow, His censure reached them as he dealt it, And each by shrinking showed he felt it. THE SHRUBBERY. WRITTEN IN A TIME OF AFFLICTIÓN. Он, happy shades-to me unblest And heart that cannot rest, agree! This glassy stream, that spreading pine, Those alders quivering to the breeze, Might soothe a soul less hurt than mine, And please, if any thing could please. But fixed unalterable Care Foregoes not what she feels within, For all that pleased in wood or lawn, Has lost its beauties and its powers. The saint or moralist should tread Me fruitful scenes and prospects waste THE WINTER NOSEGAY. WHAT Nature, alas! has denied And winter is decked with a smile. See, Mary, what beauties I bring From the shelter of that sunny shed, Where the flowers have the charms of the spring, Though abroad they are frozen and dead. "Tis a bower of Arcadian sweets, Where Flora is still in her prime, A fortress to which she retreats From the cruel assaults of the clime. While Earth wears a mantle of snow, These pinks are as fresh and as gay As the fairest and sweetest that blow On the beautiful bosom of May. See how they have safely survived MUTUAL FORBEARANCE, NECESSARY TO THE HAPPINESS OF THE MARRIED STATE. THE lady thus addressed her spouse: Sir Humphrey, shooting in the dark, (And raised her voice and frowned beside,) Well, I protest 'tis past all bearing— Child! I am rather hard of hearingYes, truly; one must scream and ball: I tell you, you can't hear at all! Then, with a voice exceeding low, No matter if you hear or no. Alas! and is domestic strife, That sorest ill of human life, A plague so little to be feared, As to be wantonly incurred, To gratify a fretful passion, On every trivial provocation? The kindest and the happiest pair Will find occasion to forbear: And something, every day they live, To pity, and perhaps forgive. But if infirmities, that fall In common to the lot of all, A blemish or a sense impaired, Are crimes so little to be spared, Then farewell all that must create The comfort of the wedded state; Instead of harmony, 'tis jar, And tumult, and intestine war. The love that cheers life's latest stage, Proof against sickness and old age, Preserved by virtue from declension, Becomes not weary of attention; But lives, when that exterior grace, Which first inspired the flame, decays, "Tis gentle, delicate, and kind, To faults compassionate or blind, And will with sympathy endure Those evils it would gladly cure: But angry, coarse, and harsh expression Shows love to be a mere profession; Proves that the heart is none of his, Qr soon expels him if it is. THE NEGRO'S COMPLAINT, FORCED from home and all its pleasures, To increase a stranger's treasures, Men from England bought and sold me, Still in thought as free as ever, Skins may differ, but affection Dwells in white and black the same. Why did all creating Nature Make the plant for which we toil? Sighs must fan it, tears must water, Sweat of ours must dress the soil. Think, ye masters, iron-hearted, Lolling at your jovial boards; Think how many backs have smarted For the sweets your cane affords. Is there, as ye sometimes tell us, |