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Such as thick bottled-cream and spice-cake;
Your wine sours deliciously fine;
Not to mention your gooseberry wine,
Protested again and again, (As he begg'd for some more I would send)
Was superior to any Champaigne. A pot of such raspberry jam
As yours, I have sought for in vain;
I never shall meet with again,
Bless me! I had nearly forgot,
For the couple of wild-ducks he shot.
I should like you to get me a dog
Perhaps you've a good one to spare : You can send it by some stupid log,
That will bring it scot-free; but take care That he does not expect a spare bed :
I will give him a dinner, or soI got nothing by harbouring Ned,
Some two or three winters ago. There's a man that makes nice walking-sticks,
It is not many miles from your farm; I wish you'd ride over, and fix
On one like my uncle's at Yarm. And get me a skin nicely dress'd
A sheep's, buck, or doe's, I don't care; For rugs they're decidedly best
What I purchase in London soon wear. For my time I have made you no charge,
Nor coach-hire for popping about; But I'll not on such trifles enlarge
You will pay me in some way, no doubt.
Your papa may look out for a horse,
And consult ma-I must not pay dear; He will think it no trouble, of course, Remembering for what you send here.
TO HIS GUARDIAN ANGEL.
My infant days were given!
While such the will of Heaven!
By thee inspired, the livelong day
Calni slumbers crown'd the night;
I sought and found delight.
Of tempting purple dye;
Allured my longing eye.
Why yield the ruling rein?
A dire and gloomy train !
When Boreas sweeps the flood ? Can the soft virgin's voice restrain The midnight howlings of the plain,
When lions roar for food ?
So weak is reason to control,
When torn by passions wild;
As voice of virgin mild.
Come then, resume thy guardian power,
To whom the charge was given!
Rev. MR. HOYLAND.
TO MY HARP.
Oh, my loved harp! companion dear!
Sweet soother of my secret grief,
No more afford a soft relief.
When anxious cares my heart oppressid,
When doubts distracting tore my soul, The pains which heaved my swelling breast
Thy gentle sway could oft control. Each well-remember'd practised strain,
The cheerful dance, the tender song, Recall'd, with pensive, pleasing pain,
Some image loved and cherish'd long.
When joy sat smiling o'er my fate,
And mark'd each bright and happy day,
And taught my lips the simple lay:
I saw some darling hope o'erthrown,
O'er thee I wept, unseen, alone.
Dear partner of my happiest days?
Unused thy melody to raise ;
Those scenes where I thy charms have felt,
Which taught my soften'd heart to melt.
Endear'd by many a tender tie,
With soothing melody shall play;
MRS. HENRY TIGHE.
O BEAUTIFUL the streams
That through our valleys run,
Of summer's cloudless sun!
The sweetest of them all
From its fairy banks is gone; And the music of the waterfall
Hath left the silent stone!
Up among the mountains
In soft and mossy cell,
The happy wild-flowers dwell.
Hath wither'd in the wind,
In the blossoms left behind.
Birds cheer our lonely groves
With many a beauteous wing; When happy in their harmless loves
How tenderly they sing! O'er all the rest was heard
One wild and mournful strain,
She ne'er must sing again!
I saw a sleeping dove!
The sunlight lay in love:
Round the beauty of that breast, But the startled dove afar is flown!
Forsaken is her nest!
In yonder forest wide
Å flock of wild deer lies,
And shades their peaceful eyes!
Hath singled out the doe, In whose light the mountain flock lay bright,
Whose hue was like the snow!