ANOTHER. ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY. SWEET stream, that winds through yonder glade, THE POET'S NEW-YEAR'S GIFT. TO LADY THROCKMORTON. MARIA! I have every good For thee wish'd many a time, To wish thee fairer is no need, More prudent or more sprightly, 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, That wish, on some fair future day, ODE TO APOLLO. ON AN INK-GLASS ALMOST DRIED IN THE SUN. PATRON of all those luckless brains Ah why, since oceans, rivers, streams, Why, stooping from the noon of day, Too covetous of drink, A poet's drop of ink? Upborne into the viewless air, It floats a vapour now, Impell'd through regions dense and rare, Ordain'd perhaps, e'er summer flies, To form an Iris in the skies, Illustrious drop! and happy then 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. 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 Bulfinch, who could boast My friends! be cautious how ye treat I fear we shall have winter yet. A Finch, whose tongue knew no control, A last year's bird, who ne'er had tried By his good will would keep us single, Till yonder heaven and earth shall mingle, 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 doned by them, or can be, against the evidence of hi THE DOG AND THE WATER-LILY. 187 Or (which is likelier to befall) Till death exterminate us all. My dear Dick Redcap, what say you? Dick heard, and tweedling, ogling, bridling, Their sentiments, so well express'd, All pair'd, and each pair built a nest. But though the birds were thus in haste, The leaves came on not quite so fast, The wind, of late breathed gently forth, Grew quarrelsome and peck'd each other, MORAL. Misses! the tale that I relate THE DOG AND THE WATER-LILY. NO FABLE. THE noon was shady, and soft airs I wander'd on his side. My spaniel, prettiest of his race, (Two nymphs* adorn'd with every grace Now wanton'd lost in flags and reeds, Now starting into sight, Pursued the swallow o'er the meads It was the time when Ouse display'd With cane extended far I sought But still the prize, though nearly caught, Beau mark'd my unsuccessful pains With fix'd considerate face, And puzzling set his puppy brains To comprehend the case. But with a cherup clear and strong, I thence withdrew, and follow'd long My ramble ended, I returned; I saw him with that lily cropp'd My quick approach, and soon he dropp'd Sir Robert Gunning's daughters. |