« PreviousContinue »
THE lapse of time and rivers is the same,
ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY.
SWEET stream, that winds through yonder glad
THE POET'S NEW-YEAR'S GIFT.
To MRS. (now LADY) THROCKMORTON.
MARIA! I have every good
For thee wish'd many a time,
But never get in rhyme.
More prudent, or more sprightly,
From temper-flaws unsightly.
Can I for thee require,
To thy whole heart's desire ?
Full bliss is bliss divine:
And doubtless one in thine.
Which Fate shall brightly gild,
I wish it all fulfill'd.
ODE TO APOLLO.
ON AN INKGLASS ALMOST DRIED IN THE SUN.
PATRON of all those luckless brains,
That, to the wrong side leaning,
And little or no meaning:
That 'water all the nations,
In constant exhalations,
Too covetous of drink,
A poet's drop of ink ?
It floats a vapour now,
By all the winds that blow.
Combined with millions more,
Though black and foul before.
Beyond the happiest lot,
So soon to be forgot!
To place it in thy bow,
PAIRING TIME ANTICIPATED.
I SHALL not ask Jean Jacques Rousseau,*
It chanced then on a winter's day,
My friends! be cautious how ye treat
A Finch, whose tongue knew no control,
• 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 deceived by them, or can be, against the evidence of his senses?