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The morning came, when neighbour Hodge,
A gift to his expecting fair,
'Tis Providence alone secures,
In every change, both mine and yours:
From dangers of a frightful shape;
THE lapse of time and rivers is the same,
And a wide ocean swallows both at last.
Though each resemble each in every part,
A difference strikes at length the musing heart: Streams never flow in vain; where streams abound, How laughs the land with various plenty crown'd! But time, that should enrich the nobler mind, Neglected leaves a weary waste behind.
ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY.
SWEET stream, that winds through yonder glade,
Silent and chaste she steals along,
Graceful and useful all she does,
THE POET'S NEW-YEAR'S GIFT.
TO MRS. (now 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,
And doubtless one in thine.
That wish, on some fair future day,
ODE TO APOLLO.
ON AN INKGLASS ALMOST DRIED IN THE SUN.
PATRON of all those luckless brains,
Ah why, since oceans, rivers, streams,
Why, stooping at the noon of day,
Upborn into the viewless air,
It floats a vapour now,
Impell'd through regions dense and rare,
Ordain'd perhaps, ere summer flies,
To form an Iris in the skies,
Though black and foul before.
Illustrious drop! and happy then
Of all that ever pass'd my pen,
Phoebus, if such be thy design,
To place it in thy bow,
Give wit, that what is left may shine
PAIRING TIME ANTICIPATED.
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 Bullfinch, who could boast
My friends! be cautious how ye treat
I fear we shall have winter yet.
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?
A finch, whose tongue knew no control,
By his good will would keep us single
Till death exterminate us all.
My dear Dick Redcap what say you?
Dick heard, and tweedling, ogling, bridling, Turning short round, strutting, and sideling, Attested, glad, his approbation
Of an immediate conjugation.
Their sentiments, so well express'd,
All pair'd, and each pair built a nest.
But though the birds were thus in haste,
Grew quarrelsome, and peck'd each other,
Except that they had ever met,
And learn'd in future to be wiser
Than to neglect a good adviser.
Misses! the tale that I relate