Imagens das páginas
PDF
ePub

LINES TO HEALTH,

OCCASIONED BY THE RECOVERY OF MY FRIEND, JOHN LITCHFIELD, ESQ. FROM A SEVERE ILLNESS.

[From the Morning Poft.]

SWEET guardian of the rofy cheek!
Whene'er to thee I raise my hands,
Upon the mountain's breezy peak,
Or on the yellow murm'ring fands;
If thou haft deign'd, by pity mov'd,
This fev'rifh phantom to prolong,
I've touch'd my lute for ever lov'd,
And blefs'd thee with its earliest song.

And oh! if in thy gentle ear

Its fimple notes have founded sweet,
May the foft breeze to thee fo dear,
Now bear them to thy fragrant feat;
For thou haft dried the dew of grief,
And friendship feels new ecftacy;
To Pollio thou haft ftretch'd relief,
And raifing him, haft cherish'd me.
So while fome treafur'd plant receives
Th' admiring florift 's partial fhower,
The drops that tremble from its leaves,
Oft feed some near, uncultur'd flower:
For late connubial fondness hung

Mute o'er the couch where Pollio lay,
Love, hope, and forrow fix'd her tongue,
Paffions which oft have felt its way.

And Nature, in thofe anxious hours,
Refolv'd that from her eyes fhould flow
The tears fo often forc'd from ours,
By all her powers of mimic woe* :
There too, by drooping Pollio's fide,
Stood Modefty, a mourner meek,
While Genius, mov'd by grief and pride,
Increas'd the blush which grac'd her cheek:

Alluding to the great dramatic talents of Mrs. Litchfield.

For

For much the maiden he reprov'd,
For having fpread her veil of Snow
Upon the mind he form'd and lov'd,
Till fhe was feen to mourn it too:-
O Health! when thou art fled, how vain
The witchery of earth and skies,
Love's glance or mufic's sweetest strain,
Or ocean's fofteft lullabies!

Oh! ever hover near his bower,
There let thy fav' rite fylphs repair,
Fence it with every fweet-lip'd flower,
That fickness find no entrance there:
So fhall his lyre, untouch'd fo long,
The tone, with which it charm'd, regain;
Sweet fpirit! thou fhalt teach his fong,
With mine, to breathe the grateful ftrain.

TO A LADY,

J. CARR.

WITH A PAIR OF GLOVES, ON VALENTINE'S DAY.

[From the Suffex Chronicle.]

RIMFUL of anger-not of love,

BR

The champion fends his foe one glove;

But I that have a double share

Of tender paffion-fend a pair.
Nor think it, dearest Celia, cruel
That I invite you to a duel:
Ready to meet you face to face,
At any time, in any place:

Nor will I leave you in the lurch,

Though you should dare to name the church!
There come equipp'd with all your charms,
The ring and license are my arms:
With these I mean my power to try,
And meet my charmer-though I die!

ΤΟ

BY

TO NERISSA.

[From the Morning Herald.]

Y the arch dimple playing on your cheek,
And tempting fyren voice whene'er you speak;
By the bright luftre of your fparkling eyes,
Whofe glance fo well the want of words fupplies;
By each loose ringlet of your nut-brown hair,
That wanton ftrays, and fhades your bofom fair;
By thofe dear lips, the treafures of delight,
That oft a lover's facrilege invite;

By that white bofom as it ftands confeft,
And gently heaving to be closely preft;
By thofe bewitching fmiles and kiffes fweet,
When two fond hearts in foft embraces meet;
By more than dare be nam'd, I claim thee mine,
My lovely miftrefs, and my Valentine.
Feb. 14.

GALERIO.

ANSWER.

[From the fame.]

YOUR method of wooing a nymph fo divine, To be fure, my good Sir, was a coarfe one; And while you fet up to be "Sweet Valentine,"

You were more like his mad brother Orfon.

THE DISCONTENTED RABBIT.

[From the Brith Prefs.]

A RABBIT who had all his life been pent
Within a hutch, at length grew difcontent,
And having nothing else to do,

Amus'd himself in meditation

On a poor rabbit's lucklefs fituation,

Compar'd with other animals he knew.

ELIA.

"Alas!"

Alas!" he cried, "how many ills I bear,
And what a happy dog is yonder Hare!
He roves through wood or field, contented, free;
He has no cares or troubles, none at all;
He can fee life, enjoy fociety,

And when he pleafes give his friends a call,
For food no human tyrant's aid he needs,
But as through gardens in and out he pops,
On what beft fuits his tafte he freely feeds-
On cabbage now, and now on turnip-tops.
Whilft I, with these infernal bars befet,
Must be content with any thing I get.
Yet why fhould I

Thus tamely bear the lofs of liberty,
Whom nature made as proper to be free
As he?

It furely never was by nature meant

That I in this vile prifon fhould be cramm'd :
I'll not endure it; no, if I confent

To bear it any longer I'll be d~~d.
But how fhall I efcape my keeper's clutch?
I have it when he opens next my hutch,
Inftead of tamely fitting like a dolt,
I'll flily make a spring and out I'll bolt."
The opportunity occurr'd,

And Bunny really kept his word.

And now, from all restraint fet free,
He frifk'd about with wondrous glee,

Till with his exercise he hungry grew;
Then food he fought, and found enough,
But found it very forry stuff

To what he 'd been accuftom'd to.
To grumble now, however, 't was too late,
So quietly he ate.-

Juft fo the rake in holy fable,

Who us'd in ftyle to fit at table,

And on all forts of dainties dine,

Till he turn'd wicked finner,

And then was forc'd to mess with filthy fwine,
Or go, as he deferv'd, without his dinner.

At

At laft he met the envied Hare;

And, vaunting, told the whole affair

Of his escape, no doubt expecting praife,
And begg'd to know how beft to spend his days;
Requefting too his kind advice,

If he again fhould stand in need of food,
As 't was moft probable he fhould,
Where he might get a bit of fomething nice.
Pufs fhook his head: "The fcheme you'll rue,"
Says he, "or I am much mistaken,

Of having a good home forfaken,

To try a life of which you nothing knew.
How could you fuch a thing defign?
You foolish fellow! how imagine
That you were fuited to engage in

A ftate fo arduous as mine?

"A thousand terrors, guns, hounds, fnares, Against us Hares,

Are by the human race employ'd,
Which you ne'er learnt the cunning to avoid.
"Besides, you are not to be told,

It foon will grow confounded cold,
And you can ne'er your tender hide expose
To froft and flows.

Upon my foul, I fear you'll feel it much;
For you must be unfeafon'd to the biaft,
You who have all your winters pafs'd
Within a nice warm comfortable hutch.

"Then, while you may, my counfel take,
And to your keeper ftraight go back,
His pardon humbly to implore,
And tell him you I do fo no more."
He scarce had ended, when the sudden cry
Of a loud yelping pack
Approaching brifkly at his back
Oblig'd him haftily to fly.

Pufs doubtless tipt them all the double,
Or gave at least the curs fome trouble;
But, finding fuch an easy prey,

They fnapt up Bunny in their way.

[merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small]
« AnteriorContinuar »