« EelmineJätka »
For surely, then I should have sight
My apprehensions come in crowds;
Beyond participation lie
My troubles, and beyond relief:
From the same.
HE had a tall man's height, or more ;
A long drab-colour'd cloak she wore,
A mantle reaching to her feet :
What other dress she had I could not know;
In all my walks, through field or town,
Fit person was she for a queen,
To head those ancient Amazonian files :
Or ruling Bandit's wife, among the Grecian Isles.
Before me begging did she stand,
And yet a boon I gave her; for the creature
I left her and pursued my way;
The taller follow'd with his hat in hand,
The other wore a rimless crown,
With leaves of laurel stuck about :
Two brothers seem'd they, eight and ten years old;
They bolted on me thus, and lo!
"That cannot be," one answer'd, "She is dead."
Nay but I gave her pence, and she will buy you bread."
"She has been dead, Sir, many a day."
"Come, come!" cried one; and, without more ade Off to some other play they both together flew.
LITTLE THINGS ARE BEST.
A JEU D'ESPRIT.
Addressed to Miss Cresswell, a little, short Lady. By Old Nick.
Salis parva res est. Amphitruo. Act 2, sc. 2.
The god of Love's a little wight,
* See Josephus de Uxoribus-a very ancient and serious jest.
And lost to every bliss am told
Unable from myself to fly,
I catch each word, I read each eye :
With anxious toil, with ceaseless care,
The flower may wave its foliage gay,
ELEGY I. TO WISDOM.
From the same.
WISDOM! not to thee the song of praise
'Till 'mid her rosy school the learned dame
Call'd me in favour near her wheel to stand; Oft shared her sway, as earlier evenings came, And bade me lisping teach her lisping band.
Didst thou not charm my step, with kindliest smile,
Wake my young pride, and lure me to thy lore.
My boyish mind in trance enraptur'd hold
Mid heroes-giants-all, that won'drous seem'd, The hermit sailor and the outlaw bold,
While eastern genii thro' my slumbers gleam'd.
And rude I deem'd, and all unfit to please,
Each thoughtless pastime of the youthful day; To guide the skiff, and lean along the breeze,
The gleaning covey's whirring flight to stay ;
With hound and horn to cheer the woodland's side,
That silvery eddies round the hoary stone.
E'en 'mid my school-mates on the sunny plain,
Did'st thou not touch with fire my graver mind,
Didst thou not whisper dreams of deathless fame,
Of friends, who in my triumphs felt their own?
Oh! with what rapture, as thy guidance led
Thro' thy fresh landscapes, did my steps pursue; Bright flowers and prospects fair before me spread, And still 1 onward press'd, still ardent flew.
Why, Wisdom, dimmer glows thy angel form,
Less beauteous why thy flowers and landscapes all;