"LOVE'S LABOUR LOST." LOVE AND LUNACY. THE MOON-who does not love the silver moon, . In all her fantasies and all her phases? Whether full-orb'd in the nocturnal noon, Shining in all the dewdrops on the daisies, Or huge and red, as on brown sheaves she gazes; Or new and thin, when coin is turn'd for luck ;— Who will not say that Dian is a duck? D But, oh! how tender, beautiful, and sweet, When in her silent round, serene, and clear, To recompense the pangs of absence drear! Still saw his image in that silver sphere, Plain as the Man with lantern, bush, and dog, j That used to set our ancestors a-gog. And so she told him in a pretty letter, That came to hand exactly as Saint Meg's Was striking ten-eleven had been better; For then he might have eaten six more eggs, With relishes from East, West, North, and South, And so the kidneys, broiling hot, were wasted; The potted shrimps were left as they were bought, Whilst Juno, licking her poor lips, was taught There's neither bone nor skin about a letter, Gristle, nor scalp, that one can give a setter. Heav'n bless the man who first devis'd a mail! The Goldsmiths' front with such a solid veil! Heav'n bless the Master, and Sir Francis Freeling, The drags, the nags, the leading or the wheeling, Heav'n bless, in short, each posting thing, and varlet, |