Nay, now and then, could look quite gay, As other people do ; And sometimes said, or tried to say, He eyed the women, and made free The women said, who thought him rough, At length improved from head to heel, Now, that a miracle so strange May not in vain be shown, Let the dear maid who wrought the change E'en claim him for her own! TO THE SAME. How quick the change from joy to wo, Dark clouds of sorrow, pain, and care, (Some pleasing intervals between,) Yet ere we look'd our last farewell, From her dear lips this comfort fell,"Fear not that time, where'er we rove, Or absence, shall abate my love." LINES ON A SLEEPING INFANT. SWEET babe! whose image here express'd Guilt or fear, to break thy rest, Soothing slumbers! soft repose, LINES. Oh! to some distant scene, a willing exile Were it my fate with Delia to retire, With her to wander through the sylvan shade, Each morn, or o'er the moss-embrowned turf, Where, blest as the prime parents of mankind In their own Eden, we would envy none, But, greatly pitying whom the world calls happy, Gently spin out the silken thread of life! INSCRIPTION FOR A MOSS-HOUSE IN THE SHRUBBERY AT WESTON. HERE, free from riot's hated noise, A book or friend bestows; Far from the storms that shake the great, Contentment's gale shall fan And sweeten my repose. my seat, LINES ON THE DEATH OF SIR WILLIAM RUSSEL. DOOм'D, as I am, in solitude to waste The present moments, and regret the past; My friend torn from me, and my mistress lost; Call not this gloom I wear, this anxious mien, Still, still, I mourn, with each returning day, ON THE HIGH PRICE OF FISH. COCOA-NUT naught, Fish too dear, None must be bought For us that are here: * Sir William Russel, the favourite friend of the young poet. No lobster on earth, To me would be worth Sixpence a claw. So, dear Madam, wait Till fish can be got At a reas'nable rate, Whether lobster or not; Till the French and the Dutch Have quitted the seas, And then send as much And as oft as you please. TO MRS. NEWTON. A NOBLE theme demands a noble verse, |