« ՆախորդըՇարունակել »
Thy liberal heart, thy judging eye,
“ Lo, Granta waits to lead her blooming band,
• Lord-treasurer Burleigh was chancellor of the University in the reign of Queen Elizabeth.
ON THE DEATH OF A FAVOURITE CAT, DROWNED IX
A TUB OF GOLD FISHES.
'Twas on a lofty vase's side,
The azure flowers that blow;
Gaz'd on the lake below.
Her conscious tail her joy declar'd;
The velvet of her paws,
She saw; and purr'd applause.
Still had she gaz'd; but ’midst the tide
The-Genii of the stream :
Betray'd a golden gleam.
The hapless nymph with wonder saw :
With many an ardent wish,
What cat 's averse to fish?
Presumptuous maid! with looks intent
Nor knew the gulf between.
She tumbled headlong in.
Eight times emerging from the flood
Some speedy aid to send.
A favourite has no friend !
From hence, ye beauties, undeceiv'd,
And be with caution bold.
Not all that glisters, gold.
ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF ETON COLLEGE.
"Ανθρωπος εκανή πρόφασις εις το δυσυχείν.
Menander. Ye distant spires, ye antique towers,
That crown the wat'ry glade, Where grateful Science still adores
Her Henry's * holy shade ;
* King Henry the Sixth, founder of the college.
And ye, that from the stately brow
Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey,
His silver-winding way.
Ah, happy hills, ah, pleasing shade,
Ah, fields belov'd in vain,
A stranger yet to pain !
As waving fresh their gladsome wing,
To breathe a second spring.
Say, father. Thames, for thou hast seen
Full many a sprightly race
The paths of pleasure trace,
The captive linnet which enthral ?
Or urge the flying ball ?
Their murmuring labours ply
To sweeten liberty ;
Some bold adventurers disdain
And unknown regions dare descry:
And snatch a fearful joy.
Gay Hope is theirs, by Fancy fed,
Less pleasing, when possest; •The tear forgot as soon as shed,
The sunshine of the breast : Theirs buxom health, of rosy hue; Wild wit, invention ever new,
And lively cheer of vigour born; The thoughtless day, the easy night, The spirits pure, the slumbers light,
That fly th' approach of morn.
Alas, regardless of their doom,
The little victims play!
Nor care beyond to-day.
And black Misfortune's baleful train,
Ah, tell them, they are men !
These shall the fury passions tear,
The vultures of the mind, Disdainful Anger, pallid Fear,
And Shame that skulks behind ;