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You talk of wondrous things you see,
You say the sun shines bright ;
Or make it day or night?
Whene'er I sleep or play ;
With me 'twere always day,
You mourn my hapless woe;
A loss I ne'er can know.
My cheer of mind destroy :
ON A FAVOURITE CAT, DROWNED IN A
TUB OF GOLD FISHES
'Twas on a lofty vase's side,
The Genii of the stream : Their scaly armour's Tyrian hue Through richest purple, to the view Betray'd a golden gleam, The hapless Nymph with wonder saw : A whisker first, and then a claw With many an ardent wish She stretch'd, in vain, to reach the prize What female heart can gold despise ? What Cat's averse to fish ? Presumptuous maid ! with looks intent Again she stretch'd, again she bent, Nor knew the gulf betweenMalignant Fate sat by and smiledThe slippery verge her feet beguiled ; She tumbled headlong in ! Eight times emerging from the flood She mew'd to every watery God Some speedy aid to send : No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirr'd, Nor cruel Tom nor Susan heard A favourite has no friend ! From hence, ye Beauties! undeceived Know one false step is ne'er retrieved, And be with caution bold : Not all that tempts your wandering eyes And heedless hearts, is lawful prize, Nor all that glisters, gold !
TO CHARLOTTE PULTENE Y
Timely blossom, Infant fair,
Pleasing, without skill to please ;
Ever-busy Time prepares ;
When Britain first at Heaven's command
Arose from out the azure main,
And guardian angels sung the strain : Rule, Britannia ! Britannia rules the waves !
Britons never shall be slaves.
Must in their turn to tyrants fall, Whilst thou shalt flourish great and free
The dread and envy of them all.
Still more majestic shalt thou rise,
More dreadful from each foreign stroke ;
Serves but to root thy native oak.
All their attempts to bend thee down
And work their woe and thy renown.
Thy cities shall with commerce shine ;
And every shore it circles thine !
Shall to thy happy coast repair ;
And manly hearts to guard the fair :-
Ruin seize thee, ruthless King !
They mock the air with idle state.
Of the first Edward scatter'd wild dismay, As down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side
He wound with toilsome march his long array :Stout Glo'ster stood aghast in speechless trance;
• To arms !' cried Mortimer, and couch'd his quivering
Robed in the sable garb of woe
'Hark, how each giant-oak and desert-cave Sighs to the forrent's awful voice beneath ! O’er thee, oh King ! their hundred arms they wave,
Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe ;
Cold is Cadwallo's tongue,
That hush'd the stormy main :
Mountains, ye mourn in vain
Modred, whose magic song
On dreary Arvon's shore they lie
The famish'd eagle screams, and passes by. Dear lost companions of my tuncful art,
Dear as the light that visits thes2 sad eyes, Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart,
Ye died amidst your dying country's criesNo more I weep; They do not sleep ;
On yonder cliffs, a griesly band, I see them sit ; They linger yet,
Avengers of their native land: With me in dreadful harmony they join, And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line. IVeave the warp and wave the woof
The winding sheet of Edward's race : Give ample room and verge enough
The characters of hell to trace.