Wish'd that Margaret would take heed In her heart she doubted whether She could keep whole weeks at distance, With such speeches, smoothly made, She found methods to persuade Margaret (who being sore From the doubts she'd felt before, Was prepared for mistrust) To believe her reasons just; Quite destroy'd that comfort glad, Which in Mary late she had; Made her, in experience' spite, Think her friend a hypocrite, And resolve, with cruel scoff, To renounce and cast her off. See how good turns are rewarded! But the league her presence cherish'd, But the heart of friendship slept; Two long years did intervene Of their old companion heard,- "That young maid in face does carry She-but, ah! how changed they view her Her fine face disease had scarr'd, And its matchless beauty marr'd :— When her eye did first behold them, Months, while they had kept away, If she were alive or dead ;- The illness, when she might have mended,-- But sweet Mary, still the same, Kindly eased them of their shame ; Spoke to them with accents bland, Took them friendly by the hand; Bound them both with promise fast, Not to speak of troubles past; Made them on the spot declare A new league of friendship there; Which, without a word of strife, Lasted thenceforth long as life. Martha now and Margaret Strove who most should pay the debt Which they owed her, nor did vary Ever after from their Mary. Ghost-like I paced round the haunts of my child- The place was such, that whoso enter'd in, hood. Earth seem'd a desert I was bound to traverse, Friend of my bosom, thou more than a brother, Disrobed was of every earthly thought, Or to the world's first innocence was brought; A most strange calm stole o'er my soothed sprite; How some they have died, and some they have When lo! I saw, saw by the sweet moon-light, left me, And some are taken from me; all are departed; Which came in silence o'er that silent shade, Where, near the fountain, SOMETHING like DESPAIR Made, of that weeping willow, garlands for her hair. And eke with painful fingers she inwove Many an uncouth stem of savage thorn-"The willow garland, that was for her love, And these her bleeding temples would adorn." With sighs her heart nigh burst, salt tears fast fell, As mournfully she bended o'er that sacred well. To whom when I addrest myself to speak, She lifted up her eyes, and nothing said; The delicate red came mantling o'er her cheek, And, gath'ring up her loose attire, she fled To the dark covert of that woody shade, And in her goings seem'd a timid gentle maid. Revolving in my mind what this should mean, "PSYCHE am I, who love to dwell In these brown shades, this woody dell, At thy feet what thou dost see If haply so my day of grace "Why dost thou weep, thou gentle maid! "O! I have done a deed of shame, "And who the promised spouse? declare: And what those bridal garments were." "Severe and saintly righteousness Composed the clear white bridal dress; JESUS, the Son of Heaven's high King, Bought with his blood the marriage ring. A wretched sinful creature, I Deem'd lightly of that sacred tie, Gave to a treacherous WORLD my heart, "Now Christ restore thee soon"-I said, And thenceforth all my dream was fled. DIALOGUE BETWEEN A MOTHER AND CHILD. CHILD. "O LADY, lay your costly robes aside, No longer may you glory in your pride." MOTHER. Wherefore to-day art singing in mine ear CHILD. O mother, lay your costly robes aside, MOTHER. I pray thee, pretty one, now hold thy tongue, Play with the bride-maids; and be glad, my boy, For thou shalt be a second father's joy. CHILD. One father fondled me upon his knee. One father is enough, alone, for me. QUEEN ORIANA'S DREAM. ON a bank with roses shaded, While o'er head six slaves did hold And two more did music keep, Thus far, in magnific strain, A young poet soothed his vein, But he had nor prose nor numbers To express a princess' slumbers.-Youthful Richard had strange fancies, Was deep versed in old romances, And could talk whole hours upon The Great Cham and Prester John,Tell the field in which the Sophi From the Tartar won a trophyWhat he read with such delight of, Thought he could as eas'ly write ofBut his over-young invention Kept not pace with brave intention. Twenty suns did rise and set, And he could no further get; But, unable to proceed, Made a virtue out of need, And, his labours wiselier deem'd of, Did omit what the queen dream'd of. In a costly palace if the child with a pin Do but chance to prick a finger, straight the doctor is called in ; In a wretched workhouse men are left to perish For want of proper cordials, which their old age might cherish. In a costly palace Youth enjoys his lust; Had children to stand by him, both friends and kinsmen too. In a costly palace Youth his temples hides With a new-devised peruke that reaches to his sides; In a wretched workhouse Age's crown is bare, With a few thin locks just to fence out the cold air. In peace, as in war, 'tis our young gallants' pride, To walk, each one i' the streets, with a rapier by his side, That none to do them injury may have pretence; Wretched Age, in poverty, must brook offence. A BALLAD. NOTING THE DIFFERENCE OF RICH AND POOR, IN THE WAYS OF A RICH NOBLE'S PALACE AND A POOR WORKHOUSE. To the Tune of the "Old and Young Courtier." IN a costly palace Youth goes clad in gold; In a costly palace, when the brave gallants dine, They have store of good venison, with old canary wine, With singing and music to heighten the cheer; Coarse bits, with grudging, are the pauper's best fare. In a costly palace Youth is still carest By a train of attendants which laugh at my young Lord's jest ; In a wretched workhouse the contrary prevails : Does Age begin to prattle?—no man heark'neth to his tales. HYPOCHONDRIACUS. By myself walking, Thy dreams ominous." Fierce Anthropophagi, Spectra, Diaboli, What scared St. Anthony, Scruples fantastical, Doubts diabolical; Abaddon vexeth me, Jesu! Maria! liberate nos ab his diris tentationibus Inimici. A FAREWELL TO TOBACCO. MAY the Babylonish curse In this word-perplexity, Or a fit expression find, Or a language to my mind, (Still the phrase is wide or scant) To take leave of thee, GREAT PLANT! Or in any terms relate Half my love, or half: my hate: Sooty retainer to the vine, 'Gainst women: thou thy siege dost lay Much too in the female way, While thou suck'st the lab'ring breath Faster than kisses or than death. Thou in such a cloud dost bind us, That our worst foes cannot find us, And ill fortune, that would thwart us, Shoots at rovers, shooting at us; While each man, through thy height'ning steam, Does like a smoking Etna seem, And all about us does express (Fancy and wit in richest dress) A Sicilian fruitfulness. Thou through such a mist dost show us, That our best friends do not know us, And, for those allowèd features, Due to reasonable creatures, Liken'st us to fell Chimeras, Monsters that, who see us, fear us; Worse than Cerberus or Geryon, Or, who first loved a cloud, Ixion. Bacchus we know, and we allow His tipsy rites. But what art thou, That but by reflex canst show What his deity can do, As the false Egyptian spell Aped the true Hebrew miracle? Some few vapours thou may'st raise, The weak brain may serve to amaze, But to the reins and nobler heart Canst nor life nor heat impart. Brother of Bacchus, later born, Or judge of thee meant: only thou Scent to match thy rich perfume Stinking'st of the stinking kind, Filth of the mouth and fog of the mind, Africa, that brags her foison, Breeds no such prodigious poison, Henbane, nightshade, both together, Hemlock, aconite Nay, rather, Plant divine, of rarest virtue; |