THE LILY AND THE ROSE

THE nymph must lose her female friend,
If more admir'd than she-

But where will fierce contention end,
If flowers can disagree?

Within the garden's peaceful scene
Appear'd two lovely foes,
Aspiring to the rank of queen,
The Lily and the Rose.

The Rose soon redden'd into rage,
And, swelling with disdain,
Appeal'd to many a poet's page
To prove her right to reign.

The Lily's height bespoke command,
A fair imperial flower;

She seem'd design'd for Flora's hand,
The sceptre of her power.

This civil bick'ring and debate
The goddess chanc'd to hear,
And flew to save, ere yet too late,
The pride of the parterre.

Yours is, she said, the nobler hue,
And yours the statelier mien;
And, till a third surpasses you,
Let each be deem'd a queen.

Thus, sooth'd and reconcil'd, each seeks The fairest British fair;

The seat of empire is her cheeks,

They reign united there.

A COMPARISON

THE lapse of time and rivers is the same,
Both speed their journey with a restless stream;
The silent pace, with which they steal away
No wealth can bribe, no prayers persuade to stay;
Alike irrevocable both when past,

And a wide ocean swallows both at last.

Though each resemble each in every part,

A diff'rence strikes at length the musing heart; Streams never flow in vain; where streams abound, How laughs the land with various plenty crown'd! But time, that should enrich the nobler mind, Neglected leaves a dreary waste behind,

ANOTHER

ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY.

SWEET stream that winds through yonder glade, Apt emblem of a virtuous maid

Silent and chaste she steals along,

Far from the world's gay busy throng;
With gentle yet prevailing force,
Intent upon her destin'd course;
Graceful and useful all she does,
Blessing and bless'd where'er she goes
Pure-bosom'd as that wat'ry glass,
And heaven reflected in her face,

THE POET'S NEW-YEAR'S GIFT

TO MRS. (NOW LADY) THROCKMORTON.

MARIA! I have every good

For thee wish'd many a time,
Both sad and in a cheerful mood,
But never yet in rhyme.

To wish thee fairer is no need,
More prudent, or more sprightly,
Or more ingenious, or more freed
From temper-flaws unsightly.

What favour then not yet possess'd,
Can I for thee require,

In wedded love already bless'd
To thy whole heart's desire ?

None here is happy but in part:
Full bliss is bliss divine;

There dwells some wish in every heart,
And doubtless one in thine.

That wish, on some fair future day,
Which Fate shall brightly gild,
('Tis blameless be it what it may),
I wish it all fulfill'd.

ODE TO APOLLO.

ON AN INK-GLASS ALMOST DRIED IN THE SUN.

PATRON of all those luckless brains,
That, to the wrong side leaning,
Indite much metre with much pains,
And little or no meaning:

Ah why, since oceans, rivers, streams,
That water all the nations,

Pay tribute to thy glorious beams,
In constant exhalations.

Why, stooping from the noon of day,
Too covetous of drink,
Apollo, hast thou stolen away
A poet's drop of ink?

Upborne into the viewless air
It floats a vapour now,

Impell'd through regions dense and rare,
By all the winds that blow

Ordain'd perhaps ere summer flies,
Combin'd with millions more,
To form an Iris in the skies,
Though black and foul before.

Illustrious drop! and happy then
Beyond the happiest lot,
Of all that ever pass'd my pen,
So soon to be forgot!

Phœbus, if such be thy design,
To place it in thy bow,

Give wit, that what is left may shine
With equal grace below.

PAIRING TIME ANTICIPATED.

A FABLE.

I SHALL not ask Jean Jacques Rousseau*
If birds confabulate or no ;

It was one of the whimsical speculations of this philosopher. that all the fables which ascribe reason and speech to animals should be withheld from children, as being vehicles of deception. But what child was ever deceived by them, or can be against the evidence of his senses?

364

PAIRING TIME ANTICIPATED.

'Tis clear that they were always able
To hold discourse, at least in fable;
And even the child that knows no better
Than to interpret the letter,

A story of a cock and bull,

Must have a most uncommon skull.
It chanc'd then on a winter's day,
But warm, and bright, and calm as May,
The birds, conceiving a design

To forestall sweet St. Valentine,

In many an orchard, copse, and grove,
Assembled on affairs of love,

And with much twitter and much chatter,
Began to agitate the matter.

At length a Bulfinch who could boast
More years and wisdom than the most,
Entreated, opened wide his beak,
A moments liberty to speak;
And silence publicly enjoined,
Deliver'd briefly thus his mind :--

My friends! be cautious how you treat
She subject upon which we meet ;
I fear we shall have winter yet.

A Finch whose tongue knew no control,
With golden wing, and satin poll,

A last year's bird, who ne'er had tried
What marriage means, thus pert replied:
Methinks the gentleman, qouth she,
Opposite in the apple-tree,

By his good will would keep us single
Till yonder heaven and earth shall mingle,
Or (which is likelier to befall)

Till death exterminate us all.

I'll marry without more ado,

My dear Dick Redcap, what say you?

Dick heard, and tweedling, ogling, bridling, Turning short round, strutting and sideling, Attested, glad, his approbation,

Of an immediate conjugation.

Their sentiments so well express'd

Influenc'd mightily the rest,

All pair'd, and each pair built a nest.

But though the birds were thus in haste,

The leaves came on not quite so fast,
And Destiny, that sometimes bears
An aspect stern on man's affairs,
Not altogether smil'd on theirs.