"He once or twice had penn'd a sonnet;

Yet hoped, that he might save his bacon : Numbers would give their oaths upon it,

He ne'er was for a conj'rer taken."

The ghostly prudes with hagged face
Already had condemn'd the sinner.

My lady rose, and with a grace

She smiled, and bid him come to dinner.

'Jesu-Maria! Madam Bridget,

Why, what can the Viscountess mean?" (Cried the square-hoods in woful fidget) "The times are alter'd quite and clean!

"Decorum's turn'd to mere civility;

Her air and all her manners show it. Commend me to her affability!

Speak to a commoner and a poet !"

[Here five hundred stanzas are lost.]

And so God save our noble king,

And guard us from long-winded lubbers,

That to eternity would sing,

And keep my lady from her rubbers.

POEMS AND FRAGMENTS.

ODE ON THE PLEASURE ARISING FROM

VICISSITUDE.

NOW the golden morn aloft

Waves her dew-bespangled wing,
With vermeil cheek and whisper soft
She woos the tardy spring :

Till April starts, and calls around

The sleeping fragrance from the ground;

And lightly o'er the living scene

Scatters his freshest, tenderest green.

New-born flocks, in rustic dance,

Frisking ply their feeble feet;
Forgetful of their wintry trance,

The birds his presence greet:

But chief, the skylark warbles high
His trembling thrilling ecstasy;

And, lessening from the dazzled sight,
Melts into air and liquid light.

Rise, my soul! on wings of fire,
Rise the rapt'rous choir among;
Hark! 'tis nature strikes the lyre,
And leads the gen'ral song:
'Warm let the lyric transport flow,
Warm as the ray that bids it glow;
And animates the vernal grove

With health, with harmony, and love.

Yesterday the sullen year

Saw the snowy whirlwind fly; Mute was the music of the air, The herd stood drooping by : Their raptures now that wildly flow, No yesterday nor morrow know; 'Tis man alone that joy descries With forward, and reverted eyes.

Smiles on past misfortune's brow

Soft reflection's hand can trace; And o'er the cheek of sorrow throw A melancholy grace;