Egad, though true, I prythee list,
That charm she owes to Kitty's fist.
Charles to the altar led the lovely Jane,
Then to her father's house returned again,
Where, to convey them on their wedding tour
Already stood a landaulet and four.
But, lo! the gathering showers at once descend,
Clouds roll on cloud, and warring winds contend!
This moves him not, but in he hands his bride,
Then seats himself enraptured by her side
And to console his Fair he thus begun,
"I hope we soon shall have a little sun."
But she, to whom the weather gave no pain,
Who heeded not the clouds or pattering rain,
But most about her future cares bethought her,
Replied, "My dear, I'd rather have a daughter."
PICTURE OF AN AMIABLE WIFE.
The maid I shall love must be free from disguise, Wear her heart on her lips, and her soul in her eyes;
A soul by the precepts of virtue informed,
And a heart by the purest benevolence warm'd.
Her converse so varied as ever to please,
Unaffectedly cheerful, and polished, with ease;
Her person attractive, her temper serene,
And her wit, rather brilliant and playful, than keen :
Whene'er, ye pow'rs, I possess such a wife,
I shall hail it the happiest moment of life.
Two or three dears and two or three sweets,
Two or three balls and two or three treats;
Two or three serenades giv'n as a lure,
Two or three oaths how much they endure;
Two or three messages sent in one day,
Two or three times led out from the play,
Two or three soft speeches made by the way;
Two or three tickets for two or three times,
Two or three love letters writ all in rhymes;
Two or three months keeping strict to these rules,
Can never fail of making a couple of fools.
Written on a LOOKING GLASS.
I change and so do women too,
But I reflect that women never do.
If women reflected, oh, scribbler declare,
What man! faithless man, would be blessed by the fair?
ON THE DEMOLITION OF FRIAR BACON'S STUDY
Roger! if with thy magic glasses
Running, thou see'st below what passes,
As when on earth thou did'st descry
With them the wonders of the sky-
Look down on yon devoted walls!
O! save them-ere thy Study falls!
Or to thy votaries quick impart
The secret of thy mystic art :
Teach us, ere learning's quite forsaken,
To honour thee, and-save our Bacon!
SUNSET AND SUNRISE.
Contemplate, when the sun declines
Thy death, with deep reflection!
And when again he rising shines,
Thy day of resurrection.
No more the laughing maiden's eye
Will sparkle when I pass her by,
Nor will she breathe a melting sigh,
Nor, blushing with the rose-tint vie.
Dreary my lot in life must be,
No cherub infant smiles on me,
Or prattling dances on my knee;
No, I, unfretted, wander free.
Yes, I am free, and wander here,
Without a single smile to cheer
The thorny road that cares may rear,
Or frowns of sorrow chill and drear.
Alone I gaze upon the waste,
And think on bliss too late to taste;
Yes! think of one who might have graced,
The space where sorrow now is placed.
I'll lay my life,' said Dick, elate,
I'll leap my horse o'er yonder gate.'
Down came poor Dick upon his head,
And lost his life-just what he laid.
TO MR. FOOTE, WHO MARRIED MISS PATTEN.
With a Patten to wife,
Through the rough road of life,
May you safely and merrily jog;
May the ring never break,
Nor the tie prove too weak,
Nor the Foote find the Patten a Clog.
LINES WRITTEN BENEATH A PICTURE.
Dear object of defeated care!
Though now of love and thee bereft,
To reconcile me with despair,
Thine image and my tears are left.
'Tis said, with sorrow Time can cope,
But this I feel can ne'er be true;
For, by the death-blow of my Hope,
My memory immortal grew.
ON THE MARRIAGE OF MR. RICE TO MISS SALLY
What strange, fantastic airy whim
By different folks are taken!
She sups upon a dish of Rice,
While he prefers the Bacon!
By Chevalier Lawrence.
Love and Folly, while at school,
Quarrelling on this or that;
He call'd her a silly fool,
She call'd him a saucy brat.
Love strikes Folly with his bow,
Folly in a fury flies,
And, in vengeance of the blow,
Scratches out poor Cupid's eyes.
Venus, all in tribulation,
To the court of Jove repairs;
And, as a just compensation,
Jove his sov'reign will declares.
"Since he's blind," the god decreed,
"And since Folly made him so,
"She the erring boy shall lead,
"She his guide where'er he go."
Ever since, as in a tether,
She has been the urchin's guide;
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