For, aided both by ear and scent, Minute the horrors that ensued; His teeth were strong, the cage was wood,— He left it but he should have ta'en! Maria weeps, the Muses mourn; THE ROSE THE rose had been washed, just washed in a shower, Which Mary to Anna conveyed, The plentiful moisture encumbered the flower And weighed down its beautiful head. The cup was all filled, and the leaves were all wet, And it seemed, to a fanciful view, To weep for the buds it had left with regret I hastily seized it, unfit as it was For a nosegay, so dripping and drowned; "And such," I exclaimed, "is the pitiless part Regardless of wringing and breaking a heart "This elegant rose, had I shaken it less, Might have bloomed with its owner awhile; And the tear that is wiped with a little address May be followed perhaps by a smile." THE POET'S NEW-YEAR'S GIFT TO MRS. (AFTERWARDS LADY) THROCKMORTON MARIA! I have every good For thee wished many a time, To wish thee fairer is no need, What favour then not yet possessed In wedded love already blessed None here is happy but in part; There dwells some wish in every heart, That wish, on some fair future day ODE TO APOLLO ON AN INK-GLASS ALMOST DRIED IN THE SUN PATRON of all those luckless brains Ah, why, since oceans, rivers, streams, Pay tribute to thy glorious beams Why, stooping from the noon of day, Apollo, hast thou stolen away A poet's drop of ink? Upborne into the viewless air, It floats a vapour now, Impelled through regions dense and rare Ordained, perhaps, ere summer flies, To form an Iris in the skies, Illustrious drop! and happy then Phœbus, if such be thy design, To place it in thy bow, Give wit, that what is left With equal grace below. may shine CATHARINA ADDRESSED TO MISS STAPLETON (AFTERWARDS MRS. COURTENAY) SHE came-she is gone-we have met— The sun of that moment is set, And seems to have risen in vain. The last evening ramble we made,- Our progress was often delayed By the nightingale warbling nigh. We paused under many a tree, And much she was charmed with a tone Less sweet to Maria and me, Who had witnessed so lately her own. My numbers that day she had sung, Could infuse into numbers of mine. Though the pleasures of London exceed Would feel herself happier here: Than all that the city can show. So it is, when the mind is endued Since, then, in the rural recess The scene of her sensible choice! To inhabit a mansion remote From the clatter of street-pacing steeds, And by Philomel's annual note To measure the life that she leads. With her book, and her voice, and her lyre, And ours will be pleasant as hers Might we view her enjoying it here. CATHARINA THE SECOND PART ON HER MARRIAGE TO GEORGE COURTENAY, ESQ. BELIEVE it or not, as you chuse, The doctrine is certainly true, I did but express a desire To see Catharina at home, At the side of my friend George's fire, Such prophecy some may despise, And therefore attains to its end. Maria would leave us, I knew, To the grief and regret of us all, And therefore this union of hands; Since therefore I seem to incur And now I will try with another, |