In February's faint essay,
We gladly mark the lengthen'd day :
Bleak March's keener winds succeed,
Rough as the newly-mounted steed:
April a flattering face will wear,
Resembling a coquettish fair;
E'en May is often prov'd a bite,
Warms in the day, but chills at night!
Bright June, in gayest liv'ry drest,
Of Flora's glory is the test;
July presides in Phoebus' smiles,
Whose evening human care beguiles;
Brown August sober pleasure brings,
Maturing heat upon his wings:
September offers to our reach
The cluster'd grape and blushing peach:
October's waning influence yields
The sportsmen pleasure in the fields :
November's soaking show'rs require
The changed coat and blazing fire:
And dark December, in the end,
Requires a book and cheerful friend!
It is enough for crime once to begin,
One error's sure to draw another sin :
Honour is like an isle with craggy shore,
Deserted once we enter there no more.
Pat was trying a new pair of boots t'other night, Which for such a great calf were a great deal too tight,
Such vexation wou'd make a stone speak.
By Saint Patrick," said Pat, "no exertion will do ; "These cursed new boots I shall never get through "Till I've worn them, at least, for a week!"
By a couple of lovers was Lucy address'd
And to marry, with earnestness, equally press'd;
The one was a youth piping hot from the college,
The other a fellow replete with town knowledge :
To gain her good graces both studiously try'd
But in different directions their flatt'ry apply'd :
The classical lover paid court to her mind;
To her person the buck all his incense confined.—
Determin'd at length, to declare her fix'd choice,
For the latter she gave her definitive voice :
She rejected the scholar though Master of Arts,
And stuck to the man with his natural parts.
THE WIDOW'S WEEDS.
Why is a garden's wilder'd maze,
Like a young widow fresh and fair ?—
Because it wants some hand to 'rase,
The weeds which have no business there.
THE CONGRESS AT VIENNA.
In cutting and dealing and playing their cards,
Revoking and shuffling for tricks and rewards,
The kings have been changed into knaves, and the rest
Of the honors have either been lost or suppressed.
ON LADIES' EVENING DRESSES.
When dressed for the evening the girls now-a-days
Scarce an atom of dress on them leave;
Nor blame them-for what is an evening dress,
But a dress that is suited for Eve?
Dean Swift's barber one day told him that he had taken a public house. "And what's your sign?" said the deun. "Oh, the pole and hason; and if your worship would just write me a few lines to put upon it, by way of motte, 1 have no doubt but it would draw me plenty of customers." The dean took out his pencil, and wrote the following couplet, which long graced the barber's sign:
"Rove not from pole to pole, but step in here, Where nought excels the shaving, but the beer."
THE HENPECKED HUSBAND.
As Thomas was cudgel'd one day by his wife,
He took to the street, and fled for his life :
Tom's three dearest friends came by in the squabble,
And sav'd him at once from the shrew and the rabble;
Then ventur'd to give him some sobér advice—
But Tom was a person of honour so nice,
Too wise to take counsel, too proud to take warning,
That he sent to all three a challenge next morning :
Three duels he fought, thrice ventur'd his life ;
Went home and was cudgel'd again by his wife.
On the Election of a Mr. William Evill to the Office of Cryer.
Crying into this world he came,
Evil he was-they called him Bill;
And to his great disgrace and shame,
He is a crying evill—still !
(Written at Holly Lodge, Highgate, by the Duke of Gordon, and presented in the Drawing-room by the Marquis of Huntley.),
An apple, we know, caus'd old Adam's disgrace,
Who from Paradise quickly was driven;
But your's, my dear Tom, is a happier case ›
For a MELON transports you to heaven.
That Milkmen are philosophers 'tis true,
They keep celestial elements in view;
And howsoe'er their fellow men complain
Of dismal prospects and incessant rain,
Their scene's transform'd to sky-blue twice a day-
They get their living by the milky way.
SAUNTERING JOE; OR, THE SLOW FOOTMAN.
Would you see a man that's slow?
Come and see our footman, Joe,
Most unlike the bounding roe,
Or an arrow from a bow,
'Or the flight direct of crow,
Is the pace of footman Joe.
Crabs that hobble to and fro,
In their motions copy Joe.
Snails, contemptuous as they go,
Look behind and laugh at Joe.
An acre any man may mow,
Ere across it crawleth Joe.
Trip on light fantastic toe
Ye that tripping like, for Joe;
Measured steps of solemn woe
Better suit with steady Joe.
Danube, Severn, Trent, and Po,
Backward to the source shall flow,
Ere dispatch be made by Joe.
Letters to a Plenipo,
Send not by our footman Joe.
Would you Job's full merit know,
Ring the bell, and wait for Joe;
Whether it be King or no,
"Tis just alike to lazy Joe.
Legal process none can shew,
If your lawyer move like Joe.
Death, at last, our common foe,
Must trip up the heels of Joe;
And a stone shall tell-" Below,
"Hardly changed, still sleepeth Joe.
"Loud shall the final trumpet blow,
"But the last comer will be Joe."
EFFECTS OF GOOD AND BAD ACTIONS.
Do good with pain, the pleasure in't you'll find, The pain's soon past, the good remains behind; Do ill with pleasure, this you've for your pains, The pleasure passes soon, the ill remains.
Miss Sensibilia, as her tears were flowing,
For the distresses of a fictious tale,
Sigh'd o'er her novel,-all her praise bestowing
Upon the feeling heart of Nancy Vale.
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