X. Soft as the passing wind, A lesson for mankind. A FABLE. A RAVEN, while with glossy breast and the brood is safe'; (For ravens, though as birds of omen They teach both conj’rers and old women, To tell us what is to befall, Can't prophesy themselves at ali ;) The morning came, when reighbour Hodge Who long had mark'd her airy lodge, 'Tis over, And destin'd all the treasure there MORAL. а "Tis Providence alone secures A COMPARISON. THE lapse of time and rivers is the same, a 196 THE POET'S NEW YEAR'S GIFT. Streams never flow in vain; where streams abound, ANOTHER. ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY. SWEET stream, that winds through yonder glade, Apt emblem of a virtuous maidSilent, and chaste she steals along, Far from the worlds 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 Heav'n reflected in her face. THE POET'S NEW-YEAR'S GIFT. TO MRS. (NOW LADY) THROCKMORTON. MARIA! I have ev'ry good For thee wish'd many a time, 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 possessid Can I for thee require, To thy whole heart's desire ? Full bliss is bliss divine : 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 Inkglass almost dried in the sun PATRON of all those luckless brains, That, to the wrong side leaning, And little or no meaning. That water all the nations, Why, stooping from the noon of day, Too covetous of drink, A poet's drop of ink ? Upborne into the viewless air, It floats a vapour now, By all the winds that blow. Combin'd with millions more, Though black and foul before. Beyond the happiest lot, So soon to be forgot. To place it in thy bow, With equal grace below. PAIRING TIME ANTICIPATED. A FABLE. I SHALL not ask Jean Jaques Rosseau, * If birds confabulate or no; * It was one of the whimsical speculations of this philosopher, that all fables, which ascribe reason and speech to animals, shonld be withheld from children, as being only vehicles of deception. But what child was ever deceived by them, or can be, against the evidence of his sensos ? |