« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »
'Tis clear that they were always able
It chanc'd then on a winter's day,
My friends be cautious how ye treat
A Finch, whose tongue knew no control,
Methinks the gentleman, quoth she, Opposite in the apple tree, By his good will would keep us single Till yonder Heav'n and earth shall mingle ; Or, (which is likelier to befall,) Till death exterminate us all. I marry without more ado, My dear Dick Redcap, what say you ?
Dick heard, and tweedling, ogling, bridling, Turning short round, strutting, and sideling,
Attested, glad, his approbaticn
But though the birds were thus in haste,
Misses ! the tale that I relate
This lesson seems to carry-
But proper time, to marry.
THE noon was shady, and soft airs
Swept Ouse's silent tide,
I wander'd on his side.
My spaniel, prettiest of his race,
And high in pedigree, (Two nymphs* adorn'd with ev'ry grace
That spaniel found for me.)
Now starting into sight,
With scarce a slower flight.
His lilies newly blown;
And one I wish'd my own.
With cane extended far I sought
To steer it close to land; But still the prize, though nearly caught, Escap'd my eager hand.
* Sir Robert Gunning's daughters.
Beau mark'd my unsuccessful pains
With fix'd considerate face, And puzzling set his puppy
Dispersing all his dream,
The windings of the stream.
My ramble ended, I return'd;
Beau trotting far beforc,
And plunging left the shore.
Impatient swim to meet
The treasure at my feet. Charm'd with the sight, the world, I cried
Shall hear of this thy deed : My dog shall mortify the pride
Of man's superiour breed :
But chief myself I will enjoin,
Awake at duty's call,
To him who gives me all.
THE POET, THE OYSTER,
AN Oyster, cast upon the shore, Was heard, though never heard before,
Complaining in a speech well worded,
Ah, hapless wretch ! condemned to dwell
When, cry the botanists, and stare, Did plants call'd sensitive grow there? No matter when—a poet's muse is, To make them grow just where she chooses
You shapeless nothing in a dish, You that are but almost a fish, I scorn your coarse insinuation, And have most plentiful occasion, To wish myself the rock I view, Or such another dolt as you: For many a grave and learned clerk, A many a gay unletter'd spark, With curious touch examines me, If I can feel as well as he ; And when I bend, retire, and shrink, Says-Well, 'tis more than one would think ! Thus life is spent, (oh fie upon't !) In being touch'd, and crying-Don't !
A poet in his ev'ning walk, O’erheard, and check'd this idle talk.