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 possess'd
Can I for thee require,
In wedded love already blest,

To thy whole heart's desire?

None here is happy but in part:
Full bliss is bliss divine:

There dwells some wish in ev'ry heart,
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,
Indite much metre with much pains,
And little or no meaning.

And why, since oceans, rivers, streams,
That water all the nations,

Pay tribute to thy glorious beams,
In constant exhalations;

PAIRING TIME ANTICIPATED.

Why, stooping from the noon of day,
Too covetous of drink,

Apollo, hast thou stol'n away

A poet's drop of ink?

Upborne into the viewless air,

It floats a vapour now,

Impell❜d through regions dense and rare,
By all the winds that blow.

Ordain'd, perhaps, ere summer flies,
Combin'd with millions more,

To form an Iris in the skies,
Though black and foul before.

Illustrious drop! and happy then
Beyond the happiest lot,
Of all that ever pass'd my pen,
So soon to be forgot.

Phœbus, if such be thy design,

To place it in thy bow,

Give wit, that what is left may shine
With equal grace below..

198.

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 senses?

"Tis clear that they were always able
To hold discourse at least in fable;
And e'en the child who knows no better,
Than to interpret by the letter,
A story of a cock and bull,

Must have a most uncommon skull.
It chanc'd then on a winter's day,
But warm, and bright, and calm as May,
The birds, conceiving a design

To forestall sweet St. Valentine,

In many an orchard, copse, and grove,
Assembed on affairs of love,

And with much twitter and much chatter,
Began to agitate the matter.

At length a Bulfinch, who could boast
More years and wisdom than the most,
Entreated, op'ning wide his beak,
A moment's liberty to speak;
And, silence publickly enjoin'd,
Deliver'd briefly thus his mind :

My friends! be cautious how ye treat
The subject upon which we meet;

I fear we shall have winter yet.

A Finch, whose tongue knew no control,

With golden wing, and satin poll,

A last year's bird, who ne'er had tried
What marriage means, thus pert replied:
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 approbation

Of an immediate conjugation.
Their sentiments, so well express'd,
Infinenc'd mightily the rest,

All pair'd, and each pair built a nest.

But though the birds were thus in haste, The leaves came on not quite so fast, And destiny, that sometimes bears An aspect stern on man's affairs, Not altogether smil'd on theirs. The wind of late breath'd gently forth, Now shifted east, and east by north; Bare trees and shrubs but ill, you know, Could shelter them from rain or snow. Stepping into their nests, they paddled, Themselves were chill'd, their eggs were addled; Soon ev'ry father bird and mother Grew quarrelsome, and peck'd each other, Parted without the least regret, Except that they had never met; And learn'd, in future, to be wiser Than to neglect a good adviser.

MORAL.

Misses the tale that I relate
This lesson seems to carry-
Choose not alone a proper mate,
But proper time, to marry.

THE DOG

AND

THE WATER-LILY.

NO FABLE.

THE noon was shady, and soft airs
Swept Ouse's silent tide,
When, scap'd from literary cares,

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 wanton'd lost in flags and reeds,
Now starting into sight,
Pursu'd the swallow o'er the meads
With scarce a slower flight.

It was the time when Ouse display'd
His lilies newly blown;

Their beauties I intent survey'd,
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.