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if you can. Oil and vinegar, egad! you'll do very well together.

Row. I believe we have no more occasion for Mr. Snake at present?

Snake. Before I go, I beg pardon once for all, for whatever uneasiness I have been the humble instrument of causing to the parties present.

Sir Pet. Well, well, you have made atonement by a good deed at last.

Snake. But I must request of the company that it shall never be known. Sir Pet. Hey! what the plague! are you ashamed of having done a right thing once in your life? Snake. Ah, sir, consider-I live by the badness of my character; I have nothing but my infamy to depend on! and, if it were once known that I had been betrayed into an honest action, I should lose every friend I have in the world.

Sir Oliv. Well, well-we'll not traduce you by saying anything in your praise, never fear. (Exit SNAKE) Sir Pet. There's a precious rogue! Lady Teaz. See, Sir Oliver, there needs no persuasion now to reconcile your nephew and Maria.

Sir Oliv. Ay, ay, that's as it should be, and, egad, we'll have the wedding tomorrow morning.

Chas. Surf. Thank you, dear uncle. Sir Pet. What, you rogue! don't you ask the girl's consent first?

Chas. Surf. Oh, I have done that a long time a minute ago and she has looked yes.

Mar. For shame, Charles!-I protest, Sir Peter, there has not been a word

Sir Oliv. Well, then, the fewer the better; may your love for each other never know abatement.

Sir Pet. And may you live as happily together as Lady Teazle and I intend to do!

Chas. Surf. Rowley, my old friend, I

am sure you congratulate me; and I suspect that I owe you much.

Sir Oliv. You do, indeed, Charles.

Row. If my efforts to serve you had not succeeded you would have been in my debt for the attempt; but deserve to be happy, and you overpay me.

Sir Pet. Ay, honest Rowley always said you would reform.

Chas. Surf. Why, as to reforming, Sir Peter, I'll make no promises, and that I take to be a proof that I intend to set about it. But here shall be my monitormy gentle guide.-Ah! can I leave the virtuous path those eyes illumine?

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Such is my case; and yet I must deplore That spirit-stirring drum!-card drums I That the gay dream of dissipation's

o'er.

And say, ye fair! was ever lively wife,

mean,

Spadille odd trick-pam-basto-king and queen! 3

Born with a genius for the highest life, And you, ye knockers, that, with brazen
Like me untimely blasted in her bloom,
Like me condemn'd to such a dismal

doom?

Save money-when I just knew how to waste it!

Leave London-just as I began to taste

it!

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throat,

The welcome visitors' approach denote;
Farewell all quality of high renown,
Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious

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Farewell! your revels I partake no more, And Lady Teazle's occupation's o'er! Must I then watch the early crowing All this I told our bard; he smiled, and

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said 'twas clear,

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LYRIC POETRY OF THE ROMANTIC PERIOD

THE early nineteenth century, like the Age of Elizabeth, was a favorable time for the development of lyric poetry. During the latter part of the preceding century the rationalism that had dominated the Age of Pope gave way and the value of the emotions and the imagination in human life was once more appreciated. There came changes of political and social significance. Instead of bowing in subservience to social conventions that were beneficial to the group, men recognized increasingly the right of an individual to express himself freely and naturally. These social changes brought changes in the expression of life in literature and in standards of literary taste; and by the last decades of the eighteenth century writers were finding new subjects in the beauties of the countryside, in humble life, and in the real, vital experiences of everyday life. Less emphasis was placed upon precision and rhetoric, and more attention given to expressing naturally what lay closest to the heart. It is lyric poetry that is concerned with just these things, the expression with enthusiasm and directness of the personal thoughts and emotions of the individual.

The lyric poets here represented indicate somewhat the wide range of the lyrics of the time. Robert Burns, the Scotch farmer poet, found his subjects in the world immediately about him, in animals, and in the warm human relationships of men and women that make for happiness. William Wordsworth, living quietly in Northern England, found in Nature the force that would guide man safely, would comfort him and heal the scars of life, and would develop strength and dignity of character; so he wrote of "plain living and high thinking." John Keats, lover of beauty, turned his thoughts to the picturesque past of Greece and medieval England and to the representation of beauty through art. Percy Bysshe Shelley, the idealist worshiping the spirit of freedom, wrote of the upper air, of clouds, the west wind, the skylark,— of the aspiration of the human soul in its longing for the unattainable. Lord Byron wrote much descriptive and narrative poetry, but had also the ability to express lyrically his personal emotions.

Of the group Burns and Shelley have the song quality that was so conspicuous in the earlier lyrics of Elizabeth's day. In general, however, the lyrics of the period are more concerned with interpreting life for us. Each poet gives freely of himself as he translates life through the medium of his personality, and each in his own way reveals the beauty and truth that are the concern of every artist.

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O' clod or stane,

Adorns the histie stibble-field,
Unseen, alane.

There, in thy scanty mantle clad,
Thy snawie bosom sunward spread,
Thou lifts thy unassuming head
In humble guise;

But now the share uptears thy bed,
And low thou lies!

Such is the fate of artless maid,
Sweet floweret of the rural shade!
By love's simplicity betrayed,

And guileless trust,

Till she, like thee, all soiled, is laid
Low i' the dust.

Such is the fate of simple bard,
On life's rough ocean luckless starr'd!
Unskillful he to note the card

Of prudent lore,

Till billows rage, and gales blow hard, And whelm him o'er!

30

40

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In hamely westlin' jingle.

While frosty winds blaw in the drift, Ben to the chimla lug,"

7

I grudge a wee the great-folk's gift, That live sae bien and snug:

I tent 10

9

less, and want less
Their roomy fireside;

But hanker and canker
To see their cursed pride.

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It's hardly in a body's pow'r
To keep, at times, frae being sour,
To see how things are shar'd;
How best o' chiels 11 are whiles in want,
While coofs 12 on countless thousands
rant,13

And ken na how to wair't; ·14

But, Davie, lad, ne'er fash 15 your head;
Tho' we hae little gear,1o
We're fit to win our daily bread,
As lang's we're hale and fier 17
"Mair spier 18 na, nor fear na,

na,"
Auld age ne'er mind a feg,1o
The last o't, the warst o't,

Is only but to beg.

20

31

To lie in kilns an' barns at e'en,
When banes are crazed, and bluid is thin,
Is doubtless great distress!
Yet then content could mak us blest;
Ev'n then, sometimes, we'd snatch a taste
Of truest happiness.

4 hang

• westerly

12 fools

13 riot

14 spend it

• fire

15 bother

7 in

side of the fireplace

16 wealth

17 sound

10 heed

9 comfortable

11 fellows

18 ask

19 fig

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