Beau mark'd my unsuccessful pains But with a cherup clear and strong, I thence withdrew, and follow'd long My ramble ended, I return'd; The floating wreath again discern'd, I saw him with that lily cropp'd, My quick approach, and soon he dropp'd Charm'd with the sight, the world, I cried, My dog shall mortify the pride But chief myself 1 will enjoin, To show a love as prompt as thine, THE POET, THE OYSTER AND SENSITIVE PLANT. AN Oyster, cast upon the shore, Was heard, though never heard before, Complaining in a speech well worded. Ah, hapless wretch! condemned to dwell For ever in my native shell; Ordain'd to move when others please, Not for my own content or ease · I envy that unfeeling shrub, The plant he meant grew not far off, When, cry the botanists, and stare,, To make them grow just where she chooses You that are but almost a fish, 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! And your fine sense, he said, and yours, Deserves not, if so soon offended, You, in your grotto work enclos'd, And as for you, my Lady Squeamish, Should drop and wither where they grow, His censure reach'd them as he dealt it, And each by shrinking show'd he felt it. THE SHRUBBERY. WRITTEN IN A TIME OF AFFLICTION. I. OH happy shades-to me unblest! And heart that cannot rest, agree' II. This glassy stream, that spreading pino But fix'd, unalterable Care Foregoes not what she feels within, Shows the same sadness ev'ry where, And slights the season and the scene. IV. For all that pleas'd in wood or lawn, While peace possess'd these silent bow'rs, Her animating smile withdrawn, Has lost its beauties and its pow'rs V. The saint or moralist should tread This moss-grown alley, musing, slow; They seek like me the secret shade, VI. Me fruitful scenes and prospects waste And those of sorrows yet to come. THE WINTER NOSEGAY I. WHAT Nature, alas! has denied To the delicate growth of our isle, Art has in a measure supplied, And winter is deck'd with a smile VOL. I 18 See, Mary, what beauties I bring From the shelter of that sunny shed, Where the flow'rs have the charms of the spring, Though abroad they are frozen and dead, II. "Tis a bow'r of Arcadian sweets, Where Flora is still in her prime, A fortress to which she retreats From the cruel assaults of the clime Those pinks are as fresh and as gay See how they have safely surviv'd MUTUAL FORBEARANCE NECESSARY TO THE HAPPINESS OF THE MARRIED STATE. THE Lady thus address'd her spouse― |