« PreviousContinue »
TO THE SAME,
ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF HER WEDDING-DAY, WHICH WAS
ALSO HER BIRTH-DAY, WITH A RING.
“ Thee, Mary, with this ring I wed”
With that first ring I married youth,
If she, by merit since disclos'd,
Here then to-day, (with faith as sure,
My soul enjoys, my song approves,
And why!—They shew me every hour, Honour's high thought, Affection's power, Discretion's deed, sound Judgment's sentence,And teach me all things—but repentance.
QUOD PETIS, HIC EST.
No plate had John and Joan to hoard,
Plain folk, in humble plight;
And that was fill’d each night;
Along whose inner bottom sketch'd,
In pride of chubby grace,
A baby angel's face.
John swallow'd first a moderate sup;
But Joan was not like John;
She swill'd, till all was gone.
John often urg'd her to drink fair ;
But she ne'er chang'd a jot; She lov'd to see the angel there,
And therefore drain'd the pot.
When John found all remonstrance vain,
Another card he play'd;
He got a Devil portray'd.
Joan saw the horns, Joan saw the tail,
Yet Joan as stoutly quaff'd; And ever, when she seiz'd her ale,
She clear'd it at a draught.
John star'd, with wonder petrified;
His hair stood on his pate;
66 At this enormous rate?".
“ Oh! John,” she said, “ am I to blame?
I can't in conscience stop: « For sure 'twould be a burning shame,
• To leave the Devil a drop!"
See! stretch'd on nature's couch of grass,
The foot-sore-traveller lies!
For all his wants suffice.
For him the sun its power displays,
In either hemisphere;
And shines to light it—here !
QUOCUNQUE MODO REM.
A VETERAN gambler in a tempest caught,
BORN 1754.-DIED 1796.
John BAMPFYLDE was the younger brother of Sir Charles Bampfylde. He was educated at Cambridge, and published his sonnets? when very young. He soon after fell into mental derangement; and is said to have passed the last years of his life in confinement.
As when, to one, who long hath watch'd the morn
Advancing, slow forewarns th' approach of day, (What time the young and flow'ry-kirtled May
Decks the green hedge, and dewy grass unshorn With cowslips pale, and many a whitening thorn ;)
And now the sun comes forth, with level ray Gilding the high-wood top, and mountain gray;
And, as he climbs, the meadows 'gins adorn; The rivers glisten to the dancing beam,
Th’awaken’d birds begin their amorous strain,
And hill and vale with joy and fragrance teem; Such is the sight of thee; thy wish'd return To eyes, like mine, that long have wak'd to mourn,
That long have watch'd for light, and wept in vain !
i Censura Literaria, vol iv. p. 301.