But you shall hear an odd affair indeed! 66 Impossible!""Nay, but 'tis really true; I had it from good hands, and so may you." "From whose, I pray?"So having named the man, Straight to inquire his curious comrade ran. "Sir, did you tell"--relating the affair 66 Yes, sir, I did; and if 'tis worth your care, 'Twas Mr. Such-a-one, who told it me; But, by the by, 'twas Two black crows, not Three." It was not Two black crows, 'twas only One, I find him ?"—"Why, in such a place." Away he went; and having found him out, Then to his last informant he referred, And begged to know, if true what he had heard ; "Did you, throw up a black crow ?""NOT I.""Bless me!-how people propagate a lie! sir, Black crows have been thrown up, three, two, and one ; "Crow-crow-perhaps I might, now I recall The matter o'er." And, pray, sir, what was't?" Why, I was horrid sick, and at the last 66 I did throw up, and told my neighbour so, Something that was--as black, sir, as a crow." ODE TO INDEPENDENCE. THY spirit, Independence, let me share, My lips, by thee chastised to early truth, Ne'er paid that homage which the heart denies. Those sculptured halls my feet shall never tread, And forge vile shackles for the free-born mind: Full often wreathed around the miscreant's brow: Where ever dimpling Falsehood, pert and vain, With either India's glittering spoils oppressed: For him let venal bards disgrace the bay, And hireling minstrels wake the tinkling string; Her sensual snares let faithless Pleasure lay, And all her gingling bells fantastic Folly ring; Disquiet, doubt, and dread shall intervene, And Nature, still to all her feelings just, In vengeance hang a damp on every scene, Shook from the baneful pinions of Esgust. Nature I'll court in her sequestered haunts, By mountain, meadow, streamlet, grove or cell, And Friendship pledge me to his fellow swains, And fearless Poverty shall guard the door, And Sleep, unbribed, his dews refreshing shed; Shall chase far off the goblins of the night, And Independence o'er the day preside, Propitious power! my patron and my pride. THE MISERIES OF THE POOR AND THE WHERE then, ah! where shall poverty reside, Here, while the proud their long drawn pomps display, The dome where Pleasure holds her midnight reign, Are these thy serious thoughts?-Ah, turn thine eyes She left her wheel, and robes of country brown. AN ELEGY TO PITY, HAIL, lovely power, whose bosom heaves the sigh Not all the sweets Arabia's gales convey From flowery meads, can, with that sigh, compare; Not dew-drops glittering in the morning ray Seem near so beauteous as that falling tear. Devoid of fear, the fawns around thee play; Emblem of peace, the dove before thee flies; No blood-stained traces mark thy blameless way; Beneath thy feet no hapless insect dies. Come, lovely nymph, and range the mead with me, To spring the partridge from the guileful foe, From secret snares the struggling bird to free, And stop the hand upraised to give the blow. And when the air with heat meridian glows, And nature droops beneath the conquering gleam, Let us, slow wandering where the current flows, Save sinking flies that float along the stream. Or turn to nobler, greater tasks thy care;To me thy sympathetic gifts impart, Teach me in friendship's griefs to bear a share, And justly boast the generous feeling heart : Teach me to soothe the helpless orphan's grief, With timely aid the widow's woes assuage, To misery's moving cries to yield relief, And be the sure resource of drooping age. So when the genial spring of life shall fade, And sinking nature owns the dread decay, Some soul congenial then may lend its aid, And gild the close of life's eventful day. THE HERMIT. Ar the close of the day, when the hamlet is still, While his harp rang symphonious, a hermit began ; No more with himself or with nature at war, He thought as a sage, though he felt as a man. "Ah! why all abandoned to darkness and woe; Mourn, sweetest complainer, man calls thee to mourn; Oh! soothe him whose pleasures like thine pass away : Full quickly they pass-but they never return. |