"In vain the feather'd songsters raise "The flow'rs in splendid beauty gay, «Ye, who are lost to purer joys, Go, sigh for gilded fleeting toys, Th' illusions of an hour; But still may I at early day, As through the vale unseen I stray, "Do thou, celestial maid, inspire A kindly glimpse of heavenly fire, Do thou propitious smile; A ray of thy all-cheering light, Shall soon dispel the clouds of night, Literary Magazine. THE CARELESS COUPLE. JENNY is poor, and I am poor, Yet we will wed-so say no more; And should the bairns you mention comé, but have some, As few that marry No doubt but Heav'n will stand our friend, She clucks amongst her chirping brood; That scratch'd for one, could scratch for ten: Anonymous. ་་ ་ VERSES Written in Jamaica, in the Dog Days. TO A FRIEND. O'ER fertile vales, and mountains green, You bid my wand'ring eye to stray; And tell me each surrounding scene Affords a subject for my lay. "Go, sing yon pure meand'ring stream, That thro' luxuriant valleys roves ; That now reflects the noontide beam, Now hides within the fragrant groves. "Did e'er your boasted native Tweed In such romantic windings play? Or found he e'er so fair a mead, Thro' which to sport his wanton way?. "Bleak, bare, and barren, Cheviot lours; Chill is the wind, and keen the frost, But these more lofty hills of ours Eternal vegetation boast." My eye, 'tis true, this moment views My heart unfir'd, my harp unstrung. Say, what avails the scented grove? Or can we half their sweets inhale ? Or, what avails the mountain's pride, A burning sun, a sultry air, Our nerves in listless languor bind; In temp❜rate climates reign the nine, And fancy kindles all the soul. wtf But, underneath this glowing sky, Our first felicity is ease :< Be Give me in indolence to lie; you the poet, if yon please. PROMOTION IN THE NAVY. BEN BLOCK was a veteran of naval renown, For the board still neglected his merits to crown, of men, And the scuppers were streaming with gore. Nor could a lieutenant's poor stipend provoke But his biscuit he'd crack, turn his quid, crack a joke, That year after year, in a subaltern's state, When, on humbly saluting, with sinciput bare, Says his lordship," Lieutenant, you've lost all your hair," "Why, my lord," reply'd Ben, "it with truth may be said, While a bald pate I long have stood under, There have so many captains walk'd over my head, To see me quite scalp'd 'twere no wonder." Anonymous. |