« ForrigeFortsett »
TO MRS. STAPLETON, NOW MRS. COURTNAY.
She came-she is gone-we have met
And meet perhaps never again;
And seems to have risen in vain.
(So vanishes pleasure, alas!)
That will not so suddenly pass.
The last evening ramble we made,
Catharina, Maria, and I,
By the nightingale warbling nigh.
And much she was charm'd with a tone
Who so lately had witness'd her own.
My numbers that day she had sung,
And gave them a grace so divine,
Could infuse into numbers of mine.
The work of my fancy the more,
So tuveful a poet before.
Though the pleasures of London exceed
In number the days of the year, Catharina, did nothing impede,
Would feel herself happier here; For the close-woven arches of limes
On the banks of our river, I know, Are sweeter to her many times
Than aught that the city can show. So it is, when the mind is endued
With a well-judging taste from above, Then, whether embellish'd or rude,
'Tis Nature alone that we love. The achievements of art may amuse,
May even our wonder excite;
A lasting, a sacred delight.
Catharina alone can rejoice, May it still be her lot to possess.
The scene of her sensible choice! To inhabit a mansion remote
From the clatter of street-pacing steeds, And by Philomel's annual note
To measure the life that she leads.
With her book, and her voice, and her lyre,
To wing all her moments at home,
As oft as it suits her to roam,
With little to hope or to fear,
Might we view her enjoying it there.
On her Marriage to George Courtnay, Esq.
Believe it or not, as you choose,
The doctrine is certainly true,
And poets are oracles too.
To see Catharina at home,
And lo-she is actually come.
Such prophecy some may despise ;
But the wish of a poet and friend Perhaps is approved in the skies,
And therefore attains to its end. 'Twas a wish that flew ardently forth
From a bosom effectually warm’d With the talents, the graces, and worth,
Of the person for whom it was form’d.
Maria' would leave us, I know,
To the grief and regret of us all, But less to our grief, could we view
Catharina the queen of the hall :
And therefore I wish'd as I did,
And therefore this union of hands; Not a whisper was heard to forbid,
But all cry—Amen-to the bans.
Since therefore I seem to incur
No danger of wishing in vain, Whey making good wishes for her,
I will ev'n to my wishes againWith one I have made her a wife,
And now I will try with another, Which I cannot suppress for my life
How soon I can make her a mother. GRATITUDE.
ADDRESSED TO LADY HESKETH.
This cap, that so státely appears,
With ribbon-bound tassel on high, Which seems by the crest that it rears
Ambitious of brushing the sky: This cap to my cousin I owe;
She gave it, and gave me beside, Wreathed into an elegant bow,
The ribbon with which it is tied.
This wheel-footed studying chair,
Contrived both for toil and repose, Wide-elbow'd, and wadded with hair,
In which I both scribble and dose, Bright-studded to dazzle the eyes,
And rival the lustre of that In which, or Astronomy lies,
Fair Cassiopeia sat:
These carpets, so soft to the foot,
Caledonia's traffic and pride ! 0, spare them, ye knights of the boot,
Escaped from a cross-country ride! This table and mirror within,
Secure from collision and dust, At which I oft shave cheek and chiu,
And periwig nicely adjust :