Fate steals along with silent tread, Found oft'nest in what least we dread, But in the sunshine strikes the blow. A COMPARISON. THE lapse of time and rivers is the same, And a wide ocean swallows both at last. ANOTHER. ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY. SWEET stream, that winds through yonder glade, Apt emblem of a virtuous maid Silent and chaste she steals along, Far from the world's gay busy throng; With gentle yet prevailing force, Intent upon her destin'd course; Graceful and useful all she does, THE POET'S NEW-YEAR'S-GIFT. TO MRS. (NOW LADY) THROCKMORTON. MARIA! I have ev'ry good For thee wish'd many a time, To wish thee fairer is no need, What favour then not yet possess'd In wedded love already blest, To thy whole heart's desire? None here is happy but in part: There dwells some wish in ev'ry heart, And doubtless one in thine. That wish on some fair future day, ODE TO APOLLO. ON AN INKGLASS ALMOST DRIED IN THE SUN, PATRON of all those luckless brains, Ah why, since oceans, rivers, streams, Pay tribute to thy glorious beams, Why, stooping from the noon of day, Too covetous of drink, Apollo, hast thou stol'n away A poet's drop of ink? Upborne into the viewless air It floats a vapour now, Impell'd through regions dense and rare, By all the winds that blow. Ordain'd perhaps ere summer flies, To form an Iris in the skies, Though black and foul before. Illustrious drop! and happy then Phoebus, if such be thy design, To place it in thy bow, Give wit, that what is left With equal grace below. may shine |