THE WINTER NOSEGAY.

I.

WHAT nature, alas! has denied

To the delicate growth of our ifle,

Art has in a measure fupplied,

And winter is deck'd with a fmile.

See, Mary, what beauties I bring

From the shelter of that funny fhed,

Where the flow'rs have the charms of the spring, Though abroad they are frozen and dead.

II.

Tis a bow'r of Arcadian fweets,

Where Flora is ftill in her prime,

A fortrefs, to which fhe retreats

From the cruel affaults of the clime. While earth wears a mantle of fnow, These pinks are as fresh and as gay

As the faireft and sweetest that blow

On the beautiful bofom of May.

III.

See how they have fafely furviv'd

The frowns of a sky so severe;

Such Mary's true love, that has liv'd
Through many a turbulent year.

The charms of the late blowing rofe
Seem grac'd with a livelier hue,

And the winter of forrow best shows
The truth of a friend fuch as you.

MUTUAL FORBEARANCE

NECESSARY TO THE HAPPINESS OF THE MARRIED STATË.

THE lady thus addrefs'd her fpoufe

What a mere dungeon is this house!

By no means large enough; and, was it,
Yet this dull room, and that dark closet-
Those hangings, with their worn-out graces,
Long beards, long nofes, and pale faces—

Are fuch an antiquated scene,

They overwhelm me with the spleen!
Sir Humphry, fhooting in the dark,
Makes anfwer quite befide the mark:
No doubt, my dear, I bade him come,
Engag'd myself to be at home,

And shall expect him at the door
Precisely when the clock ftrikes four.

You are fo deaf, the lady cried,

(And rais'd her voice, and frown'd befide)

You are fo fadly deaf, my dear,

What fhall I do to make you hear?
Difmifs poor Harry! he replies;
Some people are more nice than wife-
For one flight trespass all this ftir?
What if he did ride whip and fpur,
'Twas but a mile-your fav'rite horse
Will never look one hair the worse.
Well, I protest 'tis past all bearing-
Child! I am rather hard of hearing-

Yes, truly-one must scream and bawl

I tell you, you can't hear at all!

Then, with a voice exceeding low,

No matter if you hear or no.

Alas! and is domestic strife,

That foreft ill of human life,
A plague fo little to be fear'd,
As to be wantonly incurr'd,
To gratify a fretful paffion,
· On ev'ry trivial provocation?
The kindeft and the happiest pair
Will find occafion to forbear;

And something, ev'ry day they live,
To pity, and, perhaps, forgive.

But if infirmities that fall

In common to the lot of all—

A blemish or a sense impair'd-
Are crimes fo little to be fpar'd,
Then farewell all that must create

The comfort of the wedded state;

Instead of harmony, 'tis jar

And tumult, and inteftine war.

The love that cheers life's latest stage,

Proof against sickness and old age,

Preferv'd by virtue from declenfion,

Becomes not weary of attention;

But lives, when that exterior grace
Which first infpir'd the flame decays.
'Tis gentle, delicate, and kind,
To faults compaffionate or blind,
And will with sympathy endure
Thofe evils it would gladly cure:
But angry, coarse, and harsh expreffion
Shows love to be a mere profeffion;
Proves that the heart is none of his,
Or foon expels him if it is.