SONG LXXI.* BY MR. BICKERSTAFF. WHAT are outward forms and shows, Has the nobler portion shar'd. Oft we see the homely flower SONG LXXII. TO-MORROW: OR, THE PROSPECT OF HOPE. BY COLLINS. In the downhill of life, when I find I'm declining, May my lot no less fortunate be, Than a snug elbow-chair can afford for reclining, And a cot that o'erlooks the wide sea; With an ambling pad-poney to pace o'er the lawn, While I carol away idle sorrow, And blithe as the lark that each day hails the dawn, Look forward with hope for to-morrow. * In the comic opera of the Maid of the Mill.” With a porch at my door, both for shelter and shade too, As the sun-shine or rain may prevail; And a small spot of ground for the use of the spade too, With a barn for the use of the flail. A cow for my dairy, a dog for my game, And a purse when a friend wants to borrow; I'll envy no nabob his riches or fame, Nor what honours await him to-morrow. From the bleak northern blast may my cot be completely And at night may repose steal upon me more sweetly, And while peace and plenty I find at my board, With a heart free from sickness and sorrow, And when I, at last, must throw off this frail covering, Nor my And with smiles count each wrinkle and furrow, * [This song is here inserted from vol. i. of Mr. Plumptre's col. lection: but the author I apprehend was not the Collins of high poetical celebrity, nor can I offer any biographical report of him. It is possible, however, he may have been the person who some years ago formed a motley entertainment of music and recitation, entitled 'Collins's Evening Brush.'] SONG LXXIII. THE BRITISH FISHERMAN. (Imitated from Horace, lib. iii. od. 29.) BY DR. WATTS. * LET Spain's proud traders, when the mast Or the rich dust Peru prepares My little skiff, that skims the shores, To waft my boat and me to land, * [Several of this Christian poet's songs for children, have been most happily set to music by Mr. T. F. Walmisley, and published.] SONG LXXIV. A COTTAGE AND CONTENT. BY THE REV. JAMES PLUMPTRE. WITH any so happy, in this happy nation, I would not change place, if to change I were free; Whate'er be their talents, of what occupation, If poor, or if rich, high or low their degree. Though slender my fortune, of rank I'm not speaking, I have that which a bounteous Heaven hath sent; For other, or better, I am not for seeking, I live in a cottage, I'm blest with content. What though I have cares, which, my mind oft oppressing, Have pain'd me, at times, since the day of my birth; Yet, to lighten my sorrow, I've many a blessing, And the man without care doth not live on this earth. Are others more learned? e'en knowledge brings sorrow, My talents are such as kind Heaven hath sent ; My wisdom's sufficient this lesson to borrowA cottage is ample, enjoy'd with content. At peace with all round me, I've many acquaintance, One friend I enjoy, and perhaps I've but one; But those who are blest with a greater abundance, More needing a friend, ah! perhaps, may have none. My wife was no beauty, nor yet was an heiress, For better for worse, I receiv'd her as sent ; Though homely her person, to me she's the fairest, And the dower that she brought to our cot was content. Our children are many, all sizes and ages, Ten in number, like steps round our table they rise, They are healthy and good, and my fond mind presages If learning they miss, they at least may be wise. Of all that I've seen, for none other I'd change them, So well am I pleas'd with my blessings thus sent, No joys of the world from our love can estrange them, For the lesson they learn in our cot is content. life To see them all settled and blest, if permitted, 'Tis surely my wish, Heaven grant me my Yet my eldest by age and by temper is fitted ; To father my babes, and to husband my wife. SONG LXXV. MELODY. BY HENRY KIRKE WHITE. YES, once more that dying strain, While the Virtues thus inweave Mildly soft the thrilling song; Glides unfelt, unseen, along. |