« PreviousContinue »
There was a crop of wheat, which grew
Where plough was never brought;
What he was never taught:
For a lottery with no blanks;
Without a single Bankes.
And there were kings who never went
To cuffs for half-a-crown;
Without a wig and gown;
Their greyhounds and their guns;
And did not dread the duns.
And boroughs were bought without a test,
And no man feared the Pope ;
Of liberty and soap;
Had just resigned the seals;
Was hearing Scotch appeals.
I went one day to a Court of Law
Where a fee had been refused; And a Public School I really saw
Where the rod was never used;
And the sugar s:ill was very sweet,
Though all the slaves were free; And all the folk in Downing street
Had learned the rule of three.
There love had never a fear or doubt;
December breathed like June:
Of temper—or of tune;
Potatoes ate like pine ;
Nothing grew old but wine.
The worshipped one, wert there, With thy dark clear eyes and beaming brow,
White neck and floating hair ; And oh, I had an honest heart,
And a house of Portland stone; And thou wert dear, as still thou art,
And more than dear, my own!
Ob, bitterness !—the morning broke
Alike for boor and bard;
And all the rest was marred:
Came back with the coming ray;
I'd hang myself to-day! (1827.)
- "Go together, You precious winners all.”— Winter's Tale.
Fair Lady, ere you put to sea,
You and your mate together, I meant to hail you lovingly,
And wish you pleasant weather.
But vain was all my labor ;
And not about my neighbor.
Safe from the perils of the war,
Nor killed, nor hurt, nor missingSince many things in common are
Between campaigns and kissingUngrazed by glance, unbound by ring,
Love's carte and tierce I've parried, While half my friends are marrying,
And half-good lack !-are married.
'Tis strange—but I have passed alive
Where darts and deaths were plenty, Until I find my twenty-five
As lonely as my twenty :
And many lips have sadly sighed
Which were not made for sighing, And many hearts have darkly diedWhich never dreamed of dying.
Some victims fluttered like a fly,
Some languished like a lily ; Some told their tale in poetry,
And some in Piccadilly: Some yielded to a Spanish hat,
Some to a Turkish sandal; Hosts suffered from an entrechat,
And one or two from Handel.
Good Sterling said no dame should come
To be the queen of his bourn, But one who only prized her home,
Her spinning-wheel, and Gisborne : And Mrs. Sterling says odd things
With most sublime effront’ry ; Gives lectures on elliptic springs,
And follows hounds 'cross country.
Sir Roger had a Britonss pride
In freedom, plough, and furrow ;No fortune hath Sir Roger's bride,
Except a rotten borough : Gustavus longed for truth and crumbs,
Contentment and a cottage ;His Laura brings a pair of plums
To boil the poor man's p'tiage.
My rural coz, who loves his peace,
And swore at scientifics,
Who construes hieroglyphics :
Whose than he hated Holborn,
Who does the verse for Colburn.
And Vyvyan, Humor's crazy child,
Worse worship, whim, or passion, Was still for something strange and wild,
Wit, wickedness, or fashion,Is happy with a little Love,
A parson's pretty daughter, As tender as a turtle-dove,
As dull as milk and water.
And Gerard hath his Northern Fay
His nymph of mirth and haggis; And Courtenay wins a damsel gay
Who figures at Colnaghi's; And Davenant now has drawn a prize,–
I hope and trust, a Venus, Because there are some sympathies
As well as leagues_between us.
Thus north and south, and cast and west,
The chimes of Hymen dingle; But I shall wander on, unblest,
And singularly single ;