ON THE DEPARTURE OF AN OLD HOUSEKEEPER.
'Tis past; and since she is for ever fled,
With all her by-gone blunders on her head,
Let not the laugh, the sneer, pursue her still,
Nor mark her failings, where she meant no ill.
Cease now her foibles, Ridicule, to tell;
Let Gratitude declare-she loved us well.
Can we forget, now when for aye we part,
Her charity, the goodness of her heart,
Her wish to please, her readiness to lend
(Although unasked) assistance to a friend?
Can we forget all these? and yet retain
The few-the puny errors of her brain ?
You who are blind to what her heart could do,
Be just at least, dismiss her failings too:
Grant-while an inmate, her mistakes could tease,
Her look amuse us, or her faults displease,—
Yet now-her fancies and her follies past-
Her failings vanish, while her love will last.
244 ON THE DEPARTURE OF AN OLD HOUSEKEEPER.
Still, when she calls to mind her happiest days,
She'll load her former friends with well meant praise;
Still will regret that, forced at length to roam,
She leaves the spot she called so long her home.
Let us our ridicule, our mocking, end;
Quit the companion, yet retain the friend:
Forgive her faults, for there no malice low'rs;
Forget those faults, for she was blind to ours.
IMITATION OF METASTASIO'S "PARTENZA.'
SISTER, far from thee I'm gone;
And often, silent and alone,
Sudden starts a willing tear.
Which would not fall if thou wert here;
But thou, my Susan, who can tell
If thy least thought on me shall dwell?
How quick our meeting days have passed!
But human pleasures will not last;
And Learning's all-consuming power
Hastened on our parting hour.
But thou, my Susan, who can tell
If thy least thought on me shall dwell?
But quickly still from day to day
Flies the hasty time away;
Fraught with hope and sportive glee,
I'll soon revisit home and thee;
Whilst thou, my Susan, who can tell
If thy least thought on me shall dwell?
But stay, I wrong thee, gentle dove,
I know I wrong thy tender love ;
Oft thine eye will shed a tear,
Which would not fall if I were near;
Yes, yes, my Susan, I can tell,
Oft thy thoughts on me will dwell.
WHEN weeping friends are parting,
Oh then their hearts are smarting!
But when they're just returning,
Oh then their hearts are burning!
They're merry all,
The tear they shed at parting.
TELL me, little darling Dove,
Whence and whither dost thou rove?
I am in haste; a brother tied
This doggrel greeting to my side ;
May every good my Sister bless,-
Life, virtue, health, and happiness;
Not vulgar mirth, but modest sense;
Not mines of gold, but competence;
With these her bark may peaceful glide,
Uninjured, down life's swelling tide.
May soft Content's all-healing power
Stand ready for each suffering hour,
Enhance the good the Fates bestow,
And mitigate the pangs of woe.
Each year may an adoring crew
New Valentines around her strew;
Be every page, be every line,
As ardent, as sincere, as mine!
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