No answer ;- Well,' cried Love, 'I'll wait, 1842. THE TOUR OF LOVE AND TIME. LONG since, as tradition unravels, Love, weary of Venus's eyes, With Time started off on his travels, To make the grand tour of the skies; But, though they departed together, To keep side by side was in vain ; Love basked in the fine sunny weather, While Time was seen trudging through rain. Love, calling and panting, long after Came up with him, ready to drop; Though round him there grew in his march 'Come skip me a twelvemonth, old fellow, And call it a leap-year, you know! Look round us-blue, red, green, and yellowI must have some sport as we go. Why travel while noon burns above there? Just stop while I aim at yon dove there,— Now swift as the thought that comes o'er him, Love snatched Time's scythe as he mows; He crops not one blossom before him, But cuts all the thorns from the rose. Still Time plodded on up the mountain, Ne'er raising his eyes from the dust; While Love stays to drink at a fountain, And drops the scythe in it—to rust. But Time, in due course, nothing reaping, And filled it with juice from the grape. Time now, o'er the hills and the levels, Guessed minutes by mere grains of sand, Till, when the thief dropped 'mid his revels, The glass was restored to his hand. Then Love to the Fairies flew frantic, Possessed with a project sublime; Brought scissors, and, desperate antic! Cut off the white beard of old Time. Day and Night saw the woeful disaster,- In turn all disclaimed their old father, Because 'twas a general strike. Jove, now, looking down on these gambols, And so put an end to Love's rambles, 'Your tour, crazy Love, has its dangers, NEW YEAR'S ODE. TO THE WINNER OF THE ST. NISBETT-SEASON 1844. Trumpet-tongued against The deep damnation of her taking-off.'-Macbeth. Robbing the stage was, in those days, a practice common enough.' Roderick Random. GIVE back-give us back the wild freshness of morning,' Bound fast, yet again let the Favourite run! |