« PreviousContinue »
HOPE AND LOVE.
ONE day, through fancy's telescope,
Which is my richest treasure,
Set out in search of Pleasure :
Each was the other's banker;
And Love, his sister's anchor.
They rambled on o'er vale and hill,
They passed by cot and tower; Through summer's glow and winter's chill,
Through sunshine and through shower : But what did those fond playmates care
For climate, or for weather ?
On which they gazed together.
Sometimes they turned aside to bless
Some Muse and her wild numbers,
“Fly on,” said Wisdom, with cold sneers;
“I teach my friends to doubt you;" “Come back,” said Age, with bitter tears,
“My heart is cold without you."
When Poverty beset their path,
And threatened to divide them,
Ere she had breath to chide them,
And all her bitters, honey,
And utter scorn of money.
They met stern Danger in their way,
Upon a ruin seated ;
And armies had retreated :
As Love and Hope came near him, That though he thundered long and loud,
They did not see or hear him.
A gray-beard joined them, Time by name;
And Love was nearly crazy,
And also very lazy:
Tied wings upon his jacket;
And far outsailed the packet.
And so, when they had safely passed
O'er many a land and billow,
Beneath a weeping willow :
Her softest light was flinging ;
Sad nightingales were singing.
“I leave you here," quoth Father Time,
As hoarse as any raven ; And love kneeled down to spell the rhyme
Upon the rude stone graven: But Hope looked onward, calmly brave;
And whispered, “Dearest brother, We're parted on this side the grave,
We'll meet upon the other."
LADY ARABELLA FUSTIAN TO LORD CLARENCE FUSTIAN.
Sweet, when Actors first appear,
Your labors, my talented brother,
Are happily over at last;
The bill is rejected,—or past:
As fast as your posters can crawl,
As usual, at Fustian Hall.
Arrangements are nearly completed;
But still we've a lover or two, Whom Lady Albina entreated,
We'd keep at all hazards for you: Sir Arthur makes horrible faces,
Lord John is a trifle too tall,And yours are the safest embraces
To faint in, at Fustian Hall.
Come, Clarence ;-it's really enchanting
To listen and look at the rout: We're all of us puffing, and panting,
And raving, and running about ; Here Kitty and Adelaide bustle;
There Andrew and Anthony bawl; Flutes murmur, chains rattle, robes rustle,
In chorus, at Fustian Hall.
By the bye, there are two or three matters,
We want you to bring us from town; The Inca's white plumes from the hatter's,
A nose and a hump for the Clown : We want a few harps for our banquet,
We want a few masks for our ball : And steal from your wise friend Rosanquet
His white wig, for Fustian Hall.
Huncamunca must have a huge saber,
Friar Tuck has forgotten his cowl; And we're quite at a stand-still with Weber,
For want of a lizard and owl:
Pray get us a love of a pall;
On feelings, at Fustian Hall ?
And, Clarence, you'll really delight us,
If you'll do your endeavor to bring From the Club a young person to write us
Our prologue, and that sort of thing;