I clambered up a lofty rock, And did not find it steep; I read through a page and a half of Locke And did not fall asleep. I said whate'er I may but feel, I paid whate'er I owe; And I danced one day an Irish reel And I was more than six feet high, And beautiful black eyes; My horses like the lightning went, My barrels carried true; And I held my tongue at an argument, And winning cards at Loo.. I saw an old Italian priest, Who spoke without disguise; And I dined with a Judge, who swore, like Best, All libels should be lies. I bought for a penny a two-penny loaf Of wheat, and nothing more; I danced with a female philosopher There was a crop of wheat which grew There was a noble lord who knew What he was never taught. There was a scheme in the gazette For a lottery without blanks; And a Parliament had lately met, Without a single Bankes. And there were Kings who never went To cuffs for half a crown; And Lawyers who were eloquent And Statesmen who forebore to praise And Boroughs were bought without a test, Of Liberty and soap; And the Chancellor, feeling very sick, Had just resigned the seals; And a clever little Catholic Was hearing Scotch appeals. There was no fraud in the penal code, No shame in Wellesly Pole. They showed me a figurante, whose name Had never known disgrace; And a gentleman of spotless fame, With Mr. Bochsa's face. It was an idle dream-but thou, Beloved 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: Oh bitterness! the morning broke, And thou wert married when I woke, And toil and trouble, noise and steam, And if I thought the dead could dream, PALINODIA. Not mine this lesson-but experience's which it taught me. THERE was a time when I could feel All passion's hopes and fears, And though I'm hardly twenty-four, I'm not a lover now ! Lady, the mist is on my sight, The chill is on my brow; My day is night, my bloom is blight, I never talk about the clouds, I never wander forth alone Upon the mountain's brow; I weighed last winter sixteen stone- I never wish to raise a veil, I cannot kneel as once I did, I've quite forgot my bow, I never do as I am bid I'm not a lover now. I make strange blunders every day, Take smiles for wrinkles, black for gray, I fly from folly, though it flows I don't object to length of nose- The Muse's steed is very fleet— I'd rather hunt a hare; I've learned to utter yours and Instead of thine and thou; And, oh! I can't endure a blue! I'm not a lover now! you, |