DOROTHY. Not less I dream her mute desire To acred churl and booby squire, Now pale, with timorous eyes that filled At "twice-told tales" of foxes killed; Now trembling when slow tongues grew free 'Twixt sport, and Port-and Dorothy! 'Twas then she'd seek this nook, and find Its evening landscape balmy-kind; And here, where still her gentle name Next, with a pause,-she bent the while Over a rose, with roguish smile "But how disgusted, sir, you'll be To hear I scrawled that 'Dorothy.'" O harmless tenant of the flood! I do not wish to spill thy blood, Perchance hath given a tender wife, And children dear, to charm thy life, As she hath done for me. THE CONTRAST. Enjoy thy stream, O harmless fish; And when an angler for his dish, Through gluttony's vile sin, Attempts, a wretch, to pull thee out, God give thee strength, O gentle trout, To pull the raskall in! JOHN WOLCOT. THE CONTRAST. N London I never know what I'd be at, IN Enraptured with this, and enchanted with that, I'm wild with the sweets of variety's plan, And Life seems a blessing too happy for man. But the country, Lord help me! sets all matters right, So calm and composing from morning to night; Oh! it settles the spirits when nothing is seen But an ass on a common, a goose on a green. |