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Parted without the least regret,
Except that they had ever met,
And learn'd in future to be wiser
Than to neglect a good adviser.

MORAL.
Misses ! the tale that I relate

This lesson seems to carry-
Chuse not alone a proper mate,

But proper time to marry.

THE DOG AND THE WATER-LILY.

NO FABLE.
The noon was shady, and soft airs

Swept Ouse's silent tide,
When, 'scaped from literary cares,

I wander'd on his side.
My spaniel, prettiest of his race,

And high in pedigree, (Two nymphs' adorn'd with every grace

That spaniel found for me,)
Now wanton'd lost in tags and reeds,

Now starting into sight,
Pursued the swallow o'er the meads

With scarce a slower flight.
It was the time when Ouse display'd

His lilies newly blown;
Their beauties I intent survey'd,
And one I wished my own.

Sir Robert Gunning's daughters.

With cane extended far I sought

To steer it close to land;
But still the prize, though nearly caught,

Escaped my eager hand..

Beau mark'd my unsuccessful pains

With fix'd considerate face,
And puzzling set his puppy brains

To comprehend the case.

But with a cherup clear and strong,

Dispersing all his dream,
I thence withdrew, and follow'd long

The windings of the stream.

My ramble ended, I return’d;

Beau, trotting far before,
The floating wreath again discern'd,

And plunging left the shore.
I saw him with that lily cropp'd

Impatient swim to meet
My quick approach, and soon he dropp'd

The treasure at my feet.
Charm'd with the sight, The world, I cried,

Shall hear of this thy deed : My dog shall mortify the pride

Of man's superior breed;
But chief myself I will enjoin,

Awake at duty's call,
To show a love as prompt as thine

To Him who gives me all.

TO THE IMMORTAL MEMORY OF THE HALIBUT,

ON WHICH I DINED THIS DAY, MONDAY, APRIL 26, 1784. Where hast thou floated, in what seas pursued Thy pastime? When wast thou an egg new spawn’d, Lost in the immensity of ocean's waste ? Roar as they might, the overbearing winds . That rock'd the deep, thy cradle, thou wast safeAnd in thy minikin and embryo state, Attach'd to the firm leaf of some salt weed, Didst outlive tempests, such as wrung and rack'd The joints of many a stout and gallant bark, And whelm’d them in the unexplored abyss. Indebted to no magnet and no chart, Nor under guidance of the polar fire, Thou wasi a voyager on many coasts, Grazing at large in meadows submarine, Where flat Batavia just emerging peeps Above the brine,—where Caledonia's rocks Beat back the surge,-and where Hibernia shoots Her wondrous causeway far into the main. - Wherever thou hast fed, thou little thought'st, And I not more, that I should feed on thee. Peace, therefore, and good health, and much good fish, To him who sent thee! and success, as oft As it descends into the billowy gulf, To the same drag that caught thee !-Fare thee well! Thy lot thy brethren of the slimy fin Would envy, could they know that thou wast doomd To feed a bard, and to be praised in verse.

GRATITUDE.

ADDRESSED TO LADY HESKETH.

1786.

This cap, that so stately appears,

With ribbon-bound tassel on high, Which seems by the crest that it rears

Ambitious of brushing the sky; This cap to my Cousin I owe,

She gave it, and gave me beside, Wreath'd into an elegant bow,

The ribbon with which it is tied.

This wheel-footed studying chair, · Contrived both for toil and repose, Wide-elbow'd, and wadded with hair,

In which I both scribble and doze, Bright-studded to dazzle the eyes,

And rival in lustre of that
In which, or astronomy lies,

Fair Cassiopeïa sat:
These carpets, so soft to the foot,

Caledonia's traffic and pride,
O spare them, ye knights of the boot,

Escaped from a cross-country ride! This table and mirror within,

Secure from collision and dust, At which I oft shave cheek and chin,

And periwig nicely adjust :

This moveable structure of shelves,

For its beauty admired and its use, And charged with octavos and twelves,

The gayest I had to produce ; Where, flaming in scarlet and gold,

My poems enchanted I view, And hope, in due time, to behold

My Iliad and Odyssey too:

This china, that decks the alcove,

Which here people call a buffet, But what the gods call it above,

Has ne'er been reveald to us yet: These curtains, that keep the room warm

Or cool as the season demands, Those stoves that for pattern and form

Seem the labour of Mulciber's hands :

All these are not half that I owe

To One, from our earliest youth To me ever ready to show

Benignity, friendship, and truth ; For time, the destroyer declared

And foe of our perishing kind, If even her face he has spared,

Much less could he alter her mind.

Thus compass'd about with the goods

And chattels of leisure and ease, I indulge my poetical moods

In many such fancies as these ;

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