"Hey day! call you that a cabin? Did at once my vessel fill."— How you squeeze us! Would to God they did so still: Then I'd 'scape the heat and racket Of the good ship Lisbon Packet." Fletcher! Murray! Bob! where are you? Stretched along the decks like logsBear a hand, you jolly tar, you! Here's a rope's end for the dogs. Hobhouse muttering fearful curses, As the hatchway down he rolls, Now his breakfast, now his verses, Vomits forth-and damns our souls. "Here's a stanza On Braganza Help!"-"A couplet ?"—" No, a cup "What's the matter?" "Zounds! my liver's coming up; I shall not survive the racket Of this brutal Lisbon Packet." Now at length we 're off for Turkey, Breezes foul and tempests murky May unship us in a crack. But, since life at most a jest is, As philosophers allow, Still to laugh by far the best is, Then laugh on-as I do now. Great and small things, Sick or well, at sea or shore; Let's have laughing— Who the devil cares for more? Some good wine! and who would lack it, TO FANNY. THOMAS MOORE. NEVER mind how the pedagogue proses, Old Chloe, whose withering kisses Young Sappho, for want of employments, But for you to be buried in books— Astronomy finds in your eye Better light than she studies above, In Ethics-'tis you that can check, In a minute, their doubts and their quarrels, Oh! show but that mole on your neck, And 'twill soon put an end to their morals. Your Arithmetic only can trip When to kiss and to count you endeavor; But eloquence glows on your lip When you swear that you'll love me forever. Thus you see what a brilliant alliance And, oh!-if a fellow like me May confer a diploma of hearts, With my lip thus I seal your degree, My divine little Mistress of Arts! YOUNG JESSICA. YOUNG JESSICA sat all the day, In love-dreams languishingly pining, Her needle bright neglected lay, Like truant genius idly shining. Jessy, 'tis in idle hearts THOMAS MOORE That love and mischief are most nimble; A child who with a magnet play'd, And laughing, said, “We'll steal it slily." Was pleased to let the magnet wheedle, Till closer still the tempter drew, And off, at length, eloped the needle. Now, had this needle turn'd its eye To some gay reticule's construction, RINGS AND SEALS. THOMAS MOORE. "Go!" said the angry weeping maid, I took the ring-the seal I took, "And then the ring-my love! recall His arms around that neck hath twisted, While thus I murmur'd, trembling too 'Mid the moist azure of her eyes, Like day-light o'er a sea of blue, NETS AND CAGES. COME, listen to my story, while THOMAS MOORE Your needle's task you ply; At what I sing some maids will smile, While some, perhaps, may sigh. Though Love's the theme, and Wisdom blames Such florid songs as ours, Yet Truth, sometimes, like eastern dames, Can speak her thoughts by flowers. At what I sing there's some may smile, Young Cloe, bent on catching Loves, Much Cloe laugh'd at Susan's task; Come, listen, maids, etc. |