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Each hopes that one may be his lot. And, therefore, smiles on his proposal.
Now from the soporific scene
To view, unheeded and unseen,
There, in apartments small and damp,
Sits poring by the midnight lamp;
He surely well deserves to gain them,
Who, striving hardly to obtain them,
Who sacrifices hours of rest,
Or agitates his anxious breast,
Who reads false quantities in Seale,1
Depriv'd of many a wholesome meal;
Renouncing every pleasing page,
Preferring to the letter'd sage,
1 Scale's publication on Greek Metres disrbjff considerable talent and ingenuity, but, as ■aaffct be expected in so difficult a work, is not mrartable lor accuracy. [An Analysis of the Griet Uetrts; lor the use oj Students at the I'nkvsity of Cambridge. By John Barlow Seale (1764). Svo.l
'The Latin of the schools is of the canine 'pmu. and not very intelligible.
1 The discovery of Pythagoras, that the square of the hypothenuse is equal to the squares of the other two sides of a right-angled triangle.
Still, harmless are these occupations, That hurt none but the hapless student,
Compar'd with other recreations, Which bring together the imprudent;
Whose daring revels shock the sight,
When Drunkenness and dice invite,
Not so the methodistic crew,
In humble attitude they sue,
Forgetting that their pride of spirit,
Detracts most largely from the merit
'Tis morn: — from these I turn my sight:
What scene is this which meets the
A numerous crowd array'd in white,1
Loud rings in air the chapel bell;
'Tis hush'd: — what sounds are these
The organ's soft celestial swell
To this is join'd the sacred song,
The royal minstrel's hallow'd strain;
Though he who hears the music long,
• On a saint's day the students wear surplices in chapel.
Our choir would scarcely lie excus'd
All mercy, now, must be refus'd
If David, when his toils were ended, Had heard these blockheads sing before him,
To us his psalms had ne'er descended,— In furious mood he would have tore
The luckless Israelites, when taken
Were ask'd to sing, by jov forsaken,
Oh! had they sung in notes like these,
Inspir'd by stratagem or fear, They might have set their hearts at ease,
The devil a soul had stay'd to hear. 24.
But if I scribble longer now,
The deuce a soul will stay to read; My pen is blunt, my ink is low; Tis almost time to stop, indeed.
Therefore, farewell, old Granta's spires!
No more, like Cleofas, I fly; No more thy theme my Muse inspires: The reader's tir'd, and so am I.
October 28, 1806. [First printed, December, 1S06.]
TO THE SIGHING STRErHON.
Your pardon, my friend,
If my rhymes did offend, Your pardon, a thousand times o'er;
From friendship I strove,
Your pangs to remove, But, I swear, I will do so no more.
Since your beautiful maid,
No more I your folly regret;
Of this quickly reformed coquette.
Yet still, I must own,
I should never have known, From your iwrscs, what else she deserv'd;
Your pain seem'd so great,
I pitied your fate,
Since the balm-breathing kiss
Of this magical Miss, Can such wonderful transports product-:
Since the "world you forget,
Wlun your lips once have met," My counsel will get but abuse.
You say, "When I rove,"
'Tis true, I am given to range;
Yet there's pleasure, at least, in a change
I will not advance,
By the rules of romance, To humour a whimsical fair;
Though a smile may delight,
Yet a frown will affright,
While my blood is thus warm,
I ne'er shall reform,
Of this I am sure,
Was my Passion so pure, Thy Mistress would think me & fool.
And if I should shun,
These might the boldest Sylph appall, When gleaming with meridian blaze;
Thy beauty must enrapture all;
But who can dare thine ardent gaze?
'Tis said that Berenice's hair,
In stars adorns the vault of heaven;
But they would ne'er permit thee there, Thou would'st so far outshine the seven.
For did those eyes as planets roll,
Thy sister-lights would scarce appear: E'en suns, which systems now controul, Would twinkle dimly through their sphere.1
Friday, November 7, 1806.
LINES ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG
[as The Author Was Discharging His Pistols In A Garden, Two Ladies Passing Near The Spot Were Alarmed By The Sound Of A Bullet Hissing Near Them, To One Of Whom The Following Stanzas Were Addressed The Next Morning.] 2
Doubtless, sweet girl! the hissing lead,
And hurtling' o'er thy lovely head,
'"Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
— Shakespeare. 1 [The lady to whom the lines were addressed, is also eommemorated in the verses "To a Vain Lady" and "To Anne." She was the daughter of the Rev. Henry Houson of Southwell, and married the Rev. Luke Jackson. She died on Christmas Day. i8ai, and her monument may be seen in Hucknnll Torkard Church.]
s This word is used by Gny in his poem to the Fatal Sisters: —
"Imn-sleet of arrowy shower
Surely some envious Demon's force, Vex'd to behold such beauty here,
ImpelPd the bullet's viewless course, Diverted from its first career.
Yes! in that nearly fatal hour,
The ball obey'd some hell-born guide; But Heaven, with interposing power,
In pity turn'd the death aside.
Yet, as perchance one trembling tear
Which /, th' unconscious cause of fear,
Say, what dire penance can atone
Arraign'd before thy beauty's throne,
Might I perform the Judge's part,
It only would restore a heart,
Which but belong'd to thee before.
The least atonement I can make
Henceforth, I breathe but for thy sake
But thou, perhaps, may'St now reject Such expiation of my guilt;
Come then — some other mode elect; Let it be death — or what thou wilt
Choose, then, relentless! and I swear Nought shall thy dread decree pre vent;
Yet hold — one little word forbear! Let it be ought but banishment. [First printed, December, 1806.]
Equal to Jove that youth must be —
To him, alike, are always known,
Parch'd to the throat my tongue adheres,
My pulse beats quick, my breath heaves short,
My limbs deny their slight support,
[First printed, December, 1806.]
TRANSLATION OF THE EPITAPH ON VIRGIL AND TIBULLUS.
BY DOMITTUS MARSUS.
He who, sublime, in epic numbers roll'd, And he who struck the softer lyre of Love,
By Death's unequal1 hand alike controul'd,
Fit comrades in Elysian regions move! [First printed, December, 1806.]
1 The hand 0/ Death is said to be unjust or unenuij. as Virgil was considerably older than Titjolhis at his decease.
IMITATION OF TIBULLUS.
SULPICIA AD CERINTHUM LIB. QUART.
Cruel Cerinthus! does the fell disease Which racks my breast your fickle bosom please?
Alas! I wish'd but to o'ercomc the pain,
LUGETE VENERES CUPIDINESQUE
Ye cupids, droop each little head,
Whom dearer than her eyes she lov'd:
But lightly o'er her bosom mov'd:
And softly fluttering here and there,
Tun'd to her ear his grateful strain.
Who sighs, alas! but sighs in vain.
Oh! curst be thou, devouring grave! Whose jaws eternal victims crave, From whom no earthly power can save,
For thou hast ta'en the bird away: From thee my Lesbia's eyes o'erflow, Her swollen cheeks with weeping glow; Thou art the cause of all her woe,
Receptacle of life's decay.
[First printed, December, 1806.]
IMITATED FROM CATULLUS.
On! might I kiss those eyes of fire,