YON rich domain once own'd Benignus lord,
Long by all earthly changes unassail'd ;
But fell injustice seiz'd his frugal hoard,
His cattle perished, and his harvests failed.
Forlorn and poor, yet still of steady mind,
To foreign climes he bent his cheerless way;
One tender babe alone, he left behind,
That in the nurse's arms yet lisping lay.
Homeward, at last, with feeble steps he came,
Full many a year had worn his furrow'd face;
A beggar's garb bely'd his nobler frame,
For through that garb appear'd a rev'rend grace.
And now a stately mansion met his
Thither he turned to seek a nightly bed,
Where he might heave, unknown, the secret sigh, Where he might haply rest his aching head.
His claim was heard the gates were open'd wide,
For Charity herself dwelt porter there;
Nor did she help with ostentatious pride,
But on each gift bestow'd a friendly tear.
The master came to soothe his sorrowing guest,
And pledged with sweet humility the bowl;
But, oh! what throbbing wonder fill'd his breast,
When all his father rush'd upon his soul.
Amazed he marked each feature o'er and o'er,
Nor could pale age each manly beauty hide,
"And do I hold thee (sobb'd he out,) once more,
My son! my son!" the happy hermit cry'd.
Omnia me tua delectant; sed maximè, maxima cum fides in amicitiâ, consilium, gravitas, constantia, tum lepos, humanitas, literæ. CICERO. Lib. xi. Ep. 27.
THOUGH some of your old Greekish fellows
Demurely in dry annals tell us,
That squire Amphion with a ditty,
Sans doute, uprear'd the Theban city;
To capering pebbles gave no quarter,
And rigadoon'd the lime and mortar;
Another, having still'd the motion
Of that confounded scold, the ocean,
On dolphin's back, rode fairly over
Far as from Calais' point to Dover ;
'Bout saddle, certes, he was idle,
But the tail serv'd him for a bridle;
Then, having got with bumbo merry,
Discharg'd with a droll catch his ferry;
Nay, Orpheus, (keep us all from evil!)
Thus arm'd, went headlong to the devil,
And made the damn'd souls, to his fiddle
Frisk, like a hen on a hot griddle;
Guess, too, the errand for your life?-
Why, truly, to redeem-his wife!
Few mates, I wot, would so have blunder'd
In this blest year of eighteen hundred.
Heav'n help the poor rogues that are witty, Those times are past ;-the more's the pity! No baker now, say all you can say, Will tick on couplet, verse, or stanza; For Alexandrine smooth, or triplet, No butcher trust a goose's giblet; Nor landlord, (cur e the tasteless throng,) Be paid his quit-rent-with a song. Poets, alas! no more have pow'r To build, with tuneful jigs, a tow'r, Save, when sublim'd by slender fare, They conjure castles in the air; Or, partly feeding like wild asses Snuff the keen breezes of Parnassus; Round the steep hill, like mad curvetting, Quite careless of that thing called-eating; * "Fat feast that with the dogs doth diet," Would never let such blades be quiet.
Lean fast that with the Gods doth diet. Milton.
For magic lines, still current found,
Of sterling weight, and silver sound,
That any wight, with ease may scan,
Sweet Abr'am New land is your man;
For, damme, I'll maintain it still,
There's music in a good bank-bill;
And though to rhyme not much confin'd,
Music of the most moving kind:
Whoever deems this idle fuss,
By Jove," is dark as Erebus ;"
No fear his pence with mould be rusted,
So, hosts! "let no such man be trusted!"
And yet, dear part'ner of the pen !
Though blockheads jeer us, nine in ten,
We to our trade devoutly clinging,
Still grace the art,-of ballad-singing;
We, when the melting mind's in tune,
True, frolic children of the moon,
Each ev'ning, from our upper windows,
Take a celestial jaunt to Pindus ;
There romp, and dance, and snatch soft kisses, Charm'd with the nine melodious misses;
And then recline the raptur'd head,
With each a muse to deck his bed.
We from our own prolific brain,
Like spiders, spin the lengthen'd strain ;
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