Part 131 (2/2)

6 Beauty has such resistless power, That even the chaste Egyptian dame Sighed for the blooming Hebrew boy: For her how fatal was the hour, When to the banks of Nilus came A youth so lovely and so coy!

7 But, ah! sweet maid, my counsel hear, (Youth should attend when those advise Whom long experience renders sage): While music charms the ravished ear, While sparkling cups delight our eyes, Be gay; and scorn the frowns of age.

8 What cruel answer have I heard?

And yet, by Heaven, I love thee still: Can aught be cruel from thy lip?

Yet say, how fell that bitter word From lips which streams of sweetness fill, Which nought but drops of honey sip?

9 Go boldly forth, my simple lay, Whose accents flow with artless ease, Like orient pearls at random strung: Thy notes are sweet, the damsels say; But, oh! far sweeter, if they please The nymph for whom these notes are sung.

SAMUEL BISHOP.

This gentleman was born in 1731, and died in 1795. He was an English clergyman, master of Merchant Tailors' School, London, and author of a volume of Latin pieces, ent.i.tled 'Feriae Poeticae,' and of various other poetical pieces. We give some verses to his wife, from which it appears that he remained an ardent lover long after having become a husband.

TO MRS BISHOP,

WITH A PRESENT OF A KNIFE.

'A knife,' dear girl, 'cuts love,' they say!

Mere modish love, perhaps it may-- For any tool, of any kind, Can separate--what was never joined.

The knife, that cuts our love in two, Will have much tougher work to do; Must cut your softness, truth, and spirit, Down to the vulgar size of merit; To level yours, with modern taste, Must cut a world of sense to waste; And from your single beauty's store, Clip what would dizen out a score.

That self-same blade from me must sever Sensation, judgment, sight, for ever: All memory of endearments past, All hope of comforts long to last; All that makes fourteen years with you, A summer, and a short one too; All that affection feels and fears, When hours without you seem like years.

Till that be done, and I'd as soon Believe this knife will chip the moon, Accept my present, undeterred, And leave their proverbs to the herd.

If in a kiss--delicious treat!-- Your lips acknowledge the receipt, Love, fond of such substantial fare, And proud to play the glutton there, 'All thoughts of cutting will disdain, Save only--'cut and come again.'

TO THE SAME,

ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF HER WEDDING-DAY, WHICH WAS ALSO HER BIRTH-DAY, WITH A RING.

'Thee, Mary, with this ring I wed'-- So, fourteen years ago, I said.---- Behold another ring!--'For what?'

'To wed thee o'er again?'--Why not?

With that first ring I married youth, Grace, beauty, innocence, and truth; Taste long admired, sense long revered, And all my Molly then appeared.

If she, by merit since disclosed, Prove twice the woman I supposed, I plead that double merit now, To justify a double vow.

Here then to-day, with faith as sure, With ardour as intense, as pure, As when, amidst the rites divine, I took thy troth, and plighted mine, To thee, sweet girl, my second ring A token and a pledge I bring: With this I wed, till death us part, Thy riper virtues to my heart; Those virtues which, before untried, The wife has added to the bride: Those virtues, whose progressive claim, Endearing wedlock's very name, My soul enjoys, my song approves, For conscience' sake, as well as love's.

And why? They show me every hour, Honour's high thought, Affection's power, Discretion's deed, sound Judgment's sentence, And teach me all things--but repentance.

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