Part 136 (1/2)

Ah, Colin! old Time is full of delay, Nor will budge one foot faster for all thou canst say.

10 Will no pitying power, that hears me complain, Or cure my disquiet, or soften my pain?

To be cured, thou must, Colin, thy pa.s.sion remove; But what swain is so silly to live without love!

No, deity, bid the dear nymph to return, For ne'er was poor shepherd so sadly forlorn.

Ah! what shall I do? I shall die with despair; Take heed, all ye swains, how ye part with your fair.

ODE TO A TOBACCO-PIPE.

Little tube of mighty power, Charmer of an idle hour, Object of my warm desire, Lip of wax and eye of fire; And thy snowy taper waist, With my finger gently braced; And thy pretty swelling crest, With my little stopper pressed; And the sweetest bliss of blisses, Breathing from thy balmy kisses.

Happy thrice, and thrice again, Happiest he of happy men; Who when again the night returns, When again the taper burns, When again the cricket's gay, (Little cricket full of play,) Can afford his tube to feed With the fragrant Indian weed: Pleasure for a nose divine, Incense of the G.o.d of wine.

Happy thrice, and thrice again, Happiest he of happy men.

AWAY! LET NOUGHT TO LOVE DISPLEASING.

1 Away! let nought to love displeasing, My Winifreda, move your care; Let nought delay the heavenly blessing, Nor squeamish pride, nor gloomy fear.

2 What though no grants of royal donors, With pompous t.i.tles grace our blood; We'll s.h.i.+ne in more substantial honours, And, to be n.o.ble, we'll be good.

3 Our name while virtue thus we tender, Will sweetly sound where'er 'tis spoke; And all the great ones, they shall wonder How they respect such little folk.

4 What though, from fortune's lavish bounty, No mighty treasures we possess; We'll find, within our pittance, plenty, And be content without excess.

5 Still shall each kind returning season Sufficient for our wishes give; For we will live a life of reason, And that's the only life to live.

6 Through youth and age, in love excelling, We'll hand in hand together tread; Sweet-smiling peace shall crown our dwelling, And babes, sweet-smiling babes, our bed.

7 How should I love the pretty creatures, While round my knees they fondly clung!

To see them look their mother's features, To hear them lisp their mother's tongue!