LINES PLACED OVER A CHIMNEY-PIECE. SURLY Winter, come not here; Bluster in thy proper sphere: Howl along the naked plain, There exert thy joyless reign; Triumph o'er the withered flower, The leafless shrub, the ruined bower; But our cottage come not near; Other springs inhabit here, Other sunshine decks our board, Than the niggard skies afford. Love and Fancy scorn thy sway; Love and Joy, and friendly Mirth, Shall bless this roof, these walls, this hearth; The rigour of the year controul, And thaw the winter in the soul. WRITTEN ON A MARBLE. THE world's something bigger, But just of this figure And speckled with mountains and seas; Your heroes are overgrown schoolboys Who scuffle for empires and toys, And kick the poor ball as they please. Now Cæsar, now Pompey, gives law; And Pharsalia's plain, Though heaped with the slain, Was only a game at taw. A SCHOOL ECLOGUE. EDWARD. HIST, William! hist! what means that air so gay? Thy looks, thy dress, bespeak some holiday : Thy hat is brushed; thy hands, with wondrous pains, WILLIAM. John, faithful John, is with the horses come; Mamma prevails, and I am sent for home. * Sed tamen, ille Deus qui sit, da Tityre nobis. HARRY. Thrice happy whom such welcome tidings greet*! Thrice happy who reviews his native seat! For him the matron spreads her candied hoard, And early strawberries crown the smiling board; Custards and sillabubs his taste invite; Sports fill the day, and feasts prolong the night. Yet, ah! what different tasks thy comrades wait! Some in the grammar's thorny maze to toil, Some o'er barbaric climes in maps to roam, Far from their mother-tongue, and dear loved home‡. * Fortunate senex, hic inter flumina nota. + Non equidem invideo, miror magis. ↑ At nos hinc alii sitientes ibimus Afros, Pars Scythiam, et rapidum Cretæ veniemus Oaxem. Harsh names, of uncouth sound, their memories load, And oft their shoulders feel the' unpleasant goad. EDWARD. Doubt not our turn will come some future time. Now, William, hear us twain contend in rime; For yet thy horses have not eat their hay, And unconsumed as yet the' allotted hour of play. WILLIAM. Then spout alternate, I consent to hear*, Let no false rime offend my critic ear;- I guess your pockets are not lined with gold! HARRY. A ship these hands have built, in every part Carved, rigged, and painted, with the nicest art; * Alternis dicetis. |