Behold the mighty moon! this way The stars have tasks-but these have none! BEGGARS. SHE had a tall man's height, or more; What other dress she had I could not know; In all my walks, through field or town, Fit person was she for a queen, To head those ancient Amazonian files: Or ruling bandit's wife, among the Grecian isles. Before me begging did she stand, Such woes I knew could never be; And yet a boon I gave her; for the creature Was beautiful to see; 66 a weed of glorious feature!" I left her, and pursued my way; Chasing a crimson butterfly; The taller followed with his hat in hand, Wreathed round with yellow flowers, the gayest of the land. The other wore a rimless crown, With leaves of laurel stuck about: And they both followed up and down, Each whooping with a merry shout: Two brothers seemed they, eight and ten years old; And like that woman's face as gold is like to gold. They bolted on me thus, and lo! Each ready with a plaintive whine; Your mother has had alms of mine." "That cannot be," one answered, "She is dead." "Nay but I gave her pence, and she will buy you bread." "She has been dead, Sir, many aday." "Come, come!" cried one; and, without more ado, STAR-GAZERS. WHAT Crowd is this? what have we here? we must not pass it by; A telescope upon its frame, and pointed to the sky: Long is it as a barber's pole, or mast of little boat, Some little pleasure-skiff, that doth on Thames's waters float. The showman chooses well his place, 'tis Leicester's busy square; And he's as happy in his night, for the heavens are blue and fair; Calm, though impatient, is the crowd; each is ready with the fee, And envies him that's looking-what an insight must it be! Yet, showman, where can lie the cause? Shall thy implement have blame, A boaster, that, when he is tried, fails, and is put to shame? Their eyes, or minds? or, finally, is this resplendent vault? Is nothing of that radiant pomp so good as we have here? Or is it rather that conceit rapacious is and strong, Or must we be constrained to think that these spectators rude, Have souls which never yet have risen, and therefore prostrate lie ? No, no, this cannot be-men thirst for power and majesty! Does, then, a deep and earnest thought the blissful mind employ Whatever be the cause, 'tis sure that they who pry and pore |