THE same the air, the same the scene,
The whispering trees, the varied green,
The fields still rich with golden store,
The copse and root-house as before;
The same the ivy, moss, and reeds,
The tangled paths, and waving weeds,
The thick shade closing up the view,
The curious sun still peeping through;
The same the hospitable shed,
The board as plentifully spread,
The drooping ash, th' aspiring oak;
The damsel's blush, the rustic's joke.
What, these the same,-dear Corde, say
Has chang'd them all since yesterday?
What want they now, less good or kind,
The crown of all?-A KINDRed Mind,
MARGARET PICKARD'S *
ENTERING HER SIXTH YEAR, JANUARY 1, 1802,
Of Birth-day lines to Girls and Boys,
Though, like themselves, so smooth and pretty,
I think them worse than children's toys,
Or than the Bellman's Christmas ditty.
* Daughter of Capt. Pickard, of the 36th Regiment.
Such fuss is made of forms and features,
Of Daddy's virtues, Mammy's graces,— They're just like pills to the sweet Creatures, Who take 'em, not without wry faces.
Yet when a thousand things combine
And mix, dear Margaret! as in you,
One should not wonder if the Nine
In an old theme found something new.
In you, sweet non-descript, each Muse,
Were there, instead of nine, a score,
Her darling attribute might choose
Till the Mythology was o'er:
For in that little head and mind,
And in those little lips and eyes,
A young Euphrosyne we find,
Minerva speaks, and Venus lies!
Your fun, your frolic, and sweet folly,
Roguish caprices and conceits,
Your moments of soft melancholy,
Frisks, bounds, and gay fantastic feats,
Are quite enough upon this day
To make Olympus tune its lyres,
And every year descend to play
Whatever Margaret inspires!
THE Poets are a gentle race,
And Nature form'd their souls for love; Yet Love and Nature have decreed,
The woes they pity they should prove.
The Rose, their favourite flower, they bring,
And paint it in the tints of morn,
The offering lay at Beauty's feet,
The incense hers, but theirs the thorn.
And many a mansion fair they raise—
Temples and towers that pierce the sky-
Make beds of state for Queens to rest,
While they on humble pallets lie!
A QUESTION, BY A FRIEND,
IN REPLY TO " THE FATE OF THE BARDS."
'Tis true that "Poets gentle are,"
Their souls by Nature "form'd for love;"
But, is it true that Fate decrees
"The woes they pity they must PROVE?"
And when the blushing" Rose" they bring,
Tinged with the softest hues of morn,
An offering fit for "Beauty's" shrine,
Say, does her smile not BLUNT the thorn?
Or, when the "Mansion fair" they rear-
With magic thought, raise lofty "Towers"-
The Royal Pillow deck with state,-
DOES IT NOT STREW THEIR OWN WITH FLOWERS?
MRS. POTTER,
ON CASTING THE AUTHOR'S NATIVITY.
You tell me that the Stars intend
To be henceforth the Poet's friend;
And that the Planets, stern before,
Resolve at length to frown no more;
That the High Powers who rule the birth
Of us poor dwellers upon earth,
Determine me a happier lot
Upon this sublunary spot,
Than hitherto they have inclin'd
To give my person or my mind.
Oh, if your Prophecy come true,
What will the Poct owe to you?
How shall he speak a grateful heart,
Or pay due tribute to your art?-
Art more than magic, which reveals
What Fate from Ignorance conceals.
Thus let it be-If demonstration
Shall crown this blissful calculation;
If Sickness shall to Health give way,
And Fortune lend a favʼring ray;
The Poet shall an offering give-
For You, as Prophet, shall receive
More than the Oracles of old,
More than Peruvia's splendid gold;.
For the first day of every year
pay you-GRATITUDE SINCERE!! That precious Jewel sent from Heav'n, That brighter Star than all the seven *
TO GEORGIANA BYRON,
ON HER BIRTH-DAY, FEB. 9, 1799.
VERSES on Birth-days have been sent,
In way of yearly compliment,
E'er since-in truth, so long ago
Their origin I do not know;
Most likely from the birth of Rhime,
Which follow'd fast the birth of Time:
They certainly were of a feather,
And, tho' not twins, were young together.
And, haply, as Time's pinions grew,
The first gay Bard a feather drew,
• Alluding to the Seven Stars.
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