Which only hide the woe beneath.
I lose no portion of my woes,
Although my tears in secret flow;
More green and fresh the verdure grows,
Where the cold streams run hid below.
A MODEST ODE TO FORTUNE.
"_Et genus et formam regina pecunia donat_." HOR.
O Goddess Fortune, hear my prayer,
And make a bard for once thy care!
I do not ask, in houses splendid,
To be by liveried slaves attended;
I ask not for estates, nor land,
Nor host of vassals at command;
I ask not for a handsome wife--
Though I dislike a single life;
I ask not friends, nor fame, nor power,
Nor courtly rank, nor leisure's hour;
I ask not books, nor wine, nor plate.
Nor yet acquaintance with the great;
Nor dance, nor sons, nor mirth, nor jest,
Nor treasures of the East or West;
I ask not beauty, wit, nor ease,
Nor qualities more blest than these--
Learning nor genius, skill nor art,
Nor valour for the hero's part;
These, though I much desire to have,
I do not, dearest goddess, crave.--
I modestly for MONEY call--
For _money_ will procure them _all_!
ANACREONTIC.
Come fill the bowl!--one summer's day,
Some hearts, that had been wreck'd and sever'd,
Again to tempt the liquid way,
And join their former mates endeavour'd;
But then arose this serious question.
Which best to kindred hearts would guide?
Water, was Prudence' pure suggestion,
But that they thought too cool a tide!
Peace bade them try the milky way,
But they were fearful 'twould becalm them;
Cried Love, on dews of morning stray,--
They deem'd 'twould from their purpose charm them.
Pages:
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35