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The songster heard this short oration,
Hence jarring sectaries may learn
Those Christians best deserve the name, Who studiously make peace their aim; Peace, both the duty and the prize Of him that creeps and him that flies.
To joys forbidden man aspires,
Our dear delights are often such,
ON A GOLDFINCH,
STARVED TO DEATH IN HIS CAGE.
HORACE. BOOK II. ODE X.
TIME was when I was free as air,
My drink the morning dew;
My strains for ever new.
And of a transient date;
Soon passed the wiry grate.
And cure of every ill ;
Had been your prisoner still.
RECEIVE, dear friend, the truths I teach, So shalt thou live beyond the reach
Of adverse Fortune's power; Not always tempt the distant deep, Nor always timorously creep
Along the treacherous shore.
He that holds fast the golden mean,
The little and the great,
Imbittering all his state.
THE PINE-APPLE AND BEE.
The pine-apples, in triple row,
Methinks, I said, in thee I find
The tallest pines feel most the power
Comes heaviest to the ground;
And spread the ruin round. The well-informed philosopher Rejoices with a wholesome fear,
And hopes, in spite of pain;
And Nature laughs again.
Expect a brighter sky.
And lays his arrows by.
If hindrances obstruct thy way,
Sed fines ultra solitos discordia tendit,
Cum flores ipsos bilis et ira movent.
Hortus ubi dulces præbet tacitosque recessus,
Se rapit in partes gens animosa duas;
Hic sibi regalis Amaryllis candida cultus,
Illic purpureo vindicat ore Rosa.
Ira Rosam et meritis quæsita superbia tangunt,
Multaque ferventi vix cohibenda sinu,
Dum sibi fautorum ciet undique nomina vatum,
Jusque suum, multo carmine fulta, probat.
Altior emicat illa, et celso vertice nutat,
Ceu flores inter non habitura parem,
Fastiditque alios, et nata videtur in usus
Imperii, sceptrum, Flora quod ipsa gerat.
Nec Dea non sensit civilis murmura rixæ,
Cui curæ est pictas pandere ruris opes,
Deliciasque suas nunquam non prompta tueri,
Dum licet et locus est, ut tucatur, adest.
Et tibi, principibus qui solet esse, color;
Et tibi reginæ nomen, et esto tibi.
His ubi sedatus furor est, petit utraque nympham,
Qualem inter Veneres Anglia sola parit;
Hancpenes imperium est, nihil optant amplius,
Regnant in nitidis, et sine lite, genis.
THE POPLAR FIELD.
The poplars are felled, farewell to the shade,
And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade; The sceptre of her power.
The winds play no longer and sing in the leaves,
Nor Ouse on his bosom their image receives.
Twelve years have elapsed, since I last took a
Of my favourite field, and the bank where they
And now in the grass behold they are laid,
And the tree is my seat, that once lent me a
The blackbird has fled to another retreat,
Where the hazels allord him a screen from the
heat, The seat of empire is her cheeks,
And the scene where his melody charmed me beThey reign united there.
Resounds with his sweet-flowing ditty no more. IDEM LATINE REDDITUM.
My fugitive years are all hasting away,
And I must ere long lie as lowly as they,
With a turf on my breast, and a stone at my head,
Ere another such grove shall arise in its stead,
'Tis a sight to engage me,
if any thing can, Lené sonat liquidumque meis Euphelia chordis,
Cum dixit mea lux, Heus, cane, sume lyram,
Namque lyram juxta positam cum carmine vidit,
Suave quidem carmen dulcisonamque lyram.
Fila lyræ vocemque paro suspiria surgunt,
Et miscent numeris murmura mesta meis,
Dumque tuæ memora laudes, Euphelia formæ,
Tota anima interia pendet ab ore Chloes,
Subrubet illa pudore, et contrahit altera frontem,
Me torquet mea mens conscia, psallo, tremo;
Heu! fallendi artem quam didicere parum.
HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN.
safe home again. Tam subito periisse videns tam digna manere,
John Gilpin was a citizen Agnosco humanas sortes et tristia fata
Of credit and renown, Sit licit ipse brevis, volucrique simillimus umbræ,
A train-band captain eke was he
Of famous London town
Though wedded we have been
These twice ten tedious years, yet we
No holiday have seen.
Tomorrow is our wedding day,
And we will then repair Delicias, procul arte, formidine novi.
Unto the Bell at Edmonton Quàm vellem ignotus, quod mens mea semper
All in a chaise and pair. avebat, Ante larem proprium placidam expectare senec
My sister, and my sister's child, tam,
Myself, and children three, Tum demùm, exactis non infeliciter annis,
Will fill the chaise; so you must ride
On horseback after we.
Of womankind but one,
And you are she, my dearest dear,
Therefore it shall be done. Mercator, vigiles oculos ut fallere possit,
I am a linen-draper bold,
As all the world doth know,
Will lend his horse to go.
Quoth Mrs. Gilpin, That's well said ;
And for that wine is dear,
We will be furnished with our own,
Which is both bright and clear.
Full slowly pacing o'er the stones,
With caution and good heed.
But finding soon a smoother road
Beneath his well-shod feet, The snorting beast began to trot,
Which galled him in his seat.
John Gilpin kissed his loving wife;
O'erjoyed was he to find,
She had a frugal mind.
But yet was not allowed
Should say that she was proud.
Where they did all get in;
To dash through thick and thin.
Were ever folks so glad,
As if Cheapside were mad.
So, fair and softly, John he cried,
But John he cried in vain;
In spite of curb or rein.
Who can not sit upright,
And eke with all his might.
His horse, who never in that sort
Had handled been before, What thing upon his back had got,
Did wonder more and more.
Away went Gilpin, neck or nought,
Away went hat and wig;
Of running such a rig.
Like streamers long and gay, Till loop and button failing both,
At last it flew away.
The bottles he had slung;
As hath been said or sung.
The dogs did bark, the children screamed,
Up flew the windows all;
As loud as he could bawl.
Good lack! quoth he-yet bring it me,
My leathern belt likewise,
When I do exercise.
Had two stone bottles found,
And keep it safe and sound.
Through which the belt he drew,
To make his balance true.
Away went Gilpin—who but he?
His fame soon spread around, He carries weight! he rides a race!
'Tis for a thousand pound! And still, as fast as he drew near,
'Twas wonderful to view, How in a trice the turnpike men
Their gates wide open threw.
And now, as he went bowing down
His reeking head full low, The bottles twain behind his back
Where shattered at a blow.
Down ran the wine into the road,
Most piteous to be seen, Which made his horse's flanks to smoke
As they had basted been.
But still he seemed to carry weight,
With leathern girdle braced; For all might see the bottles' necks
Still dangling at his waist. Thus all through merry Islington
These gambols he did play, Until he came into the Wash
Of Edmonton so gay; And there he threw the wash about .
On both sides of the way,
Or a wild goose at play.
From the balcony spied
To see how he did ride.
Whence straight he came with hat and wig;
A wig that flowed behind,
Each comely in its kind.
That showed his ready wit,
They therefore needs must fit.
That hangs upon your face;
Be in a hungry case.
And all the world would stare,
And I should dine at Ware.
Stop, stop, Jołın Gilpin!-Here's the house
They all aloud did cry;
Said Gilpin-So am I!
Inclined to tarry there;
Full ten miles off, at Ware.
arrow swift he flew,
The middle of my song.
And sore against his will,
His horse at last stood still,
The calenıler, amazed to see
His neighbour in such trim, Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate,
And thus accosted him:
So turning to his horse he said,
I am in haste to dine; 'Twas for your pleasure you came here,
You shall go back for mine. Ah luckless speech, and bootless boast !
For which he paid full dear; For, while he spoke, a braying ass
Did sing most loud and clear; Whereat his horse did snort, as he
llad heard a lion roar, And galloped off with all his might,
As he had donc before. Away went Gilpin, and away
Went Gilpin's hat and wig : He lost them sooner than at first,
For why?—they were too big. Now mistress Gilpin, when she saw
Her hushand posting down Into the country far away,
She pulled out half a crown; And thus unto the youth she said,
That drove them to the Bell,
My husband safe and well.
John coming back amain;
By catching at his rein;
And gladly would have done,
And made him faster run.
Went postboy at his heels,
The lumbering of the wheels,
What news? what news? your tidings tell;
Tell me you must and shallSay why bareheaded you are come,
Or why you come at all ? Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit,
And loved a timely joke;
In merry guise he spoke:
And, if I well forebode,
They are upon the road,
His friend in merry pin, Returned him not a single word,
But to the house went in;