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But I digress, and, lo! an infant train Appear, and call me to my task again.
THE PEDANTIO GARDENER AND HIS BABE. - ROMANTIC AND
LEARNED NAMES OF BABES AND FLOWERS.
• Why Lonicera wilt thou name thy child ?'
High-sounding words our worthy gardener gets,
But though no weed exists, his garden round,
What plumy people sing in every grove !
The straightest furrow lists the ploughman's heart,
DARWIN AND PETER PRATT. - LOVES OF THE PLAXTS.
SCIENCE AND PHILOSOPHY.
NAMING OF A PARISH INFANT. - LITTLE RICHARD MONDAY
Not Darwin's self had more delight to sing Of floral courtship, in the awakened Spring,
To name an infant met our village sires, Than Peter Pratt, who simpering loves to tell
Assembled all, as such event requires ; How rise the stamens as the pistils swell ;
Frequent and full the rural sages sate, How bend and curl their moist top to the spouse,
And speakers many urged the long debate. And give and take the vegetable vows ;
Some hardened knaves, who roved the country round, How those esteemed of old but tips and chives
Had left a babe within the parish bound. Are tender husbands and obedient wives ;
First, of the fact they questioned. "Was it true?' Who live and love within the sacred bower, — The child was brought. What then remained to do?' That bridal bed the vulgar term a flower.
Was't dead or living?' This was fairly proved ; Hear Peter proudly, to some humble friend, 'T was pinched, it roared, and every doubt removed. A wondrous secret in his science lend.
Then by what name the unwelcome guest to call • Would you advance the nuptial hour, and bring Was long a question, and it posed them all ; The fruit of Autumn with the flowers of Spring ;
For he who lent a name to babe unknown, View that light frame where cucumis lies spread, Censorious men might take it for his own. And trace the husbands in their golden bed,
They looked about, they asked the name of all, Three turgid anthers ; – then no more delay, And not one Richard answered to the call ; But haste and bear them to their spouse away ; Next they inquired the day when, passing by, In a like bed you 'll see that spouse reclined, - The unlucky peasant heard the stranger's cry. 0! haste and bear them, they like love are blind, - This known, how food and raiment they might give, Then by thyself, from prying glance secure,
Was next debated for the rogue would live. Twirl the full tip and make the marriage sure ; At last, with all their words and work content, A long-abiding race the deed shall pay,
Back to their homes the prudent vestry went, Nor one unblest abortion pino away.'
And Richard Monday's to the work-house sent. To admire their friend's discourse our swains agree, EDUCATION OF A PARISH FOUNDLING; HIS ABJECT CONDIAnd call it science, and philosophy.
TION, AND TEMPER; HE ELOPES.
There was he pinched and pitied, thumped and fed, HOW TO STUDY BOTANY, NATURAL HISTORY, ETC. ; NAMES. And duly took his beatings and his bread ;
'T is good, 't is pleasant, through the advancing Patient in all control, in all abuse, To see unnumbered, growing forms appear ; [year, He found contempt and kicking have their use : What leafy-like from earth's broad bosom rise !
Sad, silent, supple ; bending to the blow, What insect myriads seek the summer skies ! A slave of slaves, the lowest of the low ; What scaly tribes in every streamlet move !
His pliant soul gave way to all things base,
They ask the price of each unrivalled steed,
He knew no shame, he dreaded no disgrace ;
favor, when in fame he fell ;
Now Richard's talents for the world were fit ; He'd no small cunning, and had some small wit ; Had that calm look that seemed to all assent, And that complacent speech that nothing meant ; He'd but one care, and that he strove to hide, How best for Richard Monday to provide. Steel through opposing plates the magnet draws, And steely atoms culls from dust and straws; And thus our hero, to his interest true, Gold through all bars and from each trifle drew; But still more sure about the world to go, This Fortune's child had neither friend nor foe.
Long lost to us, at last our man we trace, -
BARNABY, THE FARMER'S BUTT.
Last in my List, five untaught lads appear ; Their father dead, Compassion sent them here : For still that rustic infidel denied To have their names with solemn rite applied : His, a lone house, by Dead-man's Dyke-way stood; And his, a nightly haunt in Lonely-wood. Each village inn has heard the ruffian boast That he believed “in neither God nor ghost; That when the sod upon the sinner pressed, He, like the saint, had everlasting rest ; That never priest believed his doctrines true, But would, for profit, own himself a Jew, Or worship wood and stone, as honest heathen do ; That fools alone on future worlds rely, And all who die for faith deserve to die.'
These maxims part the attorney's clerk professed, His own transcendant genius found the rest. Our pious matrons heard, and much amazed Gazed on the man, and trembled as they gazed ; And now his face explored, and now his feet, Man's dreaded Foe, in this bad man, to meet : But him our drunkards as their champion raised, Their bishop called, and as their hero praised ; Though most, when sober, and the rest, when sick, Had little question whence his bishopric. But he, triumphant spirit ! all things dared, He poached the wood and on the warren snared ; 'T was his at cards each novice to trepan, And call the wants of rogues the rights of man ; Wild as the winds he let his offspring rove, And deemed the marriage bond the bane of love.
What age and sickness for a man so bold Had done, we know not; - none beheld him old : By night, as business urged, he sought the wood, The ditch was deep, the rain had caused a flood; The foot-bridge failed, he plunged beneath the deep, And slept, if truth were his, the eternal sleep. [sail,
These have we named ; on life's rough sea they With many a prosperous, many an adverse gale ; Where passions soon, like powerful winds, will rage, While wearied Prudence with their strength engage; Then each, in aid, shall some companion ask For help or comfort in the tedious task ; And what that help, what joys from union flow, What good or ill, we next prepare to show ; And row, meantime, our weary bark ashore, As Spencer his, but not with Spencer's oar.
Rural Odes for August.
LLOYD'S “ COUNTRY BOX.”
The wealthy cit, grown old in trade, Now wishes for the rural shade, And buckles to his one-horse chair Old Dobbin or the foundered mare ; While, wedged in closely by his side, Sits Madam, his unwieldy bride, With Jacky on a stool before 'em, And out they jog in due decorum. Scarce past the turnpike half a mile, How all the country seems to smile ! And as they slowly jog together, The cit commends the road and weather, While Madam dotes upon the trees, And longs for every house she sees ; Admires its views, its situation, And thus she opens her oration :
• What signify the loads of wealth, Without that richest jewel, health Excuse the fondness of a wife, Who dotes upon your precious life ! Such ceaseless toil, such constant care, Is more than human strength can bear ! One may observe it in your face Indeed, my dear, you break apace : And nothing can your health repair, But exercise and country air ; Sir Traffic has a house, you know, About a mile from Cheney-Row; He's a good man, indeed 't is true, But not so “warm," my dear, as you : And folks are always apt to sneer — One would not be out-done, my dear!'
Sir Traffic's name, so well applied, Awaked his brother-merchant's pride, And Thrifty, who had all his life Paid utmost deference to his wife, Confessed her argument had reason, And by th' approaching summer season Draws a few hundreds from the stocks, And purchases his country-box. Some three or four miles out of town (An hour's ride will bring you down), He fixes on his choice abode, Not half a furlong from the road : And so convenient does it lay, The stages pass it every day : And then so snug, so mighty pretty, To have a house so near the city ! Take but your places at the Boar, You're set down at the very door.
Well, then, suppose them fixed at last,
"Well, to be sure it must be owned,
Blest age ! when all men may procure
Now, bricklayers, carpenters, and joiners,
With many a bell, and tawdry rag on,
The villa thus completely graced,
When waves the golden plain with ripened ears,
How does it glad his raptured heart,
How untainted his delight,
Mirthfully to waste the night.
Meets her spouse with open arms;
Every hour is full of charms.
ROGERS'S “ITALIAN COT."
DEAR is my little native vale,
The ring-dove builds and murmurs there ; Close by my cot she tells her tale
To every passing villager;
CHEETHAM'S “HAPPY MEAN.”
In orange groves and myrtle bowers,
That breathe a galo of fragrance round, I charm the fairy-footed hours
With my loved lute's romantic sound ; Or crowns of living laurel weave For those that win the race at eve.
The shepherd's horn at break of day,
The ballet danced in twilight glade, The canzonet and roundelay
Sung in the silent greenwood shade ; These simple joys, that never fail, Shall bind me to my native vale.
Happy the man, from busy cares withdrawn,
Who seeks the sweets of rural ease,
Where every spot has power to please, The rugged mountain and the verdant lawn.
He shuns the deathful din of war,
The dreadful trumpet's bray ;
He hears without dismay.
And blackening clouds appear,
And Neptune's fury fear.
Disturb his humbler views,
His labor he pursues.
Tinges the east with gilded ray,
Serenely ushers in the day,
Calls him from his humble bed ;
And, bleating, stray along the distant mead.
COLERIDGE'S “ DOMESTIC PEACE.”
Tell me on what holy ground May Domestic Peace be found Halcyon daughter of the skies ! Far, on fearful wings, she flies, From the pomp of sceptred state, From the rebells noisy hate. In a cottaged vale she dwells, Listening to the Sabbath bells ! Still around her steps are seen Spotless Honor's meeker mien ; Love, the sire of pleasing fears ; Sorrow, smiling through her tears ; And, conscious of the past employ, Memory, bosom spring of joy.
But when the beauteous Autumn rears,
With various fruitage crowned, her head,
Clare's "Broken Heart;"
OR, THE SORROWS OF LOVE.
MOTHER AND HER DACGHTERS. SALLY
BIBLE. - THE BROKEN-HEARTED ;
GREY. - THE FAMILY
To sober with sad truths the laughing mirth
How time,' she said, “and pleasure vanish by !'
'T is hard enough when Innocence is hurled On the cold bosom of a heartless world ; When Mockery and stony-hearted Pride Reveal the failings Pity strives to hide, And with sad, cruel taunt and bitter jest Lay thorns to pillow Trouble's broken rest; But when a poor young thing like Sally dies For love, and only love -- where are the eyes Can look in Memory's face without a tear? Ev'n Scorn no longer turns aside to sneer, But silent stands ; while Pity shakes her head, And thinks tears just herself declines to shed. VICTIM OF A MALE COQUET; SALLY'S PARENTAGE ; HER BEAU;
HIS WOOLNG AND ACCEPTANCE. - COURTSHIP.
Poor girl! I felt in trouble for her end —
And Sally's beau would buy his flowers the while
IS TREATED AS BROTHER, LOVER, AND SON.
No holiday ere came but he was there :
TEASING, TRIFLING; THEIR CRUEL EFFECTS.