216 FROM SISTER DOLLY IN CASCADIA,
I talk not of friendship and sisterly love,
No sorrows of mine can your sympathy move;
I know that my griefs not a pang can impart
To a nature so cold, and so stony a heart;
To your reason I plead, for (I hope no offence)
Such frights as yourself should have very good sense.
Believe me, your airs will derision provoke,
To respect you's a duty, to love you's a joke;
In vain you give out with an insolent swagger,
That you are an heiress, and I am a beggar.
What little I have is from bankruptcy* free,
Your wealth, like a merchant's, depends on the sea;
My lands, as I've heard from surveyors of taste,
Are improv'd by the storm by which your's are laid
In vain, against me, winds and winter combine,
What ruins your prospects, embellishes mine!
As to persons, you know that the difference is clear,
For to tell you the truth, you're a monster, my dear ;
And still you would tempt the lov'd youth from my
arms,
barebone attractions and skeleton charms! For me, I'm not vain, but the world has declar'd
That no beauty on earth can with mine be compar'd.
Alluding to the great embankment at Tanny-ralt-issa, now called Tre-Madock.
You scarce can look bearable, dizen'd and deck'd;
I please in disorder, and charm in neglect ;
Whilst from art you receive the few gifts you possess,
My toilette is nature's enchanting undress;
And when, sister Tan, in your train shall we meet
All the gods and the elves that attend in my suite?
Can such fair vision-shapes on your bog-turf be seen,
As glide in my forests and sport on my green?
Your genius is humpy, decrepid, and hagged,
Your Naiads are muddy, your Oreads are ragged;
Mature are the wood-nymphs who people my lawn,
And high wave their arms to the breeze of the dawn;
Whilst you to a nursery drag us, to see
Some poor baby Dryads as high as my knee!
In the place of Dianas, and Fairies, and Peris,
You shew us (oh fie!) that old work woman, Ceres !
Whilst, proud to my rock-fretted realms to belong,
The torrent-king thunders my vallies along;
Your godling aquatic just makes a deposit
Sufficient to water a mill or a closet.
But who is this man with a visage so deathly?
'Tis-I must end, to hear news from Dollgethly ;
So I hope you're not vex'd with my candour, dear Tan,
But send back my William as fast as you can;
And prithee give up this extravagant folly,
For Tanny can ne'er be the rival of Dolly!
Oн leave, dear Moore, oh leave awhile
green hills of your native isle !
But come not with your seraph lyre,
Your Muse of joy, your soul of fire ;
Not e'en your strains could charm away
The fiends which on my senses prey;
Fiends, not with burning sulphur nurs'd,
But from Hell's chillest winter burst;
Fiends, who their icy jav'lins dart,
At once to pierce and freeze the heart!
The storms which shook my summer days
Slept to the music of your lays;
The snow-blast of this wintry sky
Hears not the Halcyon's lullaby.
Come, then, with mightier succours fraught,
Your shield of philosophic thought,
Best panoply when care invades,
To lighten my unchequer'd shades
Bring me each day-diffusing gem,
Which beams in Reason's diadem,
For sov'reign Reason lends to you
Her armour and regalia too.
The triflers think your varied powers
Made only for life's gala bowers,
To smooth Reflection's mentor-frown,
Or pillow joy on softer down.-
Fools!-yon blest orb not only glows
To chase the cloud, or paint the rose ;
These are the pastimes of his might;
Earth's torpid bosom drinks his light-
Find there his wondrous pow'r's true measure,
Death turn'd to life, and dross to treasure!
(IMITATION DU VIEUX FRANÇOIS.)
Ан sy! moins funeste est l'effet
De cette moult cuisante absence,
Quand la doulceur de ton regret
Vient enmieller son amarance!
Moindre distance entre nos cœurs
Me semble un abysme sans rives,
Mais doulx envoys, tendres missives,
Bien savent le combler de fleurs!
Rien n'espère qui ne craint pas;
Playzirs tant froids amour déprise ;
Car son heur suprême icy bas,
C'est quand l'Espoir se réalise.
Si l'absence, cruel fléau,
A plus que le trépas nous livre,
Se revoir, c'est plus que revivre,
C'est le ciel, après le tombeau!
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