And when well stor'd with Papa's knowledge,

Might be the wonder of a College.

Though Madam harbour'd in her breast A wish, by female hope imprest,
That, as the choicest boon of Heaven, A female cherub would be given
Which, when she dandled in her arms,
Might smile in all her Mother's charms :
But they contriv'd their wish to smother
And keep the secret from each other.

Thus Syntax with parental pride

The curtain'd cradle fondly eyed,

And oft, with a foreboding joy,

Would think he saw the slumb'ring boy;
Nay sometimes thought, in fancy's ear,
The Nurse's lullabies were near.

The ale was brew'd, the heifer's life Waited the ready butcher's knife;
The one to crown the joyous bowl,
While all the anxious village pour
But be it told to Nature's shame

The other to be roasted whole; Their wish for the prolific hour. The look'd-for period never came.

The allotted season now was pass'd,
The doubting Midwife stood aghast,
While Galen, 'mid a string of pauses
On Nature's whims and final causes;
Declaim'd with solemn look and air ;-
Then calraly ventur'd to declare
With cautious whispering o'er and o'er,
He ne'er was so deceived before.

Th' unlook'd for tidings Syntax heard,
His face now red, now pale appear'd,

While the grave Doctor left the room, Fearful of his impending doom;

For Syntax, with those horrid graces,
Which rage will write on mortal faces,
Now wildly stamping round the floor,
Had kick'd the cradle through the door.

-Just as his darling hope miscarried, A couple waited to be married.

I will not heighten my distress
To-day, he cried, I will annoy

By such a scene of happiness;
Each source of matrimonial joy,

The bridal folk shall share my sorrow,
Nor will I wed them till to-morrow!
The Bridegroom bow'd in humble suit,
The Bride just whisper'd—“ What a Brute !”
While the Clerk, trembling, pale and sad,
Fear'd that his Rev'rence was gone mad :

At least, he was not in a state
Such holy rite to celebrate,
And they must see another Sun Before the wish'd-for work was done.
AMEN declared, "I have a wife Who ne'er gave peace to married life;
Yet oft I've thought the nuptial boon Might come, alas, a day too soon;
And though you now so sad depart,
With downcast look and aching heart,

That Love has yielded to delay

Its bands for one impatient day,

May the wish never come, Oh never!
That they had been delay'd for ever!"

Thus while the disappointed folk Stole off to meet the gen'ral joke,

O'er evening tea or milking-pail,

And furnish out a village tale,
Sage Galen by mild reas'ning strove, And learned argument to prove,
That he had err'd where all might err, As Nature oft, he could aver,

Would symptomatic pranks betray,
Would swerve from ev'ry common way,
And into such stange whimsies stray,

That Esculapius, he believ'd,

Were he on earth would be deceiv'd:
Where she had so perplex'd his knowledge,
It might have puzzled all the College.

I beg, he said, the learn'd Divine, Will think it not a fault of mine,
Nor tell the mishap to my shame, That he bears not a father's name:
With patience, and another year, A bouncing bantling may appear.
Syntax the obstetric Doctor eyed, And thus, with scornful look, replied:
"You talk of Nature, let us learn

From those who could her ways discern,

Could from her deep concealments call her,
Nor let your boasted skill enthral her;

I tell you, Sir, the learned Bacon, Has truly said, or I'm mistaken,
That the Physician tribe await, With doubting art the sick man's fate,
While the sick man his lot endures, Till Physic kills, or Nature cures;
—The first great principle of Nature Is to produce a Human Creature;
Nor never will my mind believe, In this great work she would deceive.
Creation tells it, look around, And say, what is there to be found,
What in the world's stupendous plan,

That is not clearly made for man?
The beasts which in the forest rove,
The birds that haunt the shady grove,

That love the stream, that trace the field
Or the green-woods and thickets yield;

Nor these alone, the finny brood That swim the sea, or cleave the flood;
The yielding grain, the flower that blows,

What in Earth's pregnant bosom grows;

The Planets, in the Vault of Heaven, Are for man's use divinely given: A being he, of beauteous mould, Which Angels may with joy behold; Endued with various powers combin'd

That tell the wonders of his mind;

A life arrang'd by Heav'n's decree,

His end an Immortality.

To such a task, to such great ends On which the living world depends, Nature proceeds by certain rules Which may be seen by all but fools.

She may indeed, howe'er intent,
Or, if by ignorance pursued,
But never, Sir, shall I believe
And I refer this sad ado,

Fail by untoward accident; May not be rightly understood It is her purpose to deceive; Not to Dame Nature, but to you.

I think it true what GALEN says, Though 'tis not in the Doctors' praise, That Art is long, and knows to seize With eager grasp the daily fees. While Life is short, and well it may,

When Life doth at your guess-work lay."

He spoke, then to the Doctor threw, Th' expected fee, nor said adieu. Again he sought the patient's bed With tender look and gentle tread : "No more," he whisper'd to the Nurse

"Will I pursue the Doctor's course;

The Booby Quack I have dismiss'd
The phials now shall disembogue
I'll leave the dear angelic creature,

With his last guinea in his fist : The liquids of the stupid rogue : As Bacon doth advise, to Nature,

With those kind aids she does impart,
And have no dark recourse to art:

Of sago she shall frequent sip, Warm jelly now shall wet her lip,
And kitchen physic shall restore Her health to what it was before."
His Rev'rence told them to prepare

For the appointed hour of prayer.

The cushion on the floor was spread, The book was plac'd upon the bed :
Calm and compos'd the patient lay As if she were inclined to pray;
To Health's first fount he did impart
The breathings of his anxious heart ;

But she, who never fail'd to join
Ne'er made responses as he pray'd,
He made his off'ring to the skies,

In all these offices divine,
Nor said Amen to what he said.
But she, alas ! ne'er op'd her eyes.

Thus, as sleep seem'd to overtake her,
He gave his caution not to wake her ;
When the Nurse, hanging o'er the bed,
Shriek'd out, “My Mistress, Sir, is dead!

Alas, alas, I fear to say,

She ne'er will wake till Judgment-Day." -As if by some dire stroke subdued, For a short time aghast he stood: Then, with a look that spoke despair,

He gaz'd on Death's pale victim there :

He kiss'd her lips no longer warm; He view'd her 'reft of ev'ry charm; Her heart, alas, no longer beat; Cold was the source of vital heat; Death was triumphant,-Life was o'er,

And his dear Dolly was no more.

-His agonizing bosom burns

He raves, and stamps, and prays by turns:

Grief made him wild, but not a tear Did on his pallid cheeks appear.
Into the chair his form he threw, "Adieu," he said, "my Love adieu !"
The tears then came-the gushing flood

Stream'd down his cheeks and did him good :
They calm'd at least his furious mood.

There are, who eager to dispense What they possess of eloquence,
When sorrow comes contrive to flout it

By letting loose their speech about it,

And for a time, at least, dispel it

If they are but allow'd to tell it.

SYNTAX was of this sect profest,— To talk, was what he lov'd the best,

And he would think that any blessing

Was in itself scarce worth possessing,

If it but chanc'd his tongue to tye

Nor thought he that a real ill,

And check his native fluency:

Which did not make his tongue lay still ;—

Nay, would almost sharp pain approve,

So it allow'd his tongue to move :

In talking now he sought relief, And thus he talk'd to ease his grief :—

66

Alas, how are my hopes beguil'd!

This morn I look'd to have a child;