By dint of change to give his tasteless task In all directions, he begins again : Oh comfortless existence! hemmed around With woes, which who that suffers would not kneel 55 And beg for exile or the pangs of death? That man should thus encroach on fellow-man, 60 65 Abridge him of his just and native rights, SET NOT THY FOOT ON WORMS I would not enter on my list of friends, Though graced with polished manners and fine sense, Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm. An inadvertent step may crush the snail The creeping vermin, loathsome to the sight, ΙΟ A visitor unwelcome, into scenes Sacred to neatness and repose-th' alcove, A necessary act incurs no blame. Not so when, held within their proper bounds 15 And guiltless of offence, they range the air, Who, when she formed, designed them an abode. 1785. 20 ON THE DEATH OF MRS. THROCKMORTON'S Ye nymphs, if e'er your eyes were red O, share Maria's grief! Her fav'rite, even in his cage (What will not hunger's cruel rage?), 5 Where Rhenus strays his vines among, The egg was laid from which he sprung; Or only with a whistle blest, Well-taught, he all the sounds expressed The honours of his ebon poll Were brighter than the sleekest mole; With which Aurora decks the skies Above, below, in all the house, And Bully's cage supported stood Well latticed-but the grate, alas! For Bully's plumage sake, But smooth with wands from Ouse's side, Night veiled the pole; all seemed secure; A beast forth sallied on the scout, Long-backed, long-tailed, with whiskered snout, 35 And badger-coloured hide. He, ent'ring at the study door, And something in the wind Conjectured, sniffing round and round, Just then, by adverse fate impressed, For, aided both by ear and scent, Minute the horrors that ensued: His teeth were strong, the cage was wood,- O, had he made that too his prey! Might have repaid him well, I wote, Fast stuck within his own. Maria weeps, the Muses mourn; 1788. 55 60 65 1794. ON THE RECEIPT OF MY MOTHER'S PICTURE O that those lips had language! Life has passed 5 "Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away!” To quench it) here shines on me still the same. O welcome guest, though unexpected here! I will obey, not willingly alone, But gladly, as the precept were her own: ΙΟ 15 A momentary dream that thou art she. 20 My mother! when I learned that thou wast dead, 25 30 35 And, disappointed still, was still deceived, By expectation every day beguiled, 40 Dupe of to-morrow even from a child. Thus many a sad to-morrow came and went, Till, all my stock of infant sorrow spent, I learnt at last submission to my lot, But, though I less deplored thee, ne'er forgot. 45 Where once we dwelt our name is heard no more: Children not thine have trod my nursery floor; 50 That once we called the pastoral house our own. That memory keeps, of all thy kindness there, 55 Still outlives many a storm that has effaced A thousand other themes less deeply traced. Thy nightly visits to my chamber made, That thou mightst know me safe and warmly laid; Thy morning bounties ere I left my home, 60 The biscuit or confectionary plum; The fragrant waters on my cheeks bestowed By thy own hand, till fresh they shone and glowed; All this, and, more endearing still than all, Thy constant flow of love, that knew no fall, 65 Ne'er roughened by those cataracts and breaks That humour interposed too often makes; All this, still legible in mem'ry's page, And still to be so to my latest age, 70 Such honours to thee as my numbers may, Perhaps a frail memorial, but sincere, Not scorned in heaven though little noticed here. Could Time, his flight reversed, restore the hours When, playing with thy vesture's tissued flow'rs, 75 The violet, the pink, and jessamine, I pricked them into paper with a pin (And thou wast happier than myself the while, Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head and smile), 80 Might one wish bring them, would I wish them here? I would not trust my heart-the dear delight 85 |