. 5 THE DOG AND THE WATER-LILY. NO FABLE. THE noon was shady, and soft airs When, 'scaped from literary cares, I wandered on his side. My spaniel, prettiest of his race, (Two nymphs adorned with every grace, Now wantoned lost in flags and reeds, Pursued the swallow o'er the meads With scarce a slower flight. It was the time when Ouse displayed His lilies newly blown; Their beauties I intent surveyed, And one I wished my own. With cane extended far, I sought To steer it close to land; But still the prize, though nearly caught, Escaped my eager hand. Beau marked my unsuccessful pains With fixed considerate face, And puzzling set his puppy brains But with a cherup clear and strong I thence withdrew, and followed long ΙΟ 15 20 25 My ramble ended, I returned, Beau trotting far before, 30 The floating wreath again discerned, And plunging left the shore. I saw him, with that lily cropped, Impatient swim to meet My quick approach, and soon he dropped The treasure at my feet. Charmed with the sight, 'The world,' I cried, 'Shall hear of this thy deed: My dog shall mortify the pride 'But chief, myself I will enjoin, To show a love as prompt as thine To Him who gives me all.' 35 40 ON THE DEATH OF MRS. THROCK- YE nymphs! if e'er your eyes were red Her favourite, even in his cage, Where Rhenus strays his vines among, Or only with a whistle blessed, Well taught, he all the sounds expressed 5 ΙΟ 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, 15 20 25 30 Night veiled the pole; all seemed secure ; Subsistence to provide, A beast forth sallied on the scout, Long backed, long tailed, with whiskered snout, 35 In sleep he seemed to view For aided both by ear and scent, 45 Right to his mark the monster went- 50 Minute the horrors that ensued; His teeth were strong, the cage was wood- RECEIPT OF MY MOTHER'S PICTURE OUT OF NORFOLK, THE GIFT OF MY COUSIN, ANN BODHAM. OH 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! But gladly, as the precept were her own: A momentary dream, that thou art she. My mother! when I learned that thou wast dead, Perhaps thou gavest me, though unfelt, a kiss; ΙΟ 15 20 25 30 35 40 |