And gingerbread y-rare, now certes, doubly Yet nursed with skill, what dazzling fruits ap sweet. See, to their seats they hie with merry glee, pear! E'en now sagacious Foresight points to show A little heedless bench of bishops here, And there a chancellor in embryo, Or bard sublime, if bard may e'er be so, Abhorreth bench, and stool, and form, and As Shakspere, Milton, names that ne'er shall If so I deem aright, transcending worth and But now Dan Phoebus gains the middle sky, fame. Behind some door, in melancholy thought, Mindless of food, he, dreary caitiff! pines; And Liberty unbars her prison door; And like a rushing torrent out they fly, And now the grassy cirque have covered o'er But, I remember, when the fight was done, When I was dry with rage, and extreme toil, Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dress'd, Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin, new reap'd, Show'd like a stubble-land at harvest-home; And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held Took it in snuff:-and still he smil'd, and talk'd; And, as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, To bring a slovenly unhandsome, corse To be so pester'd with a popinjay, 1 Answer'd neglectingly, I know not what; To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet, And telling me, the sovereign'st thing on earth Was parmaceti, for an inward bruise; Betwixt my love and your high majesty. In secret shadow, far from all men's sight; From her fair head her fillet she undight, And laid her stole aside; her angel's face, As the great eye of heaven, shined bright, And made a sunshine in the shady place; Did never mortal eye behold such heavenly grace. It fortuned, out of the thickest wood Instead thereof, he kissed her weary feet, And licked her lily hands with fawning tongue; As he her wronged innocence did meet. OUGHT is there under heaven's wide Whose yielded pride and proud submission, hollowness, That moves more dear compassion of mind, Than beauty brought to unworthy wretched ness Through envy's snares or fortune's freaks unkind. I, whether lately through her brightness blind, Or through allegiance and fast fealty, Yet she, most faithful lady, all this while wrought, Had her abandoned; she, of nought afraid, Through woods and wasteness wide him daily sought; Yet wished tidings none of him unto her brought. One day, nigh weary of the irksome way, Still dreading death, when she had marked long, Her heart 'gan melt in great compassion ; And drizzling tears did shed for pure affection. "The lion, lord of every beast in field,” Quoth she, "his princely puissance doth abate, And mighty proud to humble weak does yield. Redounding tears did choke th' end of her plaint, Which softly echoed from the neighbor wood; RECEIVED one morning a message from poor Goldsmith that he was in great distress, and as it was not in his power to come to me, begging I would come to him as soon as possible. I sent him a guinea, and promised to come to him directly. I accordingly went as soon as I was dressed, and found that his landlady had arrested him for his rent, at which he was in a violent passion. I perceived that he had already changed my guinea, and had got a bottle of madeira and a glass before him. I put the cork into the bottle, desired he would be calm, and began to talk to him of the means by which he might be extricated. He then told me that he had a novel ready for the press, which he produced to me. I looked into it, and saw its merit; told the landlady I would soon return; and having gone to a bookseller, sold it for sixty pounds. I brought Goldsmith the money, and he discharged his rent, not without rating his landlady in a high tone for having used him so ill. |