And yet this strange, this sudden flight, This fickleness so light and vain, EPIGRAM. ON A BAD DINNER WITH EXCELLENT PUNCH. FRIEND Palo may boast of true orthodox merit, What he wants in the flesh he makes up in the spirit. EPIGRAM. To be French cook'd, French dress'd, French horn'd, To ape French politic's, tho' scorn'd, Observe their simple lev'ling plan, E. C. LOVE AND TIME. LOVE was a little blooming boy, Fond, innocent, and true: His ev'ry smile was fraught with joy, And ev'ry joy was new. Till, stealing from his mother's side, O Time! I'll dress thy locks of snow With wreaths of fragrant flowers, And all that rapture can bestow, Shall deck thy fleeting hours. But for one day, one little day, Time, cheated by his tears and sighs, Short was his bliss, the treach'rous boy He'd still the wings of Time. Mrs. Robinson. EPISTLE FROM LORD MELCOMBE TO DR. YOUNG, KIND companion of my youth, THE WILD HUNTSMAN. The tradition of the Wild Huntsman is a popular superstition, very generally believed by peasants in Germany. - The original of the Ballad is by Biirger. THE Wildgrave* winds his bugle horn, The eager pack, from couples freed, Dash thro' the bush, the brier, the brake, While answering horn, and hound, and steed, The mountain echoes startling wake. The beams of God's own hallow'd day But still the Wildgrave onward rides, * A German title corresponding to the Earl Warden of a royal forest. Who was each stranger, left and right, The right hand horseman, young and fair, He wav'd his huntsman's cap on high, " Cease thy loud bugle's clanging knell," Cry'd the fair youth, with silver voice; "And for devotion's choral swell, Exchange the rude unhallow'd noise. To day the ill-omen'd chace forbear; Yon bell yet summons to the fane; To day the warning spirit hear, To-morrow thou may'st mourn in vain." " Away and sweep the glades along," The sable hunter hoarse replies; "To mutt'ring monks leave matin song, And bells and books and mysteries." |