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TO THE SAME,

ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF HER WEDDING-DAY, WHICH WAS

ALSO HER BIRTH-DAY, WITH A RING.

Thee, Mary, with this ring I wed”
So, fourteen years ago, I said.-
Behold another ring for what?”
To wed thee o'er again?”—Why not?

With that first ring I married youth,
Grace, beauty, innocence, and truth;
Taste long admir'd, sense long rever'd,
And all my Molly then appear'd.

If she, by merit since disclos'd,
Prove twice the woman I suppos’d,
I plead that double merit now,
To justify a double vow.

Here then to-day, (with faith as sure,
With ardour as intense, as pure,
As when, amidst the rites divine,
I took thy troth, and plighted mine,)
To thee, sweet girl, my second ring
A token and a pledge I bring :
With this I wed, till death us part,
Thy riper virtues to my heart;
Those virtues, which before untried,
The wife has added to the bride :
Those virtues, whose progressive claim,
Endearing wedlock's very name,

My soul enjoys, my song approves,
For conscience sake, as well as love's.

And why!—They shew me every hour, Honour's high thought, Affection's power, Discretion's deed, sound Judgment's sentence,And teach me all things—but repentance.

EPIGRAM.

QUOD PETIS, HIC EST.

No plate had John and Joan to hoard,

Plain folk, in humble plight;
One only tankard crown'd their board;

And that was fill’d each night;

Along whose inner bottom sketch'd,

In pride of chubby grace,
Some rude engraver's hand had etch'd

A baby angel's face.

John swallow'd first a moderate sup;

But Joan was not like John;
For when her lips once touch'd the cup,

She swill'd, till all was gone.

John often urg'd her to drink fair ;

But she ne'er chang'd a jot; She lov'd to see the angel there,

And therefore drain'd the pot.

When John found all remonstrance vain,

Another card he play'd;
And where the Angel stood so plain,

He got a Devil portray'd.

Joan saw the horns, Joan saw the tail,

Yet Joan as stoutly quaff'd; And ever, when she seiz'd her ale,

She clear'd it at a draught.

John star'd, with wonder petrified;

His hair stood on his pate;
And “why dost guzzle now," he cried,

66 At this enormous rate?".

“ Oh! John,” she said, “ am I to blame?

I can't in conscience stop: « For sure 'twould be a burning shame,

• To leave the Devil a drop!"

EPIGRAM.

SPLENDEAT USU.

See! stretch'd on nature's couch of grass,

The foot-sore-traveller lies!
Vast treasures let the great amass“;
A leathern pouch, and burning glass,

For all his wants suffice.
VOL. VI.

For him the sun its power displays,

In either hemisphere;
Pours on Virginia's coast its blaze,
Tobacco for his pipe to raise;

And shines to light it—here !

EPIGRAM.

QUOCUNQUE MODO REM.

A VETERAN gambler in a tempest caught,
Once in his life, a church's shelter sought;
Where many an hint, pathetically grave,
On life's precarious lot, the preacher gave.
The sermon ended, and the storm all spent,
Home trudg'd old Cog-die, reasoning as he went;
“ Strict truth," quoth he, “ this reverend sage de-

clar'd;
“ I feel conviction—and will be prepar'd-
“ Nor e'er henceforth, since life thus steals away,
“ Give credit for a bet, beyond a day!"

1

JOHN BAMPFYLDE.

BORN 1754.-DIED 1796.

John BAMPFYLDE was the younger brother of Sir Charles Bampfylde. He was educated at Cambridge, and published his sonnets? when very young. He soon after fell into mental derangement; and is said to have passed the last years of his life in confinement.

SONNET.

As when, to one, who long hath watch'd the morn

Advancing, slow forewarns th' approach of day, (What time the young and flow'ry-kirtled May

Decks the green hedge, and dewy grass unshorn With cowslips pale, and many a whitening thorn ;)

And now the sun comes forth, with level ray Gilding the high-wood top, and mountain gray;

And, as he climbs, the meadows 'gins adorn; The rivers glisten to the dancing beam,

Th’awaken’d birds begin their amorous strain,

And hill and vale with joy and fragrance teem; Such is the sight of thee; thy wish'd return To eyes, like mine, that long have wak'd to mourn,

That long have watch'd for light, and wept in vain !

i Censura Literaria, vol iv. p. 301.

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