'Rome shall perish-write that word 'Rome, for empire far renowned, Tramples on a thousand states; Soon her pride shall kiss the ground- 'Other Romans shall arise, Heedless of a soldier's name; Sounds, not arms, shall win the prize, 'Then the progeny that springs From the forests of our land, Armed with thunder, clad with wings, Shall a wider world command. 'Regions Cæsar never knew, Such the Bard's prophetic words, Of his sweet but awful lyre. She, with all a monarch's pride, Felt them in her bosom glow: Rushed to battle, fought, and died; Dying, hurled them at the foe. 'Ruffians, pitiless as proud, Heaven awards the vengeance due; Empire is on us bestowed, Shame and ruin wait for you!' 15 20 25 30 35 40 THE POET, THE OYSTER, &c. 185 THE POET, THE OYSTER, AND SENSITIVE PLANT. AN oyster, cast upon the shore, 'Ah, hapless wretch! condemned to dwell For ever in my native shell, Ordained to move when others please, I envy that unfeeling shrub, The plant he meant grew not far off, 5 ΤΟ 15 And with asperity replied: 20 With curious touch examines me, If I can feel as well as he; And when I bend, retire, and shrink, Says "Well, 'tis more than one would think!" In being touched, and crying-Don't!' O'erheard and checked this idle talk. 'And your fine sense,' he said, 'and yours, Whatever evil it endures, 35 40 Deserves not, if so soon offended, Much to be pitied or commended. Disputes, though short, are far too long, 45 'You, in your grotto-work enclosed, Complain of being thus exposed; Yet nothing feel in that rough coat (Save when the knife is at your throat) Wherever driven by wind or tide, Exempt from every ill beside. 50 'And as for you, my Lady Squeamish, 55 Who reckon every touch a blemish, If all the plants that can be found Should droop and wither where they grow, 60 THE COLUBRIAD. CLOSE by the threshold of a door nailed fast At the three kittens cast a careless eye; Not much concerned to know what they did there, 5 Caused me to stop, and to exclaim, 'What's this?' 10 A viper, long as Count de Grasse's queue. Forth from his head his forked tongue he throws, Darting it full against a kitten's nose; Who having never seen, in field or house, 15 Only projecting, with attention due, Her whiskered face, she asked him, 'Who are you?' 20 And turning up the leaves and shrubs around, 25 30 His head, with velvet paw, did gently pat: As curious as the kittens erst had been To learn what this phenomenon might mean. 35 Filled with heroic ardour at the sight, And fearing every moment he would bite, That was of age to combat with a rat; With outstretched hoe I slew him at the door, And taught him NEVER TO COME THERE NO MORE. 40 ON THE LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE. WRITTEN WHEN THE NEWS ARRIVED, BY DESIRE OF LADY AUSTEN, WHO WANTED WORDS |