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Hours, when the Poet's words and looks
Had yet their native glow:
Had made him talk for show;
He flash'd his random speeches;
His literary leeches.
So mix for ever with the past,
Like all good things on earth! For should I prize thee, could'st thou last,
At half thy real worth 1 I hold it good, good things should pass:
With time I will not quarrel: It is but yonder empty glass
That makes me maudlin-moral.
• • • •
Head-waiter of the chop-house here,
To which I most resort,
For this good pint of port.
For this, thou shalt from all things suck
Marrow of mirth and laughter; And, wheresoe'er thou move, good luck
Shall fling her old shoe after.
But thou wilt never move from hence,
The sphere thy fate allots:
Go down among the pots:
In haunts of hungry sinners,
Of thirty thousand dinners.
We fret, we fume, would shift our skins,
Would quarrel with our lot;
To serve the hot-and-hot;
Returning like the pewit,
That trifle with the cruet.
194 WILL WATERPROOF'S LYRICAL MONOLOGUE.
Live long, ere from thy topmost head
The thick-set hazel dies;
The comers of thine eyes:
Our changeful equinoxes,
Shall call thee from the boxes.
But when he calls, and thou shalt cease
To pace the gritted floor,
Of life, shalt earn no more;
Shall show thee past to Heaven:
A pint-pot, neatly graven.
Lord Ronald courted Lady Clare,
Lord Ronald, her cousin, courted her,
"He does not love me for my birth,
He loves me for my own true worth,
In there came old Alice the nurse,
Said, " Who was this that went from thee?" "It was my cousin," said Lady Clare,
"To-morrow he weds with me."
"O God be thank'd!" said Alice the nurse,
Lord Ronald is heir of all your lands,
"Are ye out of your mind, my nurse, my nurse?' Said Lady Clare, " that ye speak so wild?"
"As God 's above," said Alice the nurse, "I speak the truth: you are my child.
"The old Earl's daughter died at my breast
I buried her like my own sweet child,
"Falsely, falsely have ye done,
O mother," she said, " if this be true,
To keep the best man under the sun