A NEW SONG TO A TUNE NEVER SUNG BEFORE. 1. I SING of a journey to Clifton,* We would have perform'd if we could, * Clifton Reynes, of which church Lady Austen's brother-in-law was incumbent. Without cart or barrow to lift on Poor Mary* and me through the mud. Stuck in the mud. Oh it is pretty to wade through a flood! 2. So away we went, slipping and sliding, Go briskly about, But they clatter and rattle, and make such a rout! 3. SHE. "Well! now I protest it is charming; HE. "Pshaw! never mind, "Tis not in the wind, We are travelling south, and shall leave it behind." 4. SHE. "I am glad we are come for an airing, Until they grow rusty, not caring To stir half-a-mile to an end." HE. "The longer we stay, The longer we may; It's a folly to think about weather or way." 5. SHE. "But now I begin to be frighted; * Mrs. Unwin. HE. "Nay, never care! 'Tis a common affair; You'll not be the last that will set a foot there." 6. SHE. "Let me breathe now a little, and ponder On what it were better to do; That terrible lane I see yonder, I think we shall never get through." HE. "So think I: But, by the by, We never shall know, if we never should try." 7. SHE. "But should we get there, how shall we get home? O this lane: Now it is plain That struggling and striving is labour in vain." "I have examined it every nook, And what you see here is a sample of all. The dirt we have found Would be an estate at a farthing a pound." 9. Now, sister Anne,* the guitar you must take, *Lady Austen. I have varied the verse for variety's sake, Which critics wont blame, For the sense and the sound, they say, should be the same. THE ROSE. THE rose had been wash'd, just wash'd in a shower, The plentiful moisture encumber'd the flower, And weigh'd down its beautiful head. The cup was all fill'd, and the leaves were all wet, And it seem'd, to a fanciful view, To weep for the buds it had left with regret I hastily seized it, unfit as it was For a nosegay, so dripping and drown'd, "And such," I exclaim'd, " is the pitiless part Regardless of wringing and breaking a heart “This elegant rose, had I shaken it less, Might have bloom'd with its owner awhile; THE VALEDICTION.+ FAREWELL, false hearts; whose best affections fail I bid you both a long and last adieu! Cold in my turn, and unconcern'd like you. * "Mary" was Mrs. Unwin; "Anna," Lady Austen. These lines were written in a fit of indignation, because neither Lord Thurlow nor Colman had acknowledged the receipt of his first volume of poems. "Black First farewell Niger!* whom, now duly proved, Your brain well furnish'd, and your tongue well taught Sound sense, intrepid spirit, manly grace, Your sullen silence serves at least to tell Terentius, once my friend, farewell to thee! When Nichols§ swung the birch and twined the bays, I thought the volume I presumed to send, "Lord Thurlow. + Colman, proprietor of the Haymarket Theatre. § The master of Westminster school when Cowper was there. In the Connoisseur. |