I've a Pain in my Head'I've a pain in my head'
Said the suffering Beckford; To her Doctor so dread. 'Oh! what shall I take for't?' Said this Doctor so dread Whose name it was Newnham. 'For this pain in your head Ah! What can you do Ma'am?' Said Miss Beckford, 'Suppose If you think there's no risk, I take a good Dose Of calomel brisk.'-- 'What a praise worthy Notion.' Replied Mr. Newnham. 'You shall have such a potion And so will I too Ma'am.' |
Mock Panegyric on a Young FriendIn measured verse I'll now rehearse
The charms of lovely Anna: And, first, her mind is unconfined Like any vast savannah. Ontario's lake may fitly speak Her fancy's ample bound: Its circuit may, on strict survey Five hundred miles be found. Her wit descends on foes and friends Like famed Niagara's fall; And travellers gaze in wild amaze, And listen, one and all. Her judgment sound, thick, black, profound, Like transatlantic groves, Dispenses aid, and friendly shade To all that in it roves. If thus her mind to be defined America exhausts, And all that's grand in that great land In similes it costs -- Oh how can I her person try To image and portray? How paint the face, the form how trace, In which those virtues lay? Another world must be unfurled, Another language known, Ere tongue or sound can publish round Her charms of flesh and bone. |
Ode to Pity1
Ever musing I delight to tread The Paths of honour and the Myrtle Grove Whilst the pale Moon her beams doth shed On disappointed Love. While Philomel on airy hawthorn Bush Sings sweet and Melancholy, And the thrush Converses with the Dove. 2 Gently brawling down the turnpike road, Sweetly noisy falls the Silent Stream-- The Moon emerges from behind a Cloud And darts upon the Myrtle Grove her beam. Ah! then what Lovely Scenes appear, The hut, the Cot, the Grot, and Chapel queer, And eke the Abbey too a mouldering heap, Cnceal'd by aged pines her head doth rear And quite invisible doth take a peep. |