Enthusiasts! check your reveries, Ye cannot always pluck at ease From Pleasure's cornucopia; Ye cannot alter Nature's plan, Change to a perfect being Man, Nor England to Utopia. Plunge in the busy current-stem The tide of errors ye condemn, And fill life's active uses; Begin reform yourselves, and live To prove that Honesty may thrive Unaided by abuses. TO A LADY. [On giving the writer a little bronze Cupid from Pompeii.] THANKS for thy little God of Love, Dug from Pompeii-whose fate 'tis, Henceforth to be install'd above My household Lares and Penates. Oh! could its lips of bronze unclose, Perchance, on that benighted day Of one whose mansion might display The choicest stores of classic taste. Of some one whose convivial board With all embellishments was deck'd, While her rich cabinets outpour'd A constant feast of Intellect. Of one who, tho' she ne'er declined Loved more to fill her house and mind Of one who thus could give delight Whether unlearn'd or erudite, Methinks thy new abode is one Thou wilt not, Cupid! disapprove, For all my married life has run A lengthen'd course of constant love. Prompt me, thou type of higher hope! It soar to social and divine. So, little Elf! shalt thou be eyed With double favour by thine owner, Both as a tutelary guide, And a memorial of thy donor. THE CHARMS OF LIFE. WHAT hath life to charm us? Flowers Whose sweet lips have ever sung Carols from the fields and bowers, In perfume's universal tongue. Choral fairies bright and merry! Hark! I hear your silver bells, Chiming from the tufted dells A May-day welcome-hey down derry! Hark again! those jocund calls Are Echo's voice, who loves to mock The laughter of the waterfalls That leap for joy from rock to rock. |