"Twill be consigned to the next carrier's care, I cannot yield it all,—be half thy share. HARRY. Well does the gift thy liquorish palate suit ; EDWARD. I scorn a telltale, or I could declare How, leave unasked, you sought the neighbouring fair; Then home by moonlight spurred your jaded steed, And scarce returned before the hour of bed. * Non ego, te vidi, Damonis +Tu post carecta latebas. Think how thy trembling heart had felt affright, Had not our master supped abroad that night. HARRY. On the smooth whitewashed ceiling near thy bed, Mixed with thine own, is Anna's cypher read; From wreaths of dusky smoke the letters flow;Whose hand the waving candle held, I know. Fines and jobations shall thy soul appall, Whene'er our mistress spies the sullied wall. EDWARD. Unconned her lesson once, in idle mood, Trembling before the master, Anna stood; HARRY. Think not I blush to own so bright a flame, Even boys for her assume the lover's name ; As far as alleys beyond taws we prize*, Or venison pasty ranks above school pies; Or Parmesan excells a Suffolk cheese; Or Palgrave donkeys lag behind a steed,— So far do Anna's charms all other charms exceed. EDWARD. Tell, if thou canst, where is that creature bred, Whose wide-stretched mouth is larger than its head: Guess, and my great Apollo thou shalt be†, And cake and ship shall both remain with thee. HARRY. Explain thou first, what portent late was seen, * Lenta salix quantum pallenti cedit olivæ. Eight legs, depending from his ample sides, Each well-built flank unequally divides; For five on this, on that side three are found, Four swiftly move, and four not touch the ground. Long time the moving prodigy I viewed, By gazing men, and barking dogs pursued. WILLIAM. Cease! cease your carols, both! for lo the bell, With jarring notes, has rung out Pleasure's knell. Loud through the dome the usher's strokes resound. Sneak off, and to your places slily steal, Before the prowess of his arm you feel. WHAT DO THE FUTURES SPEAK OF? IN ANSWER TO A QUESTION IN THE GREEK GRAMMAR. THEY speak of never-withering shades, And bowers of opening joy ; They promise mines of fairy gold, And bliss without alloy. They whisper strange enchanting things Within Hope's greedy ears; And sure this tuneful voice exceeds The music of the spheres. |