Richard Crawley

Shall clamorous youth alone our lyres engage ?
Go, look at Brice and learn the charms of age !
What though thy vigour slumbers in thy years ?
What though thy brow a trace of ruin wears ?
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Goodness, Friendship, Wit, and Mirth,
All lie buried in this earth.
Sussex bore him, Cambridge bred,
Steeple Ashton holds him dead.
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SOME countries are famed for their wines or their women,
And some for what has been, and some for what's coming ;
But old Ireland's a place that can boast, I'm a thinking,
Of things even finer than lasses or drinking ;
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A hungry eagle, wishing to be fed,
Let fall a tortoise on a poet's head,
And Athens mourned her noblest singer dead.
Oh had the bird our bald tormentor known,
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A jail-bird's our member, 'tis true ;
Good folk, you've no reason to rail :
'Tis a comfort for me and for you
To know that our member's in jail.
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'Pluto, that dog confound!' a donkey brayed,
He's got the manger that for me was made.
I cannot lift my nose to smell the feast,
All for that snarling and unwholesome beast.
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The slave that found the noble Gracchus' head,
To gain more gold replaced the brains with lead;
Should B 's ever in such scales be thrown,
Finder, be wise, and leave the brains alone.
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Mortals, whosoe'er ye be,
Know the consecrated tree :
Tender virgins, bow before it;
Wanton bachelors, adore it.
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The bloom is fading from the heather,
The gorse has scattered half its gold,
And, presaging a ruder weather,
September's winds blow keen and cold.
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Oh come not to my grave when I am dead ;
The soul you loved was never buried there :
It did not linger till the prayers were said ;
It tarried not in the material air.
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I, Sarah L___w, better known
As Giddle when I lived alone,
Having observed that humble folk
Must like their betters one day croak,
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Mirror, unto England fly,
Seek Louise, and say that I
Sent you to her that you might
Tell her, standing in her sight,
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1.
Her sleep was calm as summer night,
Her opening eyes like spring awaking;
Her smile as fleet as is the light
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Whom the gods love die young ! The happiest time
Comes first, 'twere better not to live the rest ;
Or live it in the visions of our prime,
Nor wait for Age to claim hope's interest.
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Honour and gain may ne'er be mine,
'Tis not for these I live ;
I ask but what the free sunshine
And liberty can give,
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1.
They tell me that thou art not such
As I have always thought ;
That I have worshipped thee too much,
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Tis sweet to stand on the firm shore and see
A swimmer striving with the billows' breath;
'Tis sweet afar to sit when battles be,
And see men threading the grim dance of death.
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1.
Come, queen of fantasy,
Stream, field, and sky are tortured with the light;
We cannot any more
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When as I think on all the love I give
To one who still must marble be to me,
When I regard how all my fellows live
And marvel at my loving only thee,
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Dear F , my fancy in the cage of law,
Set with a tribe of rooks to learn to caw,
Flies off at eve, and in its circles true,
Seems but to wander to return to you.
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