Go, therefore, thou! thy betters went With twisted quirks and happy hits, The tavern-hours of mighty wits Thine elders and thy betters. 192 Hours, when the Poet's words and looks Had yet their native glow: Had made him talk for show; His literary leeches. So mix forever with the past, Like all good things on earth! 200 For should I prize thee, couldst thou last, I hold it good, good things should pass: With time I will not quarrel: It is but yonder empty glass That makes me maudlin-moral. * 208 Head-waiter of the chop-house here, To which I most resort, I too must part: I hold thee dear For this, thou shalt from all things such And, wheresoe'er thou move, good luck Shall fling her old shoe after. 216 But thou wilt never move from hence, The sphere thy fate allots: Thy latter days increased with pence Go down among the pots: In haunts of hungry sinners, Of thirty thousand dinners. 224 We fret, we fume, would shift our skins, Would quarrel with our lot; Thy care is, under polished tins, To serve the hot-and-hot ; To come and go, and come again, And watched by silent gentlemen, That trifle with the cruet. 232 Live long, ere from thy topmost head Long, ere the hateful crow shall tread The corners of thine eyes; Live long, nor feel in head or chest Our changeful equinoxes, Till mellow Death, like some late guest, Shall call thee from the boxes. 242 But when he calls, and thou shalt cease And, laying down an unctuous lease Of life, shalt earn no more: No carved cross-bones, the types of Death, Shall show thee past to Heaven ; But carved cross-pipes, and, underneath, A pint-pot, neatly graven. 248 LADY CLARE. LORD RONALD Courted Lady Clare, "He does not love me for my birth, In there came old Alice the nurse, Said, "Who was this that went from thee?" "It was my cousin," said Lady Clare, "To-morrow he weds with me." "O God be thanked!" said Alice the nurse, "That all comes round so just and fair : Lord Ronald is heir of all your lands, And you are not the Lady Clare.” "Are ye out of your mind, my nurse, my nurse?" Said Lady Clare, "that ye speak so wild?" "As God's above," said Alice the nurse, "I speak the truth: you are my child. "The old Earl's daughter died at my breast, "Falsely, falsely have ye done, O mother," she said, "if this be true, To keep the best man under the sun many years from his due." So Nay now, my child," said Alice the nurse, "But keep the secret for your life, And all you have will be Lord Ronald's, you are man and wife." When "If I'm a beggar born," she said, |