Puslapio vaizdai
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AUGUSTA WEBSTER - FREDERICK LOCKER

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Lys. Myr.

Yes.

465

Throw the curtains back. Put out those lights. Now sing until I sleep. [Exeunt Servants. No dirges, boy; that song Klydone lov'd, Philomel and the aloe flower, sing that. Lys. [Sings.]

Joy that's half too keen and true
Makes us tears.

Oh the sweetness of the tears!
If such joy at hand appears,
Snatch it, give thine all for it:
Joy that is so exquisite,

Lost, comes not new.

(One blossom for a hundred years.)

Grief that's fond, and dies not soon,
Makes delight.

Oh the pain of the delight!
If thy grief be Love's aright,
Tend it close and let it grow :
Grief so tender not to know

Loses Love's boon.

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Worse follow'd soon the jade
Fled (to oblige her blade !)

Whilst her friends thought that they'd
Lock'd her up tightly:

After such shocking games
Aunt is of wedded dames
Gayest, and now her name 's
Mrs. Golightly.

In female conduct, flaw
Sadder I never saw.
Faith still I've in the law

Of compensation.
Once Uncle went astray,
Smok'd, jok'd, and swore away;
Sworn by he's now, by a

Large congregation.
Changed is the Child of Sin;
Now he's (he once was thin)
Grave, with a double chin,

Blest be his fat form! Changed is the garb he wore, Preacher was never more Priz'd than is Uncle for Pulpit or platform.

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THE characters of great and small

Come ready-made, we can't bespeak one; Their sides are many, too, and all

(Except ourselves) have got a weak one. Some sanguine people love for life,

Some love their hobby till it flings them. How many love a pretty wife

For love of the éclat she brings them!

A little to relieve my mind

I've thrown off this disjointed chatter, But more because I'm disinclin'd

To enter on a painful matter:

Once I was bashful; I'll allow

I've blush'd for words untimely spoken; I still am rather shy, and now. And now the ice is fairly broken.

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We all have secrets: you have one Which may n't be quite your charming spouse's ;

We all lock up a skeleton

In some grim chamber of our houses; Familiars, who exhaust their days

And nights in probing where our smart is,

And who, excepting spiteful ways,
Are "silent, unassuming parties."

We hug this phantom we detest,
Rarely we let it cross our portals;
It is a most exacting guest:

Now, are we not afflicted mortals?
Your neighbor Gay, that jovial wight,

As Dives rich, and brave as Hector, Poor Gay steals twenty times a night,

On shaking knees, to see his spectre.

Old Dives fears a pauper fate,

So hoarding is his ruling passion : Some gloomy souls anticipate

A waistcoat straiter than the fashion!

She childless pines, that lonely wife,

And secret tears are bitter shedding; Hector may tremble all his life,

And die,- but not of that he's dreading.

Ah me, the World!—how fast it spins! The beldams dance, the caldron bubbles; They shriek, they stir it for our sins,

And we must drain it for our troubles. We toil, we groan; the cry for love Mounts up from this poor seething city, And yet I know we have above A FATHER infinite in pity.

When Beauty smiles, when Sorrow weeps, Where sunbeams play, where shadows darken,

One inmate of our dwelling keeps

Its ghastly carnival; but hearken! How dry the rattle of the bones!

That sound was not to make you start

meant :

Stand by! Your humble servant owns The Tenant of this Dark Apartment.

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