The pony, Betty, and her boy, That hobbles up the steep rough road? Long Susan lay deep lost in thought, Both for her messenger and nurse; Her body it grew better. She turned, she toss'd herself in bed, Point after point did she discuss ; And while her mind was fighting thus, Her body still grew better. "Alas! what is become of them? "These fears can never be endured, "I'll to the wood."—The word scarce said. Did Susan rise up from her bed, Away she posts up hill and down, She spies her friends, she shouts a greeting; Oh me! it is a merry meeting, As ever was in Christendom. The owls have hardly sung their last, While our four travellers homeward wend; The owls have hooted all night long, And with the owls began my song, And with the owls must end. For while they all were travelling home, "Where all this long night you have been, Now Johnny all night long had heard And thus to Betty's question, he Made answer, like a traveller bold, (His very words I give to you,) "The cocks did crow to-whoo, to-whoo, "And the sun did shine so cold." -Thus answered Johnny in his glory," And that was all his travel's story. LINES WRITTEN NEAR RICHMOND, UPON THE THAMES, AT EVENING. How rich the ware, in front, imprest With evening-twilight's summer hues, And see how dark the backward stream ! 1 And still, perhaps, with faithless gleam, Such views the youthful bard allure, Who would not cherish dreams so sweet, Glide gently, thus for ever glide, O Thames! that other bards may see, As lovely visions by thy side As now, fair river! come to me. Oh glide, fair stream! for ever so; As thy deep waters now are flowing. |