The rank is but the guinea's stamp, Is there for Honest Poverty. A prince can make a belted knight, Guid faith, he maunna fa' that. But to see her was to love her, Ibid. Love but her, and love for ever. Song. Ae Fond Kiss. Had we never loved sae kindly, We had ne'er been broken-hearted. O, my love's like a red, red rose, That's sweetly played in tune. Ibid. Song. A Red, Red Rose. Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new. The Cottar's Saturday Night. Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale. Ibid. He wales a portion with judicious care; And 'Let us worship God!' he says, with solemn air. Ibid. * I weigh the man, not his title; 't is not the king's stamp can make the metal better.-WYCHERLEY. The Plaindealer. Acti. Sc. 1. GEORGE COLMAN, THE YOUNGER. ΟΝ N their own merits modest men are dumb. And what's impossible can't be, And never, never comes to pass. The Maid of the Moor. Three stories high, long, dull, and old, As great lord's stories often are. But when ill indeed, Ibid. Thank you, good sir, I owe you one.. Ibid. DICKINSON-MOSS-TOWNLEY. 265 JOHN DICKINSON. 1732-1808. 'HEN join in hand, brave Americans all; TH By uniting we stand, by dividing we fall. PITY the sorrows of a poor old man, Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door, Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span ; Oh! give relief, and Heaven will bless your store. The Beggar. JAMES TOWNLEY. 1778. Kitty. SH HIKSPUR? Shikspur? Who wrote it? Lady Bab. Then you have an immense pleasure to come. High Life below Stairs. Act ii. Sc. 1. From humble Port to imperial Tokay. Ibid. 266 MALLETT-BRYDGES-CANNING. DAVID MALLETT. 1700-1765. WHILE tumbling down the turbid stream, WHILE Lord love us, how we apples swim. Tyburn. SIR SAMUEL EGERTON BRYDGES. 1763-1837. 'HE glory dies not, and the grief is past.* THE Sonnet on the Death of Sir Walter Scott. STOR GEORGE CANNING. 1770-1827. TORY! God bless you, I have none to tell, sir! I give thee sixpence! I will see thee d -d first. Ibid. • But of the deed the glory shall remain.-GRIMOALDE. (Circa 15201563. Musonius the Philosopher's Saying. HOPKINSON-EVERETT. 267 But of all plagues, good Heaven, thy wrath can send, Save, save, oh, save me from the candid friend! New Morality. From the Poetry of the Anti-Jacobin. So down thy hill, romantic Ashbourne, glides The Loves of the Triangles. Line 178. From the Poetry of the Anti-Facobin. JOSEPH HOPKINSON. 1770-1842. HAIL, Columbia! happy land! Hail, ye heroes! heaven-born band! Who fought and died in freedom's cause. Hail Columbia. DAVID EVERETT. 1796-1813. OU'D scarce expect one of my age YOU'D To speak in public on the stage; And if I chance to fall below Demosthenes or Cicero, Don't view me with a critic's eye, But pass my imperfections by. Large streams from little fountains flow, Tall oaks from little acorns grow. Lines written for a School Declamation. These lines are ascribed to John Hookham Frere in Chambers's Cyclopædia of English Literature, vol. ii. p. 325. |