University of Virginia Library

VERSES, ON THE DEATH OF A FAVOURITE SPANIEL, MALICIOUSLY POISONED.

How soon are blessings snatch'd away!
Our friends around us smile to-day,
But oft ere morning's early ray,
Salute the shore;
We see them stretch'd, pale, lifeless clay,
To please no more!
Poor Cupid!—fondest friend I knew;
To me, how kind! how matchless true!
Whose frolics oft my laughter drew,
Tho' grief deprest;—
By Death's envenomed steel pierc'd through,
Has breath'd his last.
But had the traitor, void of art,
Produc'd the death-denouncing dart,
And calmly aim'd it at his heart,
Still panting warm;
One piteous look had staid the smart,
And fix'd his arm.
Yet think not since his debt is paid,
I mourn the dear departed shade:
No—'neath yon apple tree he's laid,
To rise again;
Nor shall the youth or infant maid,
Escape his pain.

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Each year when Spring her reign resumes,
Then Cupid from his bed of glooms,
Shall spread the scarlet-tinctur'd blooms,
In glorious view;
While bees amid the rich perfumes,
Rove murm'ring through.
When Autumn comes, serene and slow,
And ruddy berries clustering glow;
When with ripe fruit the loaden'd bough,
Bends to the swaird;
Then Cupid swells the lov'liest show,
In Johnny's yard.
And though in apples now he rise,
Yet swift and keen his arrow flies;
For soon as e'er your ravish'd eyes
Gaze on his growth,
The blushing cheek and wond'rous size,
Wou'd bless your mouth.