 | The Works of Thomas Love Peacock |  |
155
LETTER TO ROBERT WALROND 25 SEPTEMBER 1795
Dear Cousin,
While distant from your native land,
Among the Dons a ruffian band,
Forget not him, your little friend
Who promis'd you some lines to send.
That friendship, which to you I bore
Ere you had left Britannia's shore,
Still gathers strength, nor can decay,
Though marble rocks should wear away.
Among the Dons a ruffian band,
Forget not him, your little friend
Who promis'd you some lines to send.
That friendship, which to you I bore
Ere you had left Britannia's shore,
Still gathers strength, nor can decay,
Though marble rocks should wear away.
With pleasure Cousin I can tell,
That all my friends around are well;
I would transfer some little news,
Could I prevail upon my muse.
That all my friends around are well;
I would transfer some little news,
Could I prevail upon my muse.
My Uncle's ship did meet a foe,
Which instantly she brought in tow,
Whose value, very soon he found,
Was nearly thirty thousand pound!
One third I think, should be his share—
A wealthy Uncle I declare!
To touch the cash his finger itches,
I dread 'twill stop in other clutches.
Which instantly she brought in tow,
Whose value, very soon he found,
Was nearly thirty thousand pound!
One third I think, should be his share—
A wealthy Uncle I declare!
To touch the cash his finger itches,
I dread 'twill stop in other clutches.
I hope a moment you can spare,
To let me know how well you fare;
How you like the Spanish nation,
Men and Women, and their fashion:
Say are they handsome stout and tall,
Or are they meagre thin and small:
Thus send me ev'ry kind of news
'Twill give me pleasure to peruse!
To let me know how well you fare;
How you like the Spanish nation,
Men and Women, and their fashion:
Say are they handsome stout and tall,
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Thus send me ev'ry kind of news
'Twill give me pleasure to peruse!
Need I inform my Cousin dear,
How much I long to see him here;
On British ground, of yore an Isle
Which Freedom favor'd with a smile;
Forsake Madrid, soon leave proud Spain,
Then homewards cross the azure main;
Calm when you sail may Neptune keep
The surgy billows of the deep.
Ah! should old Davi ope his jaw
And lodge you in his hungry maw;
Sorrow pale would fill my breast,
To lose my friend would lose my rest.
Let not Æolus vex the waves,
Lock'd be the winds in roaring caves.
Smooth be the sea from shore to shore,
Your voyage safe and speedy o'er.
How glad your English friends will be,
On your return, your face to see;
And I how happy when you call,
At Chertsey, and at Gogmoor Hall.
I am your Servant and your friend,
Adieu—farewell, my verses end.
How much I long to see him here;
On British ground, of yore an Isle
Which Freedom favor'd with a smile;
Forsake Madrid, soon leave proud Spain,
Then homewards cross the azure main;
Calm when you sail may Neptune keep
The surgy billows of the deep.
Ah! should old Davi ope his jaw
And lodge you in his hungry maw;
Sorrow pale would fill my breast,
To lose my friend would lose my rest.
Let not Æolus vex the waves,
Lock'd be the winds in roaring caves.
Smooth be the sea from shore to shore,
Your voyage safe and speedy o'er.
How glad your English friends will be,
On your return, your face to see;
And I how happy when you call,
At Chertsey, and at Gogmoor Hall.
I am your Servant and your friend,
Adieu—farewell, my verses end.
| The Works of Thomas Love Peacock | |