Thomas Love Peacock.

Palmyra, and other poems online

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He made by hish bargains two hundred per shent.

And dat vay he finger' d de monish.



]34 LEVI MOSES.

Ma fader vash vise : very great vash hisli shenshe :

De monish he alvaysh vash turning:
And early he taught me poundsh, shillingsh^andpenshe j

*' For," shaysh he, '' dat ish all dat'sh vorth learning.
Ash to Latin and Greek, 'tish all nonshenshe, I shay,

Vhich occasion to shtudy dere none ish ;
But shtich closhe to Cocker, for dat ish de vay.

To teach you to finger de monish."

To a shtock-broker den I apprentishe vash bound.

Who hish monish lov'd very shinsherely;
And, trough hish inshtmctions, I very shoon found,

I ma bushinesh knew pretty clearly.
Shaysh he : *"' cheat a little : 'tish no shuch great crime.

Provided it cleverly done ish:"
Sho I cleverly cheated him every time

I could manage to finger hish monish.



LEVI MOSES. 135

And den I shet up for a broker mashelf.

And Fortune hash shmil'd on ma laborshj
I've minded de main-chanshe, and shcrap'd up de pelf.

And ruin'd von half of ma neighboursh.
If any von cash on goot bondsh vould obtain.

Very shoon ready for him de loan ish ;
And about shent per shent ish de int'resht I gain.

And dat vay I finger de monish.

To part vit ma monish I alvaysh vash loth ;

For ma table no daintiesh I dish up :
I dine on two eggsh, and I shup on de broth.

But I feasht vonsh a veek like a bishop !
Ev'ry Shatukday night, on a grishkin of pork

I regale bote mashelf and ma cronieshj
And I play on de grishkin a goot knife and fork.

Dough dat runsh avay vit de monish I



136 LEVI MOSES.

To de presheptsh ma fader inshtill'd in ma mind

I have ever been conshtant and shteady :
To learning or pleasure I ne'er vash inclin'd.

For neider vould bring in de ready.
And into ma pocketsh de monish to bring

Ma perpetual shtudy alone ish_,
For de monish indeed ish a very goot ting.

Oh;, a very goot ting ish de monish !



SLENDER'S LOVE-ELEGY.



Come, Polyhymnia, heav'nly maid!
Oh deign an humble bard to aid.
Whose heart in tenfold chains is laid,

In Cuvid's cage:
To Anna's name I strike the string;
Thence all my pains and pleasures sprin<
Yes, I aspire thy praise to sing.

Oh sweet Anne Page!



138 slender's love-elegy.

The lustre of thy soft blue eyes.
Thy lip that with the coral vies,
IVIight bid love's flames tlie breast surprise

Of stoic sage :
And cold indeed his heart must be.
Who could thy matchless features see.
And not at once exclaim, with me.

Oh sweet Anne Page!

Wealth, pow'r, and splendor, I disown :
To them no real joys are known :
Thy unaffected charms alone

My heart engage :
Thou canst alone my bosom fire.
Thou canst alone my muse inspire.
To thee alone I tune the lyre.

Oh swelt Anne Page!



slender's love-elegy. 139

Against my passion's fond appeal
Should' st thou thy gentle bosom steel.
What pow'r tlie pangs I then should feel

Could e'er assuage ?
To woods, to mountains would I fly ;
Thy dear lov'd name unceasing sigh.
Till thousand echoes should reply :

Oh sweet Anne Page!

I cannot boast the art sublime.
Like some great poets of the time.
To sing, in lofty-sounding rhyme.

Of amorous rage :
But LOVE has taught me to complain j
Love has inspir'd this humble strain j
Then let me not still sigh in vain.

Oh sweet Anne Page!



A FRAGMENT.

Nay, deem me not insensible^ Cesario,

To female charms^ nor think this heart of mine

Is cas'd in adamant j because, forsooth,

I cannot ogle, and hyperbolise.

And whisper tender nothings in tlie ear

Of ev'iy would-be beauty, holding out

The bright but treach'rous flame of flattery.

To watch the she-moths of a drawing-room

Sport round the beam, and burn their pretty wings.

Ere conscious of their danger : yet, believe me,

I love a maid whose untranscended form

Is yet less lovely than her spotless mind.



A FRAGMENT. 14l

With modest frankness^ unaffected genius,
Unchang'd good-humour, beauty void of art.
And polish'd wit that seeks not to offend.
And winning smiles that seek not to betray.
She charms the sight, and fascinates the soul.
Where dwells tliis matchless nymph? alas, Cesario !
'Tis but a sickly creature of my fancy,
Unparallell'd in nature.



s

THE END.



T. Bensley, Printer,
3olt Court, Fleet Street, London.



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Online LibraryThomas Love PeacockPalmyra, and other poems → online text (page 4 of 4)