The same little volume contains an “Ode in imitation of Gray,” in which the following lines occur relating to the purchase of a lady’s hat:―― The milliner officious pours Of hats and caps her ready stores, The unbought elegance of spring; Some wide, disclose the full round face, Some shadowy, lend a modest grace And stretch their sheltering wing. Here early blooms the summer rose; Here ribbons wreathe fantastic bows; Here plays gay plumage of a thousand dyes―― Visions of beauty, spare my aching eyes! Ye cumbrous fashions, crowd not on my head! Mine be the chip of purest white, Swan-like, and as her feathers light When on the still wave spread; And let it wear the graceful dress Of unadornèd simpleness. Ah! frugal wish; ah! pleasing thought; Ah! hope indulged in vain; Of modest fancy cheaply bought, A stranger yet to Payne.[78] With undissembled grief I tell,―― For sorrow never comes too late,―― The simplest bonnet in Pall Mall Is sold for £1 8s. To Calculation’s sober view, That searches ev’ry plan, Who keep the old, or buy the new, Shall end where they began. Alike the shabby and the gay, Must meet the sun’s meridian ray; The air, the dust, the damp. This, shall the sudden shower despoil; That, slow decay by gradual soil; Those, envious boxes cramp. Who will, their squandered gold may pay; Who will, our taste deride; We’ll scorn the fashion of the day With Philosophic pride. Methinks we thus, in accents low, Might Sydney Smith address, “Poor moralist! and what art thou, Who never spoke of dress?” “Thy mental hero never hung Suspended on a tailor’s tongue, In agonising doubt; Thy tale no flutt’ring female show’d, Who languished for the newest mode, Yet dar’d to live without.” There is also a serious imitation of Cowper’s “Alexander Selkirk;” it is entitled: LINES _Supposed to have been written by Robinson Crusoe on the acquisition of Friday._ I have stood on the brink of the grave: Savage feet have imprinted the sand; But an arm that was mighty to save, Has saved in this terrible land. * * * * * ――――:o:―――― RALPH RATTAT. _A Wordsworthian Warble._ [Lady John Manners thinks it would be so nice to offer the postmen temperance gifts at Christmas――a cup of “tea, coffee, or cocoa,” for instance, and something to eat.] Oft had I heard of Ralph Rattat―― His name is known to most men―― And t’other day it was my luck To meet that pearl of postmen. Upon a doorstep Ralph was stretched, The while he let off stout cries, And silently a crowd stood by And listened to his outcries. Epistles round about his frame Formed quite a pretty border; Tossed here and there the missives lay In most admired disorder.