She'll watch to the southward;--perhaps she will sigh, That the way is so long, and the Mountains so high; Perhaps some huge Rock in the dusk she may see, And will say in her fondness, 'That surely is he!' Good Wife, you're deceiv'd; I'm still far from my home; Go, sleep, my dear Maggy,--to-morrow I'll come. A WORD TO TWO YOUNG LADIES. WHEN tender Rose-trees first receive On half-expanded Leaves, the Shower; Hope's gayest pictures we believe, And anxious watch each coining flower. Then, if beneath the genial Sun That spreads abroad the full-blown May, Two infant Stems the rest out-run, Their buds the first to meet the day, With joy their op'ning tints we view, While morning's precious moments fly: My pretty Maids, 'tis thus with _you_; The fond admiring gazer, _I_. Preserve, sweet Buds, where'er you be; The richest gem that decks a Wife; The charm of _female modesty:_ And let sweet Music give it life. Still may the favouring Muse be found: Still circumspect the paths ye tread: Plant moral truths in Fancy's ground; And meet old Age without a dread. Yet, ere that comes, while yet ye quaff The cup of Health without a pain, I'll shake my grey hairs when you laugh, And, when you sing, be young again. Both the young Ladies had addressed to me a few complimentary lines, (and I am sorry that those of the elder sister were never in my possession;) in return for which I sent the above. It was received on the day on which the younger completed her ninth year. Surely it cannot be ascribed to vanity, if, in gratitude to a most amiable family, I here preserve verbatim an effort of a child nine years old. I hare the more pleasure in doing it, because _I know_ them to be her own. R.B. "Accept, dear Bard, the Muse's genuine thought, And take not ill the tribute of my heart:-- For thee the laureat wreath of praise I'll bind, None that have read thy commendable mind Can let it pass unnotic'd--nor can I-- For by thy lays I know thy sympathy." F.P. ON HEARING THE TRANSLATION OF PART OF THE FARMER'S BOY INTO LATIN _By the Rev. Mr. C--;_ Hey, Giles! in what new garb art dresst? For Lads like you methinks a bold one; I'm glad to see thee so caresst; But, hark ye!--don't despise your old one. Thou'rt not the first by many, a Boy Who've found abroad good friends to own 'em; Then, in such Coats have shown their joy, E'en their _own Fathers_ have not known 'em. [Illustration] NANCY A Song. You ask me, dear Nancy, what makes me presume That you cherish a secret affection for me? When we see the Flow'rs bud, don't we look for the Bloom? Then, sweetest, attend, while I answer to thee. When we Young Men with pastimes the Twilight beguile, I watch your plump cheek till it dimples with joy: And observe, that whatever occasions the smile, You give me a glance; but provokingly coy.