Ah, where was thy sacred retreat? Maria! ah, where hast thou been, With thy two little wandering Feet, Far away from all peace and pea-green! Far away from Fitzhardinge the bold, Far away from himself and his lot! I envy the place thou hast stroll’d, If a stroller thou art--which thou’rt not! Sterne met thee, poor wandering thing, Methinks, at the close of the day-- When thy Billy had just slipp’d his string, And thy little dog quite gone astray-- He bade thee to sorrow no more-- He wish’d thee to lull thy distress In his bosom--he couldn’t do more, And a Christian could hardly do less! Ah, me! for thy small plaintive pipe I fear we must look at thine eye-- That eye--forced so often to wipe That the handkerchief never got dry! Oh sure ’tis a barbarous deed To give pain to the feminine mind-- But the wooer that left thee to bleed Was a creature more killing than kind! The man that could tread on a worm Is a brute--and inhuman to boot; But he merits a much harsher term That can wantonly tread on a Foote! Soft mercy and gentleness blend To make up a Quaker--but he That spurn’d thee could scarce be a _Friend_, Though he dealt in that Thou-ing of thee! They that loved thee, Maria, have flown! The friends of the midsummer hour! But those friends now in anguish atone, And mourn o’er thy desolate bow’r. Friend Hayne, the Green Man, is quite out, Yea, utterly out of his bias; And the faithful Fitzhardinge, no doubt, Is counting his Ave Marias! Ah, where wast thou driven away To feast on thy desolate woe? We have witness’d thy weeping in play, But none saw the earnest tears flow-- Perchance thou wert truly forlorn,-- Though none but the fairies could mark Where they hung upon some Berkeley thorn, Or the thistle in Burderop Park! Ah, perhaps, when old age’s white snow Has silver’d the crown of Hayne’s nob-- For even the greenest will grow As hoary as “White-headed Bob--” He’ll wish, in the days of his prime, He had been rather kinder to one He hath left to the malice of Time-- A woman--so weak and undone! ODE TO R. W. ELLISTON, ESQ., THE GREAT LESSEE! “_Rover._ Do you know, you villain, that I am this moment the greatest man living?”--WILD OATS.