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The Every-day Book and Table Book. v. 3 (of 3): Everlasting Calerdar of Popular Amusements, Sports, Pastimes, Ceremonies, Manners, Customs and Events, Incident to Each of the Three Hundred and Sixty-five Days, in past and Present Times; Forming a Complete History of the Year, Month, and Seasons, and a Perpetual Key to the Almanac — John Shaqi

History

The Every-day Book and Table Book. v. 3 (of 3): Everlasting Calerdar of Popular Amusements, Sports, Pastimes, Ceremonies, Manners, Customs and Events, Incident to Each of the Three Hundred and Sixty-five Days, in past and Present Times; Forming a Complete History of the Year, Month, and Seasons, and a Perpetual Key to the Almanac

Name: The Every-day Book and Table Book. v. 3 (of 3): Everlasting Calerdar of Popular Amusements, Sports, Pastimes, Ceremonies, Manners, Customs and Events, Incident to Each of the Three Hundred and Sixty-five Days, in past and Present Times; Forming a Complete History of the Year, Month, and Seasons, and a Perpetual Key to the Almanac
Author: Hone, William

Hone, William

Days; Great Britain -- Social life and customs

Mrs. Tighe died in 1810. Mr. Dyce says, “Of this highly-gifted
Irishwoman, I have not met with any poetical account; but I learn, from
the notes to her poems, that she was the daughter of the Rev. William
Blachford, and that she died in her thirty-seventh year. In the _Psyche_
of Mrs. Tighe are several pictures, conceived in the true spirit of
poetry; while over the whole composition is spread the richest glow of
purified passion.” Besides specimens from that delightful poem, Mr. Dyce
extracts

_The Lily_.

    How wither’d, perish’d seems the form
      Of yon obscure unsightly root!
    Yet from the blight of wintry storm,
      It hides secure the precious fruit.

    The careless eye can find no grace,
      No beauty in the scaly folds,
    Nor see within the dark embrace
      What latent loveliness it holds.

    Yet in that bulb, those sapless scales,
      The lily wraps her silver vest,
    Till vernal suns and vernal gales
      Shall kiss once more her fragrant breast.

    Yes, hide beneath the mouldering heap
      The undelighting slighted thing;
    There in the cold earth buried deep,
      In silence let it wait the Spring.

    Oh! many a stormy night shall close
      In gloom upon the barren earth,
    While still, in undisturb’d repose,
      Uninjur’d lies the future birth;

    And Ignorance, with sceptic eye,
      Hope’s patient smile shall wondering view;
    Or mock her fond credulity,
      As her soft tears the spot bedew.

    Sweet smile of hope, delicious tear!
      The sun, the shower indeed shall come;
    The promis’d verdant shoot appear.
      And nature bid her blossoms bloom.

    And thou, O virgin Queen of Spring!
      Shalt, from thy dark and lowly bed,
    Bursting thy green sheath’d silken string,
      Unveil thy charms, and perfume shed;

    Unfold thy robes of purest white,
      Unsullied from their darksome grave,
    And thy soft petals’ silvery light
      In the mild breeze unfetter’d wave.

    So Faith shall seek the lowly dust
      Where humble Sorrow loves to lie,
    And bid her thus her hopes intrust,
      And watch with patient, cheerful eye;

    And bear the long, cold wintry night,
      And bear her own degraded doom,
    And wait till Heaven’s reviving light,
      Eternal Spring! shall burst the gloom.

Every one is acquainted with the beautiful ballad which is the subject
of the following notice; yet the succinct history, and the present
accurate text, may justify the insertion of both.

_Lady Anne Barnard._

Born ---- died 1825.

  Sister of the late Earl of Balcarras, and wife of Sir Andrew Barnard,
  wrote the charming song of _Auld Robin Gray_.

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