With these fair dames, and heroes round, I call my garret classic ground. For though confined, 't will well contain The ideal flights of Madam Brain. No dungeon's walls, no cell confined Can cramp the energies of mind! Thus, though my heart may seem so small, I've friends, and 't will contain them all; And should it e'er become so cold That these it will no longer hold, No more may Heaven her blessings give, I shall not then be fit to live. DESCRIPTION OF A SUMMER'S EVE. Down the sultry arc of day The burning wheels have urged their way; And eve along the western skies Sheds her intermingling dyes. Down the deep, the miry lane, Creaking comes the empty wain, And driver on the shaft-horse sits, Whistling now and then by fits: And oft, with his accustom'd call, Urging on the sluggish Ball. The barn is still, the master's gone, And thresher puts his jacket on, While Dick, upon the ladder tall, Nails the dead kite to the wall. Here comes shepherd Jack at last, He has penn'd the sheepcote fast, For 't was but two nights before, A lamb was eaten on the moor: His empty wallet Rover carries, Nor for Jack, when near home, tarries. With lolling tongue he runs to try If the horse-trough be not dry. The milk is settled in the pans, And supper messes in the cans; In the hovel carts are wheel'd, And both the colts are drove a-field; The horses are all bedded up, And the ewe is with the tup. The snare for Mister Fox is set, The leaven laid, the thatching wet, And Bess has slink'd away to talk With Roger in the holly walk. Now, on the settle all, but Bess, Are set to eat their supper mess; And little Tom and roguish Kate Are swinging on the meadow gate. Now they chat of various things, Of taxes, ministers, and kings, Or else tell all the village news, How madam did the squire refuse; How parson on his tithes was bent, And landlord oft distrain'd for rent. Thus do they talk, till in the sky The pale-eyed moon is mounted high, And from the alehouse drunken Ned Had reel'd--then hasten all to bed. The mistress sees that lazy Kate The happing coal on kitchen grate Has laid--while master goes throughout, Sees shutters fast, the mastiff out, The candles safe, the hearths all clear, And nought from thieves or fire to fear; Then both to bed together creep, And join the general troop of sleep. LINES, Written impromptu, on reading the following passage in Mr. Capel Lofft's beautiful and interesting Preface to Nathaniel Bloomfield's Poems, just published:--"It has a mixture of the sportive, which deepens the impression of its melancholy close. I could have wished, as I have said in a short note, the conclusion had been otherwise. The sours of life less offend my taste than its sweets delight it." Go to the raging sea, and say, "Be still!" Bid the wild lawless winds obey thy will; Preach to the storm, and reason with Despair, But tell not Misery's son that life is fair.