Go, therefore, thou! thy betters went Hours, when the Poet's words and looks So mix forever with the past, Like all good things on earth! For should I prize thee, couldst thou last, At half thy real worth? I hold it good, good things should pass : With time I will not quarrel: It is but yonder empty glass Head-waiter of the chop-house here, To which I most resort, I too must part: I hold thee dear For this, thou shalt from all things such And, wheresoe'er thou move, good luck Shall fling her old shoe after. But thou wilt never move from hence, Thy latter days increased with pence We fret, we fume, would shift our skins, Would quarrel with our lot; Thy care is, under polished tins, To serve the hot-and-hot; To come and go, and come again, And watched by silent gentlemen, Live long, ere from thy topmost head Long, ere the hateful crow shall tread The corners of thine eyes; Live long, nor feel in head or chest Till mellow Death, like some late guest, But when he calls, and thou shalt cease And, laying down an unctuous lease No carved cross-bones, the types of Death, But carved cross-pipes, and, underneath, A pint-pot, neatly graven. LADY CLARE. LORD RONALD courted Lady Clare, "He does not love me for my birth, In there came old Alice the nurse, Said, "Who was this that went from thee?" "It was my cousin," said Lady Clare, "To-morrow he weds with me." "O God be thanked!" said Alice the nurse, "That all comes round so just and fair: Lord Ronald is heir of all your lands, "Are ye out of your mind, my nurse, my nurse?" Said Lady Clare, "that ye speak so wild?" "As God's above," said Alice the nurse, "I speak the truth: you are my child. "The old Earl's daughter died at my breast, "Falsely, falsely have ye done, O mother," she said, "if this be true, To keep the best man under the sun "Nay now, my child," said Alice the nurse, "But keep the secret for your life, And all you have will be Lord Ronald's, you are man and wife." When "If I'm a beggar born," she said, |