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WILL WATERPROOF'S LYRICAL MONOLOGUE.
MADE AT THE COCK.
O PLUMP head-waiter at The Cock,
To which I most resort,
the time ? 'Tis five o'clock,
You set before chance-comers,
On Lusitanian summers.
No vain libation to the Muse,
she still be kind,
Her influence on the mind,
WILL WATERPROOF'S LYRICAL MONOLOGU E.
To make me write my random rhymes,
Ere they be half-forgotten; Nor add and alter, many times,
Till all be ripe and rotten.
I pledge her, and she comes and dips
Her laurel in the wine,
These favour'd lips of mine ;
New lifeblood warm the bosom,
To full and kindly blossom.
I pledge her silent at the board :
Her gradual fingers steal
Of all I felt and feel.
Old wishes, ghosts of broken plans,
And phantom hopes assemble ;
Begins to move and tremble.
Thro' many an hour of summer suns,
By many pleasant ways,
The shadow of my days :
The gas-light wavers dimmer ;
My college friendships glimmer.
sense, Unboding critic-pen, Or that eternal want of
pence, Which vexes public men, Who hold their hands to all, and cry
For that which all deny themWho sweep the crossings, wet or dry,
And all the world go by them.
Ah yet, though all the world forsake,
Though fortune clip my wings, I will not cramp my heart, nor take
Half-views of men and things.
Let Whig and Tory stir their blood;
There must be stormy weather ; But for some true result of good
All parties work together.
Let there be thistles, there are grapes ;
If old things, there are new ;
Yet glimpses of the true.
We lack not rhymes and reasons,
We circle with the seasons.
This earth is rich in man and maid ;
With fair horizons bound;
This whole wide earth, of light and shade
Comes out, a perfect round. High over roaring Temple-bar,
And, set in Heaven's third story, I look at all things as they are,
But thro' a kind of glory.
Head-waiter, honour'd by the guest
Half-mused, or reeling-ripe,
That ever came from pipe.
My nerves have dealt with stiffer.
Or do my peptics differ ?
For since I came to live and learn,
No pint of white or red
This wheel within my head,
Unsubject to confusion, Though soak’d and saturate, out and out,
Thro' every convolution.
For I am of a numerous house,
With many kinsmen gay,
As who shall say me nay: