Page:The Leadbeater Papers (1862) Vol 1.djvu/36
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22
THE ANNALS OF BALITORE.
[1766.
Some trace the map with curious eye,
And point where different kingdoms lie;
Here those self-taught the pencil guide,
And imitate the garden's pride,
While these, with more exalted views,
Record the labours of the Muse.
Say why each eye so bright appears,
Why every cheek contentment wears?
See where divine Hygeia stands,
And scatters blessings from her hands
She o'er the cheek the roses spread,
And tinged the lip with brighter red,
Kindled the lightening of the eye,
And taught the nimble feet to fly.
Not all the jewels that adorn
The crown by Britain's monarch worn
Can equal or compare at all
With those that grace my father's hall.
Scorn not these scenes which simply please;
Great Burke once led a life like these;
Though Britain's cause he now maintains,
He sported on these verdant plains;
Though now his numbers swell so strong,
Here tuned his Muse her infant song.
Yet even these have ills to bear;
No state on earth is free from care.
Perhaps in playful transport tost
The ball or shuttlecock is lost;
The pigeons wander, linnet dies,
And sorrow dims the brightest eyes;
Or, when the kite sublimely sails,
Upborne by all the flying gales,
The cord is broken, down she flies,
And distant fields receive the prize.
And point where different kingdoms lie;
Here those self-taught the pencil guide,
And imitate the garden's pride,
While these, with more exalted views,
Record the labours of the Muse.
Say why each eye so bright appears,
Why every cheek contentment wears?
See where divine Hygeia stands,
And scatters blessings from her hands
She o'er the cheek the roses spread,
And tinged the lip with brighter red,
Kindled the lightening of the eye,
And taught the nimble feet to fly.
Not all the jewels that adorn
The crown by Britain's monarch worn
Can equal or compare at all
With those that grace my father's hall.
Scorn not these scenes which simply please;
Great Burke once led a life like these;
Though Britain's cause he now maintains,
He sported on these verdant plains;
Though now his numbers swell so strong,
Here tuned his Muse her infant song.
Yet even these have ills to bear;
No state on earth is free from care.
Perhaps in playful transport tost
The ball or shuttlecock is lost;
The pigeons wander, linnet dies,
And sorrow dims the brightest eyes;
Or, when the kite sublimely sails,
Upborne by all the flying gales,
The cord is broken, down she flies,
And distant fields receive the prize.