CITO PEDE PRETERIT ÆTAS.
39
FYTTE VII.
CITO PEDE PRETERIT ETAS.
[A PHILOSOPHICAL DISSERTATION.]
Gillian's dead, God rest her bier-
How I loved her many years syne;
Marion's married, but I sit here
Alive and merry at three-score year,
Dipping my nose in Gascoigne wine.
Wamba's song.—Thackery.
How I loved her many years syne;
Marion's married, but I sit here
Alive and merry at three-score year,
Dipping my nose in Gascoigne wine.
Wamba's song.—Thackery.
A mellower light doth Sol afford,
His meridian glare has pass'd,
And the trees on the broad and sloping sward
Their length'ning shadows cast,
“Time flies.” The current will be no joke,
If swollen by recent rain,
To cross in the dark, so I'll have a smoke,
And then I'll be off again.
His meridian glare has pass'd,
And the trees on the broad and sloping sward
Their length'ning shadows cast,
“Time flies.” The current will be no joke,
If swollen by recent rain,
To cross in the dark, so I'll have a smoke,
And then I'll be off again.
