The Hasty-pudding: A Poem, in Three Cantos

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W. Storer, 1838 - Počet stran: 12
 

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Strana 5 - With sovereign scorn I treat the vulgar jest, Nor fear to share thy bounties with the beast. What though the generous cow gives me to quaff The milk nutritious ; am I then a calf? Or can the genius of the noisy swine, Though nursed on pudding, thence lay claim to mine ? Sure the sweet song I fashion to thy praise, Runs more melodious than the notes they raise.
Strana 2 - Shall cool and temper thy superior heat, And save the pains of blowing while I eat. Oh! could the smooth, the emblematic song Flow like thy genial juices o'er my tongue, Could those mild morsels in my numbers chime, And, as they roll in substance, roll in rhyme, No more thy awkward, unpoetic...
Strana 1 - Bear death to kings, and freedom to the world, I sing not you. A softer theme I choose, A virgin theme, unconscious of the Muse, But fruitful, rich, well suited to inspire The purest frenzy of poetic fire.
Strana 10 - With each smut ear he smuts the luckless swains ; But when to some sweet maid a prize is cast, Red as her lips and taper as her waist, She walks the round and culls one favoured beau, Who leaps the luscious tribute to bestow.
Strana 5 - My song, resounding in its grateful glee, No merit claims, I praise myself in thee. My father loved thee through his length of days, For thee his fields were shaded o'er with maize ; From thee what health, what vigor he possessed Ten sturdy freemen from his loins attest ; Thy constellation ruled my natal morn, And all my bones were made of Indian corn.
Strana 7 - Slow springs the blade, while checked by chilling rains, Ere yet the sun the seat of Cancer gains ; But when his fiercest fires emblaze the land, Then start the juices, then the roots expand ; Then, like a column of Corinthian...
Strana 1 - Who hurl your thunders round the epic field ; Nor ye who strain your midnight throats to sing Joys that the vineyard and the still-house bring; Or on some distant fair your notes employ, And speak of raptures that you ne'er enjoy. I sing the sweets I know, the charms I feel, My morning incense, and my evening meal, The sweets of Hasty Pudding.
Strana 4 - In haste the boiling caldron, o'er the blaze, Receives and cooks the ready powder'd maize ; In haste 'tis served, and then in equal haste, With cooling milk, we make the sweet repast.
Strana 7 - The insidious worm, the all-devouring crow. A little ashes, sprinkled round the spire, Soon steep'd in rain, will bid the worm retire ; The feather' d robber with his hungry maw Swift flies the field before your man of straw, A frightful image, such as school-boys bring, When met to burn the pope or hang the king. Thrice in the season, through each verdant row "° Wield the strong...
Strana 2 - Through wrecks of time, thy lineage and thy race ; Declare what lovely squaw, in days of yore, (Ere great Columbus sought thy native shore,) First gave thee to the world ; her works of fame Have lived indeed, but lived without a name.

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