POETRY. 



THE BELLMAN'S VERSES. 

 Addressed to Lady Melbourne, Brocket Hall, Christmas, 1800. 



BY SIR W. YOUNG, BART. 



(Noicjirst published.) 



WIDE waves the oak its torn and shattered head, 

 Torn by the gale ; and far the fragments spread ; 

 The haiUstorm beats upon the swollen lake, 

 And its surrounding rocks seem all to shake! 



Beneath that nodding mountain's chalky scoop, 

 Colin andPhillis with their gipsey troop 

 In the lone caverns, on a heap of reeds 

 Listen, as blast to blast in storm succeeds ; 

 And as each chilling gust the ralley sweeps, 

 Phillis to Colin only closer creeps. 

 The batt'ling hurricane's impetuous roar, 

 Seems but to whisper, " love your Philis more." 



Thus, in the dreary chill of winter's gloom, 

 When, (save in Melbourne's cheek) no roses bloom; 

 The frost, which binds the stream and blasts the tree, 

 Serves but to melt the mind to social glee ; 

 Warm grows the heart, as colder grows the day, 

 And Christmas boasts a smile, as sweet as May. 



Spring has its roses and its lovely green ; 

 Autumn its crops, which rural damsels glean; 

 And Christmas, too, its season hath of wealth, 

 Reaped with the work of joy, and glow of health. 

 When the hall fire and the lustres' blaze, 

 Rival the light and heat of summer's days ; 

 And 'midst the dance and song, and jovial din; 

 " The sweet affections," get their harvest in. 



Life, too, its seasons hath ; its spring and fall, 

 Its buds, its glowing bloom, its changes all. 

 And oh ! whene'er its cold and wintry snows 

 Shower on thy head, and furrow o'er thy brows, 

 May peace and virtue act in ages spite. 

 And give a cheerful heat, and cheerful light ; 

 And leave — when chills and frosts of age set in, — 

 A mind, to warm the mansion wall within. 



TO 



