3792. poetry. 179 
; But what’s thy life, O Hafez! say? 
A coin that will no value bear, 
Although by thee ’tis priz’d in vain, 
Not worthy to be thrown away f, 
At the rich banquet of thy fair, 
Where boundiefs love and pleasure reign ! 
a 
——S 
The beautiful little poem that follows, is copied from the Edinburgh Evening 
Courant of November 26, 1792. : 
A SONG FOR SEVENTY. 
I torp vou Mary, told you true, 
Ir love to favour had a claim, 
That all its withes warm’d my breast, 
And you were still the cons-ant theme 3 
I toid you, then, if mine you were, 
~The pride of rank you must forego, 
And all the pomp of drefs resign, 
For wealth 1 had not io bestow 3 
And, Mary, thou didst not reprove, 
But bade me hope, and bade me love. 
O! Mary, on thy lovely neck 
The diamond fhone with sweeten’d glance, 
And graceful was the s'lken robe 
That mark’d thy motions in the dance; 
And joyous were the pompous crowd, 
Thy birth entitled thee to join ; 
But pomp, and wealth, and friends, you left, 
To be acknowledg’d, Mary, mine 3 
Thou, lovely, didst my suit approve, 
And bade me hope, and bade me love. 
*Tis long now, Mary, since we met: 
Stiff are my joints, and hoar my hair ; 
Ev’n your cheek too the wrinkles mark, 
And yet, my love, you’re wondrous fair 5 
And were the wrinkles stronger still, 
While accents cheerful grac’d your tonguc, 
How could I but think on those smiles 
' And accents that adorn’d thee young 5 
When thou, love, didst my suit approve, 
And bade me hope, and bade me love ? 
t This alludes to the oriental custom of throwing away handfuls of a 
gmall coin, called, among other names, isar, to the populace, at public 
entertainments, and upon other oteasions of festivity, as marriage, pro~ 
cefsion, and the like ; the eager multitude catch the falling gift im 
cloths stretched on sticks for the purpose, 
7 
