THE SLEIGH RIDE. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, SHAKSPEARE. Oh! who would slumber, this most glorious night, Then whirl exulting o'er the snow clad plain; Swift to their destined goal, - while beauty's cheek Is mantling fresh, with pleasure's ruddy streak, Heightened, by winter's kiss, to loveliest glow. THE DANCE. His brow belied him if his soul was sad. BYRON. And safe arrived, what joy awaits us now, Hand linked in hand. Flushed cheek and glowing brow, Tell soon what transports such brief hours allow To youthful hearts; nor pause nor rest is found, While swift, to care unknown, Chased by the laughing graces. the moments fly, Here, love's vow, Low whispered, fires the cheek; and there the eye Away, thou greybeard Wisdom! go Ay, play the fool, in fitting time, Despite what sapless dotards say: Our pulse beats high, in merry chime, Our blood runs quick, our thoughts are gay, Our study now is sport and play : Then go, good grandsire! haste along, We would not that our mad pranks here, Should grieve thee, Wisdom! or offend; We fain would shun thy frown austere ; Then go in peace, right reverend friend! And should we need, we yet may send; For well we know, if aid we lack, Experience soon brings Wisdom back. Well-slow, but sure he's out of sight – Good riddance to his surly lower ! He'll not return again, to night, To cloud with gloom our festive hour : And gay Hope weave a garland fair, Come, broad faced Humour, lively, free, The jovial throng of Comus' train, Bright Wit, gay Sport, rich Fancy's vein, — Ye all are welcome, e'en the least, When Pleasure spreads for Youth her feast. But banish hence those foes of life, Good Cheer shall at our board preside, Should Wisdom, with a Tutor's face, We'll e'en consent to give him place : And, sooth to say, since we're together, There is a wild and heartless mirth, It doth not spring from heaven or earth, The forced contempt that curls the lip, Would show a heart by misery torn : False pleasure's cup, with hearts forlorn. And I have seen light pleasure fling While youth on pleasure's couch reclined, E'en there, his inmost soul might find. The weal or wo, wherein we dwell, And forms within the heaven or hell, That makes, or mars, our changeful state: Virtue alone can ope the gate Of lasting joy, can grief repel, Or meet, unmoved, the storms of fate. EXCITEMENT. Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds. SHAKSPEARE. If thou, in body to the earth allied, Would'st in base joys thy sordid pleasures find, Go, wallow in the sty; and quench the pride Of lofty thought, thy high aspiring mind, |