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　　TO A YOUNG FRIEND

　　On Her Twenty-First Birth-Day

　　Crown me a cheerful goblet, while I pray

　　A blessing on thy years, young Isola;

　　Young, but no more a child. How swift have flown

　　To me thy girlish times, a woman grown

　　Beneath my heedless eyes! in vain I rack

　　My fancy to believe the almanac,

　　That speaks thee Twenty-One. Thou should'st have still

　　Remain'd a child, and at thy sovereign will

　　Gambol'd about our house, as in times past.

　　Ungrateful Emma, to grow up so fast,

　　Hastening to leave thy friends!—for which intent,

　　Fond Runagate, be this thy punishment.

　　After some thirty years, spent in such bliss

　　As this earth can afford, where still we miss

　　Something of joy entire, may'st thou grow old

　　As we whom thou hast left! That wish was cold.

　　O far more ag'd and wrinkled, till folks say,

　　Looking upon thee reverend in decay,

　　"This Dame for length of days, and virtues rare,

　　With her respected Grandsire may compare."—

　　Grandchild of that respected Isola,

　　Thou should'st have had about thee on this day

　　Kind looks of Parents, to congratulate

　　Their Pride grown up to woman's grave estate.

　　But they have died, and left thee, to advance

　　Thy fortunes how thou may'st, and owe to chance

　　The friends which Nature grudg'd. And thou wilt find,

　　Or make such, Emma, if I am not blind

　　To thee and thy deservings. That last strain

　　Had too much sorrow in it. Fill again

　　Another cheerful goblet, while I say

　　"Health, and twice health, to our lost Isola."

　　TO THE SAME

　　External gifts of fortune, or of face,

　　Maiden, in truth, thou hast not much to show;

　　Much fairer damsels have I known, and know,

　　And richer may be found in every place.

　　In thy mind seek thy beauty, and thy wealth.

　　Sincereness lodgeth there, the soul's best health.

　　O guard that treasure above gold or pearl,

　　Laid up secure from moths and worldly stealth—

　　And take my benison, plain-hearted girl.

　　SONNETS

　　HARMONY IN UNLIKENESS

　　By Enfield lanes, and Winchmore's verdant hill,

　　Two lovely damsels cheer my lonely walk:

　　The fair Maria, as a vestal, still;

　　And Emma brown, exuberant in talk.

　　With soft and Lady speech the first applies

　　The mild correctives that to grace belong

　　To her redundant friend, who her defies

　　With jest, and mad discourse, and bursts of song.

　　O differing Pair, yet sweetly thus agreeing,

　　What music from your happy discord rises,

　　While your companion hearing each, and seeing,

　　Nor this, nor that, but both together, prizes;

　　This lesson teaching, which our souls may strike,

　　That harmonies may be in things unlike! The Works of Charles and Mary Lamb — Volume 4