As Pope who gathers mony to translate
With Gay the Shepheard Writer mett of late.
Says Pope, your Ecclogues wont come out wth speed
For Phillips to reprieve him Tonson feed.
Indeed the story may be true, says Gay,
For Your Subscriptions give him powr to pay.
Sunshine let it be or frost,
Storm or calm, as Thou shalt choose;
Though Thine every gift were lost,
Thee Thyself we could not lose.
Kiæk jeg vandrer Nattens Mulm imøde,
Hvor foran mig Livets Sol nedgaaer;
Thi bag Tidens Vinteraftenrøde
Smiler himmelsk Evighedens Vaar:
Hvad mig vredt nu truer i det Fierne,
Venlig da vil tindre — Nannas Stierne.
Naar nedad vore Dage rinde,
Blîr Mindet Haab, og Haabet Minde.
Klogskab, skaan en følsom Daare -
Skaan ham, for dit kolde Raad! -
Viisdom, røv mig ey min Taare! -
Haab, misund mig ey min Graad!
Af Recensent faar man Navnet nu,
naar man kan skrive: Dit Fæ!
Til Fejekost kan det Smaakrat due,
som ej har Marv til et Træ.
Ye heedless Fair, who trifle Life away,
Let either Brownlow set your Notions right:
Be, like the Daughter, innocently gay;
Or, like the Mother, prudent and polite.
I lay down in the empty street and parked
My feet against the gutter's curb while from
The building above a bunch of gawkers perched
Along its ledges urged me don't, don't jump.
Sun and wind and beat of sea,
Great lands stretching endlessly…
Where be bonds to bind the free?
All the world was made for me!
Propitious he is, upon whom Shabbir showers affection,
Rewarded are the high and the low, with compassion,
A pebble he can turn into a touchstone,
And speck of dust into balm and unction.
