'Then bring me nature, bring me sense,
'And joy shall be your recompense:
'On Old May-day I hope to see
'All happy:--leave the rest to me.
'A general feast shall cheer us all
'Upon the lawn that fronts the hall,
'With tents for shelter, laurel boughs
'And wreaths of every flower that blows.
'The months are wending fast away;
'Farewell,--remember Old May-day.'"
Surprise, and mirth, and gratitude, and jeers,
The clown's broad wonder, th' enthusiast's tears,
Fresh gleams of comfort on the brow of care,
The sectary's cold shrug, the miser's stare,
Were all excited, for the tidings flew
As quick as scandal the whole country through.
"Rent paid by rhymes at Oakly may be great,
"But rhymes for taxes would appal the state,"
Exclaim'd th' exciseman,--"and then tithes, alas!
"Why there, again, 'twill never come to pass."--
Thus all still ventured, as the whim inclined,
Remarks as various as the varying mind:
For here Sir Ambrose sent a challenge forth,
That claim'd a tribute due to sterling worth;
And all, whatever might their host regale,
Agreed to share the feast and drink his ale.
Now shot through many a heart a secret fire,
A new born spirit, an intense desire
For once to catch a spark of local fame,
And bear a poet's honourable name!
Already some aloft began to soar,
And some to think who never thought before;
But O, what numbers all their strength applied,
Then threw despairingly the task aside
With feign'd contempt, and vow'd they'd never tried.
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