The Works of Charles and Mary Lamb
Chapter 207 : For it _Wisdom_ means, which pa.s.ses Rubies, pearls, or golden ma.s.ses.Ever try that

For it _Wisdom_ means, which pa.s.ses Rubies, pearls, or golden ma.s.ses.

Ever try that Name to merit; Never quit what you inherit, Duly from your Father's spirit.

TO R[OTHA] Q[UILLINAN]

_Acrostic_

ROTHA, how in numbers light, Ought I to express thee?

Take my meaning in its flight-- Haste imports not always slight-- And believe, I bless thee.

TO S[ARAH] L[OCKE]

_Acrostic_

Shall I praise a face unseen, And extol a fancied mien, Rave on visionary charm, And from shadows take alarm?

Hatred hates _without a cause;_

Love may love, with more applause, Or, without a reason given, Charmed be with unknown Heaven.

Keep the secrets, though, unmocked, Ever in your bosom _Locke'd_.

TO M[ARY] L[OCKE]

_Acrostic_

Must I write with pen unwilling And describe those graces killing Rightly, which I never saw?

Yes--it is the Alb.u.m's law.

Let me then Invention strain On your excelling charms to feign-- Cold is Fiction? I _believe_ it Kindly, as I did receive it, Even as J.F.'s tongue did weave it.

AN ACROSTIC AGAINST ACROSTICS

[_To Edward Hogg_]

Envy not the wretched Poet Doomed to pen these teasing strains, Wit so cramped, ah, who can show it, Are the trifles worth the pains.

Rhyme compared with this were easy, Double Rhymes may not displease ye.

Homer, Horace sly and caustic, Owed no fame to vile acrostic.

G's, I am sure, the Readers choked with, Good men's names must not be joked with.

ON BEING ASKED TO WRITE IN MISS WESTWOOD'S ALb.u.m

My feeble Muse, that fain her best wou'd Write, at command of Frances Westwood, But feels her wits not in their best mood, Fell lately on some idle fancies, As she's much given to romances, About this self-same style as Frances; Which seems to be a name in common Attributed to man or woman.

She thence contrived this flattering moral, With which she hopes no soul will quarrel, That she, whom this twin t.i.tle decks, Combines what's good in either s.e.x; Unites--how very rare the case is!-- Masculine sense to female graces; And, quitting not her proper rank, Is both in one--f.a.n.n.y, and frank.

12_th October_, 1827.

[IN MISS WESTWOOD'S ALb.u.m]

_By Mary Lamb_

Small beauty to your Book my lines can lend, Yet you shall have the best I can, sweet friend, To serve for poor memorials 'gainst the day That calls you from your Parent-roof away, From the mild offices of Filial life To the more serious duties of a Wife.

The World is opening to you--may you rest With all your prospects realised, and blest!-- I, with the Elder Couple left behind, On evenings chatting, oft shall call to mind Those spirits of Youth, which Age so ill can miss, And, wanting you, half grudge your S--n's bliss; Till mirthful malice tempts us to exclaim 'Gainst the dear Thief, who robb'd you of your _Name_.

ENFIELD CHASE, 17_th May_, 1828.

UN SOLITAIRE

_A Drawing by E.I._ [_Emma Isola_]

[_To Sarah Lachlan_]

Solitary man, around thee Are the mountains: Peace hath found thee Resting by that rippling tide; All vain toys of life expelling, Hermit-like, thou find'st a dwelling, Lost 'mid foliage stretching wide.

Angels here alone may find thee, Contemplation fast may bind thee.

Holier spot, or more fantastic, Livelier scene of deep seclusion, Armed by Nature 'gainst intrusion, Never graced a seat Monastic.

TO S[ARAH] T[HOMAS]

_An Acrostic_

Sarah, blest wife of "Terah's faithful Son,"

After a race of years with goodness run, Regardless heard the promised miracle, And mocked the blessing as impossible.

How weak is Faith!--even He, the most sincere,

Thomas, to his meek Master not least dear, Holy, and blameless, yet refused a.s.sent Of full belief, until he could content Mere human senses. In your piety, As you are _one_ in _name_, industriously So copy them: but _shun_ their weak part--_Incredulity_.