MORNING.
MORNING.
Keen blows the blast, and eager is the air;
With flakes of feather'd snow the ground is spread :
To step, vilb winning j>ui:ea to early prayer,
A clay-cold vestal leaves her downy bed.
And here the reeling sons of Riot see,
After a night of senseless revelry.
Poor,—trembling,—old,—her suit the beggar piles;
But frozen chastity the little boon denies. E.
This withered representative of Miss Bridget
Allworthy, with a shivering foot-boy carrying her
prayer-book, never fails in her attendance at
morning service. She is a perfect, symbol of the
season.—
-----" Chaste as the isicle
" That's curdled by the frost from pyrest 9noiv,
" And hangs on Dlan's temple,"
she looks with scouling eye, and all the con-
scious pride of severe and stubborn virginity, on
the poor girls who are suffering the embraces of
two drunken beaux that have staggered out of Tom
King's Coffee-house. One of them, from the basket
upon her arm, I conjecture to be an orange girl:
she is not much displeased with the boisterous sa-
lute of her Hibernian lover. That the hero in a
laced hat is from the banks of the Shannon, may be
determined by his countenance. The neck of the
MORNING.
Keen blows the blast, and eager is the air;
With flakes of feather'd snow the ground is spread :
To step, vilb winning j>ui:ea to early prayer,
A clay-cold vestal leaves her downy bed.
And here the reeling sons of Riot see,
After a night of senseless revelry.
Poor,—trembling,—old,—her suit the beggar piles;
But frozen chastity the little boon denies. E.
This withered representative of Miss Bridget
Allworthy, with a shivering foot-boy carrying her
prayer-book, never fails in her attendance at
morning service. She is a perfect, symbol of the
season.—
-----" Chaste as the isicle
" That's curdled by the frost from pyrest 9noiv,
" And hangs on Dlan's temple,"
she looks with scouling eye, and all the con-
scious pride of severe and stubborn virginity, on
the poor girls who are suffering the embraces of
two drunken beaux that have staggered out of Tom
King's Coffee-house. One of them, from the basket
upon her arm, I conjecture to be an orange girl:
she is not much displeased with the boisterous sa-
lute of her Hibernian lover. That the hero in a
laced hat is from the banks of the Shannon, may be
determined by his countenance. The neck of the