On Mrs. Riddells Birthday（1 / 1）

on mrs. riddell's birthday

4th november 1793.

old winter, with his frosty beard,

thus once to jove his prayer preferred:

“what have i done of all the year,

to bear this hated doom severe?

my cheerless suns no pleasure know;

night's horrid car drags, dreary slow;

my dismal months no joys are crowning,

but spleeny english hanging, drowning.

“now jove, for once be mighty civil.

to counterbalance all this evil;

give me, and i've no more to say,

give me maria's natal day!

that brilliant gift shall so enrich me,

spring, summer, autumn, cannot match me.”

“'tis done!” says jove; so ends my story,

and winter once rejoiced in glory.