Tylney Hall


Tylney Hall


Serene, or ruffled by the storm,

On present waves, as on the past.

The mirror'd grove retains its form,

The self-same trees their semblance cast.

The hue each fleeting globule wears,

That drop bequeaths it to the next.

One picture still the surface bears,

To illustrate the murmur'd text.

So, love, however time may flow,

Fresh hours pursuing those that flee.

One constant image still shall show

My tide of life is true to thee !

Having wound up these lines, instead of his

fishing- ones, he returned to the Hall, where an

exchange of prisoners had taken place during his

absence. Mrs. Hamilton was walking in the

garden; the Creole was gone out for a ride;

and Ringwood had previously cantered off towards

Hollington, with an anxiety all his own, as to the

convalescence of the Head of the Hive. In lieu

of all these, Squire Ned was sitting in the drawing-

room, tete-a-tete with the Baronet; the worthy

friends being deeply engaged in the same pastime

as those celebrated Irish gamesters,

The Trout and the Salmon

A-playiny Backyammon.

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