SAMUEL BISHOP.
This gentleman was born in 1731, and died in 1795. He was an English
clergyman, master of Merchant Tailors' School, London, and author of a
volume of Latin pieces, entitled 'Feriae Poeticae,' and of various other
poetical pieces. We give some verses to his wife, from which it appears
that he remained an ardent lover long after having become a husband.
TO MRS BISHOP,
WITH A PRESENT OF A KNIFE.
'A knife,' dear girl, 'cuts love,' they say!
Mere modish love, perhaps it may--
For any tool, of any kind,
Can separate--what was never joined.
The knife, that cuts our love in two,
Will have much tougher work to do;
Must cut your softness, truth, and spirit,
Down to the vulgar size of merit;
To level yours, with modern taste,
Must cut a world of sense to waste;
And from your single beauty's store,
Clip what would dizen out a score.
That self-same blade from me must sever
Sensation, judgment, sight, for ever:
All memory of endearments past,
All hope of comforts long to last;
All that makes fourteen years with you,
A summer, and a short one too;
All that affection feels and fears,
When hours without you seem like years.
Till that be done, and I'd as soon
Believe this knife will chip the moon,
Accept my present, undeterred,
And leave their proverbs to the herd.
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