EGOTISM. A LETTER TO J. T. BECHER.

If Fate should seal my Death to-morrow,

( Though much I hope she will postpone it,)

I've held a share Joy and Sorrow,

Enough for Ten; and here I own it.

I've lived, as many others live,

And yet, I think, with more enjoyment;

For could I through my days again live,

I'd pass them in the‘ same’ employment.

That‘ is’ to say, with‘ some exception’,

For though I will not make confession,

I've seen too much of man's deception

Ever again to trust profession.

Some sage‘ Mammas’ with gesture haughty,

Pronounce me quite a youthful Sinner —

But‘ Daughters’ say, “although he's naughty,

You must not check a‘ Young Beginner’!”

I've loved, and many damsels know it —

But whom I do n't intend to mention,

As‘ certain stanzas’ also show it,

‘ Some’ say‘ deserving Reprehension’.

Some ancient Dames, of virtue fiery,

( Unless Report does much belie them,)

Have lately made a sharp Enquiry,

And much it‘ grieves’ me to‘ deny’ them.

Two whom I lov'd had‘ eyes’ of‘ Blue’,

To which I hope you've no objection;

The‘ Rest’ had eyes of‘ darker Hue’ —

Each Nymph, of course, was‘ all perfection’.

But here I'll close my‘ chaste’ Description,

Nor say the deeds of animosity;

For‘ silence’ is the best prescription,

To‘ physic’ idle curiosity.

Of‘ Friends’ I've known a‘ goodly Hundred’ —

For finding‘ one’ in each acquaintance,

By‘ some deceived’, by others plunder'd,

‘ Friendship’, to me, was not‘ Repentance’.

At‘ School’ I thought like other‘ Children’;

Instead of‘ Brains’, a fine Ingredient,

‘ Romance’, my‘ youthful Head bewildering’,

To‘ Sense’ had made me disobedient.

A victim,‘ nearly’ from affection,

To certain‘ very precious scheming’,

The still remaining recollection

Has‘ cured’ my‘ boyish soul’ of‘ Dreaming’.

By Heaven! I rather would forswear

The Earth, and all the joys reserved me,

Than dare again the‘ specious Snare’,

From which‘ my Fate’ and‘ Heaven preserved’ me.

Still I possess some Friends who love me —

In each a much esteemed and true one;

The Wealth of Worlds shall never move me

To quit their Friendship, for a new one.

But Becher! you're a‘ reverend pastor’,

Now take it in consideration,

Whether for penance I should fast, or

Pray for my‘ sins’ in expiation.

I own myself the child of‘ Folly’,

But not so wicked as they make me —

I soon must die of melancholy,

If‘ Female’ smiles should e'er forsake me.

‘ Philosophers’ have‘ never doubted’,

That‘ Ladies’ Lips’ were made for‘ kisses!’

For‘ Love!’ I could not live without it,

For such a‘ cursed’ place as‘ This is’.

Say, Becher, I shall be forgiven!

If you do n't warrant my salvation,

I must resign all‘ Hopes’ of‘ Heaven’!

For,‘ Faith’, I can n't withstand Temptation.