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I think I have met the idea conveyed in the first verse in some of Hood's prose, but as my friend assures me that Hood was too conscientious to appropriate anything not his own, I conclude I am mistaken. Fowl, that sing'st in yonder pool, Where the summer winds blow cool, Are there hydropathic cures For the ills that man endures? Know'st thou Priessnitz? What? alack Hast no other word but "Quack?"
Thou sing'st as if the God of wine Had helped thee to a Valentine; A song in mockery and despite Of shades, and dews, and silent Night; And steady bliss, and all the loves Now sleeping in their peaceful groves.
She plays with her ruin, and views with a thoughtless and a partial eye the murderer of her virtue and her happiness. And, oh, poor helpless nightingale, thought I, How sweet thou sing'st, how near the deadly snare! But if you do not accept the proposal that is made you, it is but too probable what her fate will be, and how soon the event will take place.
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