A = 
 
 
 A 
 
 
 
 1 o 
 
 
 
 1 o 
 
 
 ' 
 
 1 
 
 1 o 
 
 1 a 
 
 
 ! 
 
 === 
 
 
 1 1 
 
 
 
 '; 
 
 I 6 
 
 
 
 1 8 
 
 
 i- 
 
 1 7 
 
 
 
 
 1 6 
 
 . 
 
 V 
 
 •- 
 
 m 
 
 >• -■ 
 
 r
 
 : 4M 
 
 WnwZy_tf? 
 
 ragi 
 
 
 
 j&iC^, 2J&& 
 
 fesS 
 
 1 ^^MJ' 
 
 • 
 
 -imSm 
 
 
 w'dfXDae 
 
 ^jt/vi*v 4i^F 
 
 IrainS 
 
 
 raSgSJ 
 
 fy£?i* 
 
 
 
 PmSISc 
 
 
 aSSE 
 
 //'- 'flK/ 
 
 
 TjjflPj 
 
 ^*hB^£**0 
 
 
 "ilSS! 
 
 9$£&)i 
 
 ^HW^vCskY^ONk 
 
 
 
 
 BlYA &%&£k 
 
 
 ^Ha&><U ^* 
 
 Tfe^**-- j» 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 FREDERIC THOMAS BLANCHARD 
 ENDOWMENT FUND 
 
 -*»-■* 7^#
 
 ' -.
 
 v\* 
 
 C , .1
 
 POETICAL 
 
 PROLUSIONS.
 
 POETICAL 
 
 PROLUSIONS. 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN GLANVILLE. 
 
 o-CRIBIMUS JNDOCTI DOCTIQLE POEMATA PASSIM. 
 
 hor. EPisr. i. b. 2. 
 
 I ONLY TRANSIENT VISITS PAY, 
 
 MEETING THE MUSES IN MY WAY ; 
 
 SCARCE KNOWN TO THE FASTIDIOUS DAMES, 
 
 OR SKILL'd TO CALL THEM BY THEIR NAMES. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED BY MILLAR RITCHIF, MIDDLE STREET, CLOTH FAIR, 
 
 FOR THE JUTHOR, 
 
 SO. 75, ST. JAMES'S STREET, PICCADILLY. 
 18C-' .
 
 + 7/2 
 CrHAf 
 
 PREFACE, 
 
 IN this our day, a Volume of Poems is, 
 perhaps, a Work of fupererogation. 
 
 " Nil intentatum noftri liquere poetse, " 
 
 faid honeft old Horace, nearly two thoufand years 
 ago. This feems of itfelf to demand fome palliative 
 Preface to every fubfequent attempt; but it is a 
 truth, which I believe holds univerfally, that, 
 the more requifite the Apology, the more difficult 
 it is to frame it. What, then, can be faid, when, 
 as in the prefent cafe, the Occafion which induces 
 was fo obvioufly avoidable — — the beft refource is 
 
 a Silence 
 
 764476
 
 vi PREFACE. 
 
 Silence. Yet, with refpe£fc to the following 
 Prolufions, the Author finds it necejjary to fay, 
 that, among them, there are fome which have al- 
 ready appeared in the ephemeral Publications of the 
 moment in which they were written, and are, as by 
 internal evidence is, perhaps, fufficiently demon- 
 ftrated, the productions of the earlier hours of life : 
 his late years, however, has not left them unrevifed, 
 nor, as he hopes, unamended. A few there are, 
 to which he has little other merit than that of pre- 
 fenting them to the word, which a Friend, to whom 
 he is proud to be indebted, has kindly favoured him 
 with. That he has not in any particular manner dif- 
 tinguilhed them from his own, is from the conviction 
 ■ — that their fuperior Elegance, and the Difcernment 
 of the Reader, will render any fuch difcrimination 
 fuperfluous. 
 
 Thus
 
 PREFACE. VU 
 
 Thus much being' premifed, the Author takes 
 his leave. It were a licentious abufe of the Reader's 
 patience to extend it even to the Preface : it would 
 be, befides, impolitic to diminifh at all the ftock <o£ 
 a virtue on which he is about to make fo ample a 
 demand, and on the abundance of which he has lb 
 much to depend.
 
 TO THE 
 
 HONOURABLE, 
 
 BE DUNSTANVILLE, 
 
 Xc. 8Cc. 
 
 MY LORD, 
 
 THE common-place language of de- 
 dicatory addreffes, is ufually fo revolting to the 
 delicacy of a noble and elevated mind, — and the 
 difficulty of celebrating a character dijlinguifhed by 
 the bejl endowments of the head and heart, without 
 rifque of wounding that delicacy by the warmth of 
 commendation, is fo great,-— that I feci my/elf "compel- 
 led to relinquifh a dedication to you of a work, to 
 whofe author your countenance has done fo 
 much honor. This difappointment affects me the 
 
 B lefs t
 
 lefs, when I recollect how fuperfiuous it were to ex- 
 tol that worth, of which all zvho knoiv you, are alike 
 forward to value, and to praife. 
 
 Fortunately, Fame and Renown are not objects of 
 primary purfuit to a mind like your's; for, were they, 
 IJIiould be humbled not a little, by the confcioufnefs, 
 that nothing could be contributed to either by any 
 eulogium which might fall from the pen of, 
 
 My Lord, 
 
 Your LordJhip\ 
 Befpectful, 
 
 And greatly obliged, 
 Humble Servant, 
 
 JOHN GLANVILLE. 
 
 iT. jamks'* steht,
 
 POETICAL 
 
 PROLUSIONS. 
 
 INVOCATION 
 
 FANCY. 
 
 WHAT time fufpended floats on high 
 Night's waving lamp, whofe tranquil blaze 
 
 Adds luftre to thy fparkling eye, 
 
 As o'er the mountain's gradual fwell, 
 It throws, with ftill delight, its glitt'ring rays— 
 
 My youth, O, Fancy ! lov'd to trace 
 
 Thy changeful form from place to place 5— 
 
 B 2 With
 
 With rapture has my eye furvey'd, 
 When influenc'd by thy magic fpell, 
 
 With lightning-glance, thy varying (hade j 
 Has feen thee when the fapient Jlame, 
 
 Faint glimm'ring from the hermit's cell, 
 Shed o'er the wizard wq/ie its peaceful gleam ; 
 Has feen thee then, deep-mufing, roam 
 To watch the fountain's fretful foam 
 With fparkling rage repel the darkly-winding 
 ftream. 
 
 Teach me each mournful fcene to (hare, 
 As rapt I clafp thy trembling hand j 
 Ah ! then, thy willing vot'ry lead 
 Thro' the fad, folitary tracks of mind ; 
 
 Where all is darknefs — all with dread replete — 
 
 Steal with me to yon rude retreat ; 
 
 Where Anguim, lonely roving 'mid the dead, 
 
 Deep mourns — but mourns in vain Hope's 
 
 fairy vifion fled I 
 
 Near
 
 Near where the jet-wing'd ravens dwell, 
 Of elves — and fprites — and vifions tell j 
 At eve, as round the lofty tow'r 
 The dull bat fwiftly flits ; 
 And, 'mid the havock of the howling ftorm, 
 
 Gigantic Ruin fits, 
 Hailing the ruthlefs fhocks which Nature's face 
 deform. 
 
 When mirthful Morn begins to rife, 
 Pouring along the glowing fkies 
 
 A flood of vap'ry flame j 
 And fmiling Loves, on Zephyrs borne, 
 Throng round her fapphire throne, 
 
 And Venus, laughter-loving dame, 
 And the Graces, in the wave 
 Delight in wanton mood their lucid limbs to lave. 
 
 Or when grey Twilight foftly deals 
 
 Down the rough mountain's fhadowy fteep, 
 
 Spreading, with viewlefs hand, her fober veil 
 O'er the blue violet's expanding bloom 5.— 
 
 B 3 Ah!
 
 Ah ! then conduct my wand'ring feet 
 
 Where flow'rets gay their moiften'd fweets exhale; 
 Where the rock-rofe and woodbine meet, 
 
 To fling their fragrance on the fportive gale. 
 
 Behold, the Sun, with fervid ray, 
 O'er the wide ftreamlet clear and cold, 
 Calls a ftrong gleam of fluid gold ; 
 And, from yon cloud that gilds the day, 
 Burfts on my ear the warbling lay : 
 The lark on jocund wing falutes the morn, 
 
 The echoing cave the drains prolong ; 
 Notes fprightly now, and now forlorn, 
 
 Breathe thro' the frefh'ning (hade in variegated 
 fong. 
 
 In fcenes like thefe, with footfteps wild, 
 Thou lov'ft to tread the wild'ring maze : 
 
 Within thine airy car reclin'd, 
 Thy vivid pencil joys to trace 
 
 Secrete from mortal eye, — " The fhadowy tribes of 
 mind." 
 
 ADDRESS
 
 ADDRESS 
 
 TO THE SBIRIT OF CHATTERTON. 
 
 FULL OFT UNKNOWING, AND UNKNOWN, 
 HE WORE HIS ENDLESS NOONS ALONE, 
 
 AMID TH* AUTUMNAL WOOD ; 
 OFT WAS HE WONT, IN HASTY FIT, 
 ABRUPT, THE SOCIAL BAND TO QUIT, 
 
 AND GAZE WITH EAGER GLANCE UPON THE TUMBLING FLOOD. 
 
 Wartot* 
 
 O THOU ! that was't of purer fire, 
 
 Belov'd of Genius, to Defpair confign'd, 
 What chilPd the fervor of thy noble mind. 
 When wand'ring in life's early morn, 
 Penfive, deflitute, forlorn, 
 
 Thy wayward hand firft fwept the golden lyre ? 
 
 Struck by thy fingers, trembling, cold, 
 Sounds ftrong, enthufiaftic, bold, 
 
 Burfi from the antique wire ! 
 
 Alas ! thofe notes, fo wildly fweet, 
 Which cheer'd Misfortune's deep retreat, 
 Taught thee — diftra&ing thought! — but earlier to 
 expire ! 
 
 B 4 Ahl
 
 Ah ! where is now the mournful Mufe, 
 Whofe glowing hand divinely fpread 
 The wreath of ever-blooming hues 
 Around thine infant head, 
 And to thy fong, fublime, fuch grandeur gave? 
 
 While pond 'ring Fancy would delight 
 Before thy aching fight to wave 
 
 Her quickly-varying tints of many-colour'd light. 
 
 Say, doth thy viewlefs form refide 
 Near the lone mould'ring turret's fide, 
 Or near the mountain's cheerlefs cell 
 The fable heath, or fhadowy dell, 
 Or dolt thou feed the fwelling rofe 
 With genial dews at Evening's clofe, 
 Or is it, fay, thy warmth benign, 
 Which in fome fouls fuperior mine, 
 Dolt, thou, oh, gentle fpirit, flied 
 On Mifery's devoted head 
 
 The lenient balm that heals the wounds of Woe— 
 
 Or
 
 Or doft thou wipe the moiften'd eye— 
 Supprefs pale Sorrow's hopelefs figh — 
 Succour th' expiring wretch, that fain in peace 
 would die? 
 
 Parent of Suicide ! — oh, Phrenzy !— -fay, 
 
 What doth thine agonies allay, 
 
 Who clears thy bed of many a pointed thorn — 
 
 Who bathes with tears thy bofom bare- 
 Smooths thy black treifes, flowing wild— 
 
 And hides from vulgar fight thine Eye's fierce glare ? 
 
 'Tis he who once hath known too well 
 To pluck the pale and fading flowers 
 From Earth's cold bed 
 By Sympathy's bland influence led : 
 His pitying fpirit mildly foothes, 
 With tendereft voice, thy raving hours ; 
 Awakes the foft harp's folemn firings, 
 And, to thy burning brain, fome fweet illufion 
 brings j — 
 
 Wafts
 
 10 
 
 Wafts each quaint, fliapelefs form along, 
 Tends thy diforder'd couch with ceafelefs care, 
 
 Pours on thy Fancy's ear the warbling fong, 
 And cheers thine ever-varying woe, 
 With numbers foftly fweet, and mufically flow. — 
 
 Oh, gentle fpirit ! were it mine 
 To touch the thrilling chords with fkill like thine, 
 Thy (trains again (hould flow — again fliould charm 
 the Nine. 
 
 TO
 
 11 
 
 TO POVERTY. 
 
 JN YMPH of the threadbare garb, and haggard 
 eye, 
 
 Whofe cheeks, difdaining to difclofe 
 
 Ought of the lilly or the rofe, 
 Exulting vaunts the crocus' yellow dye. 
 
 All Hail ! for thou full many a day 
 
 Haft been the lone companion of my way ; 
 And therefore will I pay to thee 
 
 This tributary lay : 
 
 Near the wide wade, o'er which the whirlwinds 1 oar 
 Refiftlefs, haply is thy home ; 
 Yet cannot thy chill melancholy dome 
 Exclude the tempeft's blaft, or lightning's pow'r, 
 Or, near the time-worn turret's height 
 To fhrowd thee dofl thou there delight ; 
 Where, on thy ftraw-bed, fwoln with woes, 
 Thy burning bofom vainly feeks repofe. 
 
 I'fee
 
 12 
 
 1 fee thee, now, in every horror clad, 
 Stalking before my aching fight; 
 Thine eyes averted from the light — 
 Folded thy arms — thy pace defponding, fad! 
 
 While the bleak blaits that to the air 
 
 Scatter thy garment — long worn bare, 
 
 Difclofe a form fo gbaftly — thin ; 
 
 And bones that feem juft ftarting from the fkin I 
 p 
 And onward as thou urgeft thy career, 
 
 Affrighted mortal's fearful fly ; 
 
 Dreading the baneful influence of thine eye; 
 Or, tremblingly, behold thy prefence near : 
 
 E'en he, whom hoards of wealth furround, 
 
 Shrinks at thy voice's forrowing found ; 
 
 Flies to his gold— and counts it o'er, 
 
 Then locks it up — and {huts on thee his door. 
 
 At my obfcure and humble cell, 
 
 Too well, wan maid, thy form is known ; 
 
 For I, long us'd to Fortune's frown, 
 Mavelearn't with thee and Mifery to dwell: 
 
 Thy
 
 13 
 
 Thy deep diftreffes, well I know, 
 Have felt thy each attendant woe j 
 Nor is the pleafure mine to prove 
 The foothing voice of parents' love I 
 
 Yet will I not of thee, ftern nymph, complain, 
 That thus life's humble vale along, 
 " Scarce notic'd of the palling throng," 
 I breathe an artlefs, unambitious ftrain : 
 For thou haft damp'd th' afpiring flame 
 That once impell'd me on to fame ; 
 And taught my foul to hope for peace, 
 When life and all its ills (hall ceafe. 
 
 *V
 
 14 
 AN ODE 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF WARTON- 
 
 Y E hallow'd Nine ! whofe folemn fhell 
 
 Woos haplefs Sorrow from her drear retreat, 
 Oh, gently wake the warbling fwell, 
 Pour forth thofe tones divinely fweet, 
 Such as the fainted foul enchain ; 
 Departed worth demands thy itrain ; 
 Demands the tear of artlefs woe, 
 Bids the foft dream of pity flow, 
 The mournful heart to throb, the pallid cheek 
 to glow. 
 
 in vain, when Twilight weeps the clofing flow'r, 
 
 To liften, Warton, to thy manly fong ; 
 Shall Fancy call around each magic pow'r, 
 Or trace thy wand'ring ftep the mead along : 
 In vain fhall feek thee near the mountain's fide, 
 The Dryad's haunt, the foreft wide — 
 Her penfive progrefs meets the vap'ry fliow'r. 
 
 Thy
 
 15 
 
 Thy folemn knell ftrikes on her mufing ear, 
 Ah ! fatal prelude to the mournful tale ; 
 
 She in her bofom hides the falling tear, 
 
 Shrinks back at ev'ry ftep, and darts at ev'ry gale. 
 
 Where is thy fav'rite child, O, Genius ! fpeak, 
 
 Say, where is now thy boafted pride ? 
 Alas ! the white rofe taints his faded cheek : 
 
 Cold is that hand which (truck thy dulcet lyre ! 
 He's gone ! — who, gifted with thy brighteft beam, 
 Spread thy fweet influence far and wide ; 
 Fled from yon fculptur'd tomb, his foul of fire 
 O'er Heav'n's pure azure throws its radiant gleam : 
 That voice which ftole in mournful woe, 
 Along the checquer'd vale below, 
 Now fwells with holy (trains th' angelic choir ! 
 
 When cavern'd Silence, rous'd from her dull dream, 
 Counts the (low bell which tolls the pafling 
 
 hour, 
 And o'er the ivy-mantled tow'r 
 The wan Moon throws her fofteft beam ; 
 
 Then
 
 16 
 
 Then, Mufic ! — love-lorn, melancholy maid — 
 Sweep o'er the trembling harp thy hand divine, 
 Oh ! ftrike the plaintive chords, for it is thine 
 To foothe thy votary's ling'ring (hade : 
 For well he knew to feel on earth 
 That vivid fpark of heav'nly birth, 
 Which marks th' exalted foul in all its 
 radiant worth. 
 
 FARE*
 
 17 
 
 FAREWELL TO REFLECTION. 
 
 AN ODE. 
 
 vJH! why, Reflection, prompt the burning tear, 
 The pang convulfive, and the hopelefs figh, 
 Thofe fatal preludes to defpair j 
 
 Why on my fancy paint fad fcenes of future care ? 
 
 When near the flow Farewell of parting light, 
 I fee thee gliding thro' the (hadowy gloom, 
 
 Thy languid form diftra£ts my aching fight, 
 
 And leads my mind to friendJJiip and the tomb: 
 
 It brings thofe trains of thought which fweetly fteaj 
 
 O'er hearts by Nature keenly taught to feel. 
 
 Leave, then, oh, leave the penfive bow'r, 
 The lteep-brow'd hill, the high-arch'd tow'r j 
 And at mild Evening's gradual clofe, 
 
 When the cold Moon's refracted light 
 Laces the fable fkirts of Night, 
 Retire, alone, to weep thy woes : 
 
 C Mourn
 
 13 
 
 Mourn the loft hours which fled fo faft, 
 Obfcur'd by faults and follies pafl; 
 Tell to the pafling wind thy haplefs tale, 
 To me thy whifpers cannot now avail. 
 
 Sooth, penfive Echo, with thy forrowing fhell ; 
 
 Go — henceforth weep alone—farewell, farewell r 
 
 ODE
 
 19 
 
 ODE TO PITY. 
 
 H AIL! lovely Nymph, whofe penfive mien 
 Within each fad recefs is feen, 
 
 Weeping the love-lorn tale ; 
 Whofe winning accents oft I hear, 
 So foftly wild, fo fweetly clear, 
 
 Breathe through the lonely vale. 
 
 Not all the beauties that adorn 
 The rich refplendence of the Morn, 
 
 To me, are half fo fweet 
 As are thofe mild and tender beams, 
 Which from thine up-rais'd eye-lid ftreams, 
 
 In Sorrow's cold retreat ! 
 
 When Mifery's wan and faded form 
 Abides the fury of the ftorm, 
 
 Depriv'd of ev'ry friend ; 
 Then doft thou gently raife her head, 
 And to fome low, protective flied, 
 
 Her trembling footfteps bend. 
 
 C 2 With
 
 20 
 
 With all the eloquence of youth, 
 To thee her tale of flighted truth 
 
 The artlefs virgin tells : 
 "While on her bofom, white as fnow, 
 And on her cheek all pale with woe, 
 
 Thine eye alternate dwells. 
 
 To me the pearl is not fo dear 
 As is that gentle, gen'rous tear, 
 
 Juft glift'ning in thine eye j 
 Nor yet fo fweet, from yonder dell, 
 The fylvan harp's celeftial fwell, 
 
 As is thy mournful figh. 
 
 Give me, when penfive and alone, 
 To hear thy lorn lute's mellow tone, 
 
 At eve, the woods among ; 
 For thou each painful thought can'ft cheer, 
 Sad warbling on the Night's dull ear, 
 
 Thy flow, expreflive fong. 
 
 Angelic
 
 21 
 
 Angelic form ! enthron'd in Heav'n, 
 Oh ! be thy pow'rs to me but giv'n, 
 
 Let me thy influence own ; 
 My earlieft vows thou malt receive, 
 Altho', perhaps, thou wilt not heave 
 
 One figh when I am gone ! 
 
 C 3 WRITTEN
 
 22 
 WRITTEN 
 
 ON THE 
 
 BANKS OF THE THAMES. 
 
 JN OW Ev'ning's dulky ftiadows flowly (hrow'd 
 Th' extended landfcape, and horifon's verge ; 
 
 The Moon's bright fires are quertch'd within a cloud, 
 Their luftre feebly flinging on the furge. 
 
 The curling billows thronging to the fhore, 
 The hollow murmur*of the founding main ; 
 
 The frequent darning of the diftant oar, 
 
 Sooth, for a while, the keeneft fenfe of pain. 
 
 Lo ! from her orient bed yon dewy Star 
 Rufhes to chear the gloomy vault of night, 
 
 And, as (he rolls her pearly axled car, 
 
 Scatters around her fmiles of mantling light. 
 
 Here, with Maria, have I paus'd, to view, 
 
 Sweet orb, thy courfe afcending o'er yon wood , 
 
 Marking thy paly luftre, as it flew, 
 Strew liquid pearls upon the filver flood. 
 
 With
 
 23 
 
 With rapture on the fcene my heart beats high, 
 Its local magic chafes wan Defpair 5 
 
 But, as I turn, alas ! to fhare my joy, 
 Maria's abfence ftarts the feeret tear ! 
 
 Yet ftill is left one thought of pure delight ; 
 
 Yon half-ris'n orb will foon more brilliant be; 
 And, flaming in the forehead of the Night, 
 
 Catch her dear Eyes, and then fhe'll think of me ! 
 
 C 4 TO
 
 24 
 
 TO NIGHT. 
 
 WH, Night ! mild fource of fweeteft fong, 
 Whilft round thee airy minftrels throng, 
 1*11 blend with their's my fofteft note, 
 With their's I'll bid my vefpers float ; 
 For whilft I tune my lyre to thee, 
 Maria then will think on me. 
 
 Let others vaunt the Morning's beams, 
 Whofe liquid couch bright purple ftreams; 
 Or hail the gaudy Lord of Day, 
 Whilft vapr'y clouds improve his ray : 
 No charms but in the Night I fee, 
 For then I know (lie thinks of me. 
 
 Come, then, chafte Night, in glory hade, 
 Enlight'ning all thy fombre wafte 
 With glowing fires: — let ev'ry ftar, 
 That rolls his rich refulgent car 
 O'er thy blue vault, more brilliant be, 
 To charm her whilft (he thinks on me. 
 
 And,
 
 25 
 
 And, oh, unveil thy modeft Moon, 
 With all the graces of her noon ; 
 Enthrone her in her pearly chair, 
 Spread her light ermine thro' the air; 
 Her cloudlefs beam fhe'll joy to fee, 
 And then I know fhe'll think on me. 
 
 Bid the clear Stream preferve her form ; 
 And on her glafs no ruffling itorm, 
 Or captious hurricane that blows, 
 E'er break her beamy orb's repofe; 
 For, fondly, there 'twill refting be 
 Whilft on its banks (lie thinks on me. 
 
 Down every mountain's fide be roll'd 
 The bright effulgence of thy gold; 
 On every ftraw-crown'd cot be feen, 
 And richly edge each fairy green, 
 Whofe circling troops, with fportive glee, 
 Shall cheer her whilft flie thinks of me. 
 
 Reprefs
 
 26 
 
 Reprefs thy rude, impetuous floods, 
 But wake to fong thy jlumb Wing woods; 
 Oh ! Night, on every fhadowy fpray 
 Seek the chafte bird that iliuns the day; 
 His long- pent notes from filence free, 
 Lefs fweet than her's who thinks of me. 
 
 Yet, fweet Ihcy are — how fweet the trills 
 Which Paflion from her heart diftills: 
 Fond Fairies round each hoary oak 
 The feeling (trains (hall oft invoke; 
 And Hamadryads watch the tree, 
 Whofe (hade guards her who thinks on me. 
 
 Thus on thy altar, hallow'd Night, 
 Whilft conftellatinns (lied firm light, 
 And ftars, erratic, dart their beams, 
 And from the North, Day's mirror dreams; 
 My humble verfe thou (till (halt fee 
 Infpir'd by her who thinks on me. 
 
 For
 
 27 
 
 For know, that tho' thy praife I've fung, 
 And on thy fcenes with rapture hung, 
 And, borne on proud poetic flight, 
 Seem'd foaring to thy wilds of Light; 
 Yet will I own, whilft hymning thee, 
 I faw but her who. thinks on me. 
 
 But, Goddefs, do not blame my ftrain, 
 
 Or deem my adoration vain ; 
 
 For all thy orbs of cryftal glow, 
 
 Thy fleecy fields, thy downs of fnow, 
 
 Flafh not fuch fplendor on thy fame, 
 
 Give not fuch honor to thy name, 
 
 As now thou gain'ft by Love's decree, 
 
 Which wreath's thee thus with her who thinks on me. 
 
 TO
 
 28 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 DREAD Goddefs, whom I lately fung, 
 For whom a chofen lyre I fining, 
 For whom my tendered numbers flow'd, 
 For whom the cherub Fancy glow'd; 
 Call'd forth thy attributes to view, 
 And feiz'd each beauty as it flew; 
 The lyre has ceas'd, the fong is o'er, 
 Maria thinks on me no more. 
 
 line Tc 
 
 How dares yon flaming Torch on high 
 Hold its proud courfe along the fky; 
 That gaudy Moon, abforb her light, 
 Reprefs her radiance, pitying Night; 
 She vainly deems her pearly horn 
 Will emulate the beamy Morn: 
 Thy raven darknefs round her pour, 
 Maria thinks on me no more. 
 
 Rivers
 
 29 
 
 Obfcure the folitary wave, 
 
 In which the Stars their trefTes lave; 
 
 When to the Earth they fend their dreams, 
 
 Rufliing in a flood of beams; 
 
 O'er plain and alp they fwiftly roll, 
 
 And glitter at the diftant pole : 
 
 Goddefs, thy deepeft (hades reftore, 
 
 Maria thinks on me no more. 
 
 And why fhould yonder fragrant Grove, 
 Where frenYning Zephyrs playful rove, 
 Where in the (hadows, born of Day, 
 The Bullfinch carols forth his lay, 
 Still boaft its breeze, (till chaunt its fongr 
 Let not the trembling leaves among, 
 The Nightingale's foft warblings pour, 
 Maria thinks on me no more. 
 
 Oh, Night! afifert thy magic power, 
 Swift iflue from thy folemn tower, 
 Snatch from the North thy deadlieft blaft, 
 Let thy black pall o'er earth be cad; 
 
 Let
 
 so 
 
 Let every flow'r its fragrance lofe, 
 And Ceres drink thy blighting dews; 
 The gloomieft ruin I'll adore, 
 Since now fhe thinks on me no more. 
 
 I 
 
 Thy vivid colours, bid them go 
 
 To deck the dome unknown to woe; 
 
 Are not Defpair and Horror thine, 
 
 The Madman's howl, the Murd'rer's fhrine, 
 
 The Fens grofs flame, the Owl's lorn fliriek, 
 
 Thin Sprites that glide, but never fpeak? 
 
 Sweep Light, then, from thy ftarry floor, 
 
 For, oh ! £he thinks on me no more. 
 
 And dar'd I bid thee wake each fcene, 
 And make thy bright Hair o'er the green ; 
 And did I vaunt thy dulky robe, 
 Folded around our pendant Globe, 
 With brilliant Stars embroider'd round, 
 Trembling athwart the blue profound? 
 I did — I did — and as I fung, 
 ' Thy lofty Emperean rung. 
 
 Thou
 
 31 
 
 Thou hcard'ft me, Night! thy vault, I fill'cf, 
 
 Thy praife thro' all th' horizon trill'd, 
 
 The mountain Echoes caught the notes, 
 
 And bore them in their airy throats; 
 
 Pleas'd Fancy lift'ned to the lyre, 
 
 And touch'd its firings, and fed its fire; 
 
 Unveil'd thee to my wond'ring eye, 
 
 And bade me chafe thee thro' the fky; 
 
 But now the fong, the praife is o'er, 
 
 I (truck the lyre for her who thinks on me no more- 
 
 nrxo
 
 32 
 
 Should it be thought that the Writer has failed in his attempt to verfify the two 
 little pieces which follow, he hopes the opportunity it gives him of introduc- 
 ing the elegant fragments, which induced it, will be an apology for the failure. 
 
 RYNO AND ALP IN. 
 
 A HIGHLAND FRAGMENT. 
 
 1 HE winds and rain are over, and calm is the 
 noon-day; — the clouds are divided in Heaven; — 
 over the green hill flies the inconftant fun ; — red 
 through the ftony vale comes down the ftream of the 
 hill — fvveet are thy murmurs, oh, Stream ! — but more 
 fweet is the voice I hear; — 'tis the voice of Alpin ! 
 fon of fong — mourning the dead ! — Bent is his head 
 of age — and red his tearful eye.— Alpin — thou 
 fon of fong ! — why alone on the filent hill ; — why 
 complaineft thou, as a blaft in the wood — as a wave 
 on the lonely fhore ? — 
 
 My tears, oh! Ryno, are for the dead! — my 
 voice for the inhabitants of the grave ! — Tall thou art 
 on the hill — fairamongft the fons of the plain ; — but 
 
 thou
 
 thou (halt fall like Morar ! — and the mourner mail 
 fit on thy tomb ! — thy bow Ihall lie in the hall un- 
 
 ftrun< 
 
 '»• 
 
 Ihou wert fwift, oh, Morar ! as the roe on the 
 hill ; — terrible as a meteor of fire ! — thy wrath was 
 a ftorm of December! — thy fword in battle, as 
 lightning in the field ! — thy voice was like a ftream 
 after rain ! — like thunder on diftant hills! — Many fell 
 by thy arm — they were confumed by thee in the 
 flames of thy wrath ! — but when thou returneft from 
 war, how peaceful was thy brow; — thy face was 
 like the fun after rain, — like the moon in the fi- 
 lence of nighty — calm as the breaft of the lake, 
 when the loud wind is laid ! — Narrow is thy dwell- 
 ing now— dark the place of thy abode ; — with fix 
 fteps I compafs thy grave : — Oh, thou ! who waft 
 fo great before — four (tones, with thin heads of 
 mofs, are the only memorial of thee ! — a tree with 
 fcarce a leaf! — long grafs, which whiftles in the 
 
 wind! — Mark, too, the hunters eye thy grave! — Mo- 
 rar, thou art low, indeed ! — thou haft no. mother to 
 
 D mourn
 
 34 
 
 mourn thee ! — no maid with her tears of love ! — 
 dead is (he that brought thee forth ! — fallen is the 
 
 daughter of Morglan! Who, on his ftaff, is 
 
 this — whofe head is white with age ? — whofe eyes 
 are red with tears — who quakes at every ftep ? — It 
 is thy father, oh, Morar! — the father of none but 
 thee ! — He heard of thy fame in battle ! — he heard of 
 foes difperfed ! — he heard of Morar' s fame ! — why 
 did he not hear of his wound? — Weep, thou father 
 of Morar ! — weep — but thy fon heareft thee not; — 
 Deep is the fleep of the dead ! — low their pillow of 
 duft ! — no more fhall he hear thy voice, — no more 
 {hall he awake, as at thy call ! — When fhall it be 
 morn in the grave — to bid the flumberer awake ? 
 
 Farewell, thou braved of men ! — thou conqueror 
 in the field ! — but the field fhall fee thee no more, 
 nor the dark wood be lighted with the fplendor of 
 thy fteel! — thou haft left no fon; — but the fong 
 (hall preferve thy name ! — future times (hall hear of 
 thee, — they fhall hear of the fallen Morar ! 
 
 The
 
 35 
 
 The fame in Verfe. 
 
 1 HE winds are hufh'd, the driving tempeft's o'er, 
 And the fun's mid-day beams obfcur'd no more ; 
 The clouds di r perfing in the troubled Iky, 
 O'er the deep vale in quick fuccefuon fly ; 
 Red from the mountain roll with headlong force, 
 Defcending ftreams, a torrent in their courfe : 
 Sweet meets the dafliing cataract mine ear, 
 But fweeter far the tuneful voice I hear: 
 Ah ! 'tis the voice of Alpin, fon of fong, 
 Mourning the dead — to him the dead belong ; 
 Opprefs'd with grief, and bending as with years, 
 His dreaming eyes enflam'd by Sorrow's tears ! 
 Why, matter of the fong, thus wafte thy (kill, 
 Alone — unheeded — on the defert hill ? 
 Why flows thy (train as waves that la(h the more, 
 Or as the pafling wind that's heard no more ? 
 
 Ryno, the fong which farrowing caught thine ears, 
 Are Morar's due, for him I (hed thofe tears : — 
 
 P 2 Thou,
 
 36 
 
 Thou, tho' now youthful honours grace thy head, 
 Muft foon be number'd with the filent dead ; 
 Tho' Health has ftrew'd thy cheek with rofes fair, 
 And lent thee ftrength to chafe the bounding deer ; 
 Tho' Friendship now its cheering rays impart, 
 And Love, exulting, dances at thy heart ; 
 Tho' ev'ry blooming fair thy paffion meets, 
 And proudly ftrews thy path with lavifh fweets ; 
 From Morar's doom, alas ! no pow'rs can fave, 
 Soon mall thefe pleafures yield thee to the grave ; 
 No more thefe woods fhall echo with thy joy, 
 Neglecled and unftrung thy bow fhall lie ! 
 Morar was fwifter than the roe's light heel, 
 And direful, as a meteor, flam'd his fteel ; 
 His rage was like the wintry tempeft wild, 
 His fword, like lightning, gleam'd along the field ; 
 His voice was louder than the torrent's roar, 
 Or the hoarfe wave that beats the fullen fhore , 
 Heroes on heroes fell beneath his arm, 
 As mifls are fcatter'd by the riving ftorm : 
 But once the battle o'er, and peace appear, 
 How would his fmile the dark horizon clear j 
 
 Calm
 
 Calm as the filver Emprefs of the Sky, 
 
 Or Summer feas, when hufli'd the tempefts lie ! 
 
 But, ah ! how difFrent his abode we trace, 
 
 With fix fhort fteps I compafs now the place : — 
 
 Great as he was, four ftones with mofs o'ergrown 
 
 His fole memorial give j the reft's unknown. 
 
 One folitary oak, whofe leaves are fhed, 
 
 The long dank weeds which whiftle round his head, 
 
 Thofe, and thofe only, to the hunter's eye 
 
 Point the drear tomb where Morar's allies lie ! 
 
 How low is Morar fallen !— on his bier 
 
 No mother fheds the tributary tear ; 
 
 No maid, to whom his vows of love he gave, 
 
 Pours her foft forrows on his filent grave : 
 
 Thefe limbs are cold his infant years that bore, 
 
 And his lov'd fair, Morana, is no more ! 
 
 But who, low bending o'er his ftafF, diftrefs'd, 
 At once with forrow and with age opprefs'd, 
 Comes with weak ftep, and eyes furcharg'd with tears, 
 A few grey hairs his rev'rend temple wears ? 
 
 P 3 Tis
 
 38 
 
 "Tis Morars father, his worn form I fe£, 
 
 Mora?', the fire of none, alas ! but thee ! 
 
 He learn'd thy mighty prowefs in the field, 
 
 Of martial hofts that fell beneath thy fhield : 
 
 Oh ! why was it referv'd for me to tell 
 
 Of the deep wound by which, alas ! he fell ! 
 
 O, fire of Mcrar, ever lhalt thou mourn ; 
 
 Thy lov'd, loft Morar never (hall return ! 
 
 Deep are his {lumbers 'midft the mighty dead, 
 
 Low in the duft the warrior's pillow's laid ; 
 
 No more with filial joy thy voice he hears, 
 
 E'en battle's call unheeded meets his ears ; 
 
 His voice no more alarms the hoftile field, 
 
 Nor the dark foreft lightens with his fhield. — 
 
 When, on the mould'ring urn, (hall Morning break, 
 
 That Morn which bids the flumb'ring dead awake ? 
 
 Farewell, thou firft of men, thy name, fublime, 
 Shall live recorded on the rolls of Time ; 
 Tho' to no fon defcends thy honor'd name, 
 The verfe, the fong, fhall confecrate thy fame: 
 The fplendid record future times fhall bear, 
 And future warriors grace it with a tear ! 
 
 A HIGH-
 
 39 
 
 A HIGHLAND FRAGMENT. 
 
 AUTUMN is dark on the mountains; — grey 
 mills reft on the hills. 
 
 On the heath, dark rolls the river through the 
 narrow plain. 
 
 A tree ftands alone on the hill, and marks the 
 grave of Connal. 
 
 The leaves whirl round -with the wind, and drew 
 the grave of the dead. 
 
 At times, are feen here the ghofts of the dead, 
 when the mufing hunter (talks flowly over the heath. 
 
 Who can reach the fource of thy race, O, Con- 
 nal ! and who recount thy fathers ? — Thy family 
 grew like an oak on the mountain, which meeteth 
 
 the wind with its lofty head. Who (hall fupply 
 
 thy place, O, Connal? 
 
 D 4 Her*
 
 40 
 
 Here was the din of arms, and here was the 
 groans of the dying ! — Mournful are the wars of 
 
 Fingal ! — O, Connal, it was thou didft fall ! ■ 
 
 Thine arm was like a ftorm — thy fword a beam of 
 the fky — thy height a rock on the plain — thine eyes 
 a furnace of fire ; — louder than a ftorm was thy 
 voice. When thou confoundedft the field, warriors 
 fell by thy fword, as the thiftle by the ftaff of the 
 boy ! 
 
 Dargo, the mighty, came on like a cloud of 
 thunder j — his brows were contracted, and dark — 
 his eyes like two caves in a rock : — bright rofe their 
 fwords on each fide - } — dire was the clang of their 
 fteel. 
 
 The daughter of Rinval was near — bright in the 
 armour of man -, her hair loofe behind, her bow 
 in her hand. She followed the youth to the war — 
 Connal, her much beloved ; — fhe drew the firing 
 
 at Dargo, — but, erring, pierced her Connal! 
 
 lie falls, like an oak on the plain — like a rock from 
 
 the
 
 41 
 
 the (baggy hill !— What fhall fhe do?— haplefs 
 maid! — He bleeds! — her Connal dies] — All the 
 night long fhe cries — and all the day O, Con- 
 nal ! — my love ! — and my friend ! With grief 
 
 the fad mourner died ! 
 
 Earth here enelofeth the lovelieft pair on the 
 hill : — the grafs grows beneath the ftones of their 
 
 tombs. 1 fit in the mournful (hade ; — the wind 
 
 fighs through the grafs ; — and their memory ruflies 
 on my mind. Undiiturbed ye now fleep to- 
 gether; — on the tomb of the mountain you reft 
 alone ! 
 
 The
 
 42 
 
 The fame in Verje. 
 
 .N OVV Autumn in auftere and furly mood 
 Roll's her dark mifts along the deep'ning wood $ 
 O'er the dun heath the vengeful tempefl roars, 
 And the fvvoln rivers lafh the founding fliores. 
 Lonely and fighing to furrounding gloom, 
 A time-worn oak marks ConnaVs defart tomb ; 
 Bleak winds had (hook the honours from his head, 
 And ftrew'd the manfion of the filent dead : 
 Here, as the hunter traverfes the green, 
 (So Fancy paints) his pallid ghoft is feen. — 
 
 Oh, valiant Connal ! who, lynx-ey'd, can pierce 
 Back thro' the veil of Time the heroes fierce 
 That mark'd thy line ? — oh, who (hall trace, 
 From warrior back to warrior, all thy race ? 
 Strong as the mountain oak fublime they rofe, 
 Scattering difmay and terror on their foes : — 
 Now art thou fallen, fallen 'midft thy prime !— 
 Who now fhall fpread their fame from clime to clime ? 
 
 Here
 
 43 
 
 Here rofe the clang of arms — the dying there 
 
 Groan'd from the ftroke of mighty Fi?igaVs fpear : 
 
 Here mighty ConnaVs blood bedew'd the ftrand, 
 
 Whofe vigorous arm no valour could withftand. 
 
 His ftrength refiftlefs as the dorm was found, 
 
 His fword, like lightning, gave no fecond wound ; 
 
 Firm as the mountain oak his manly form, 
 
 His eye was lightning, and his voice the ftorm :— 
 
 As falls the reed before the furious blaft, 
 
 So by his fpear the proudeft funk to reft. — 
 
 The haughty Dargo, gloomy as a cloud, 
 Sternly advanc'd, hurling defiance loud : 
 Sunk were his eyes, his brows contracted low'r, 
 His frown was darker than the midnight hour. 
 Dire was the fhock of arms when fhield met fhield, 
 The armies paufe while they difpute the field : — 
 RinvaVs fair daughter, Cremora, drew nigh, 
 Clad in bright arms, a ftripling to the eye ; 
 Loofe to the wind her graceful trefTes flow, 
 Her hand, unequal, ftrung the warrior-bow. 
 The beauteous maid had follow'd to the fight, 
 Connal, her heart's fole treafure and delight ; 
 
 'Gainfir
 
 44 
 
 'Gainft Dargo's breaft her erring firing fhe drew, 
 The trait'rous fhaft, alas ! her Connal flew ! — 
 He fell, fo falls the oak, in evil hour, 
 Or rock, uprooted by the whirlwind's pow'r ! — 
 Ah ! haplefs fair ! what horrors round her rife ; 
 Breathlefs and cold, a corfe, her Connal lies ! 
 Each day, ill-fated maid, thou'rt doom'd to weep, 
 Each night thy reftlefs couch in tears to fteep -, 
 Madly to rave, and, with thy lateft breath, 
 Call thy lov'd Connal from the fhades of death. 
 
 Here refts, inclos'd within this verdant fod, 
 The trueft pair thofe hills have ever trod ; 
 Befide their filent tomb, where fprings the blade, 
 Sorrowing I fit beneath the mournful fhade j 
 And, as the reed fighs hollow to the wind, 
 Their much-lov'd mem'ry preffes on my mind . 
 Together here they fleep, to pain unknown ; 
 Enfhrin'd within the tomb they reft alone ! 
 
 LINES
 
 45 
 LINES ■ 
 
 ON A I 
 
 FAVOURITE WHITE CAT. 
 
 llAIL ! Dolce, darling of the feline race, 
 Let each fleek pufs thy charms fuperior own ; 
 
 The milder beauties of thy harmlefs face, 
 Thy filky paw, thy coat of fofteft down. 
 
 'Midft the drear fog of rude November's night, 
 Straying, with devious ftep, the ftreets around, 
 
 (A ftarvling kitten then) in faddeft plight, 
 
 By luckieft chance, dear Dolce, thou w 7 e'rt found. 
 
 Now chang'd thy ftate !— then, hungry and forlorn, 
 Thy thread oflife nigh broke, thou wand'r'dft wild } 
 
 Pelted by cruelty, and kick'd by fcorn, 
 With cold half frozen, and with dirt defil'd. 
 
 Thou takeft noxv, with fondeft care receiv'd, 
 
 In Milliora's arms thine envy'd reft ; 
 Each longing gratified, each want reliev'd, 
 
 By all protected, and by all careft.
 
 46 
 
 'Tis thus that, crufh'd beneath Fate's rigid fvvay, 
 Full many a Child of Poverty is feen ; 
 
 Indignant Fortune, in life's earlieft day, 
 
 Checks their fond hope, and darkens ev'ry fcene. 
 
 Ah ! unlike thee, they find no friend humane ; 
 
 Neglected and unwept their woes they bear ; 
 No fympathetic ftranger fooths their pain, 
 
 Or whifpers comfort to their fad defpair. 
 
 No foft'ring hand their bitter wants fupply, 
 They unregarded live, and unlamented die ! 
 
 TO
 
 47 
 
 TO DISAPPOINTMENT. 
 
 A PRAYER. 
 
 JYlAID of the ftreaming eye, and pallid cheek, 
 Haggard Disappointment, hear; 
 
 Thy gloomy altar will I feek, 
 To thee addrefs my prayer. 
 
 Where'er thou art, to thee I call, 
 
 Thou bearer of th' inverted fhield - f 
 Who rid'ft upon the vengeful ball, 
 
 Triumphant o'er the blood-ftain'd field. 
 
 Who lov'ft, amid youth's flower-Are w'd way, 
 
 Surly, to take thy baneful Hand ; 
 Or, crouching, eager to deflroy 
 
 Each hope his ardent fancy plann'd. 
 
 Whofe giant form delighted bears 
 
 Its terrors o'er the weftern wave ; 
 To feed upon the falling tears 
 
 Which dove-ey'd Mercy try'd to fave. 
 
 There,
 
 48 
 
 There, fmiling when the felon fcourge 
 Inflicts the murd'ring wound j 
 
 And when the {tripes a groan can urge, 
 Exulted in the found* 
 
 Oh ! thou haft mark'd each profpe£t bright 
 
 Which open'd on their view 5 
 And o'er the fcene, malignant fprite, 
 
 Thy with'ring mantle threw. 
 
 Wreath'd in the fmiles of her I love, 
 Trembling I've watch'd thine eye? 
 
 To think thee diftant often ftrove, 
 Yet found thee always nigh. 
 
 Except, indeed, when anguifh keen 
 Eflay'd to wound my aching heart* 
 
 Then only 'twas thou waft not feen \ 
 Thou fcorn'ft to eafe the dart. 
 
 Yet
 
 49 
 
 Yet even there, perhaps, thou'rt found, 
 Lurking in Hope's enchanting drefs, 
 
 With fmile infidious, more to wound 
 The victim of diftrefs. 
 
 Oh ! now my profpect brightens fair, 
 Far, Disappointment, fly; 
 
 Grant this my firft and only pray'r, 
 Blaft not my coming joy. 
 
 Then at thy baneful, horrid fhrine, 
 With rev'rence lowly bending down, 
 
 My future pleafure I'll refign, 
 And live beneath thy frown. 
 
 THE
 
 50 
 DISAPPOINTMENT. 
 
 BY SHENSTONE. 
 
 Y E fliepherds give ear to my lay, 
 
 And take no more heed of your fheep ; 
 They have nothing to do but to ftray, 
 
 I have nothing to do but to weep : 
 Yet do not my folly reprove, 
 
 She was fair — and my paffion begun ; 
 She fmil'd — and I could not but love ; 
 
 She is faithlefs — and I am undone ! 
 
 Perhaps I was void of all thought, 
 
 Perhaps it was plain to forefee 
 That a Nymph fo complete would be fought 
 
 By a Swain more engaging than me. 
 Ah ! Love, ev'ry hope can infpire, 
 
 It banifhes wifdom the while ; 
 And the lip of the Nymph we admire 
 
 Seems for ever adorn'd with a fmile. 
 
 She
 
 51 
 
 PARODY. 
 
 Y E {bullions give ear to my lay, 
 
 And take no more care about fleep j 
 You have nothing to do but to play, 
 
 I have nothing to do but to weep : 
 Yet do not my folly reprove, 
 
 It was plump — and my paffion begun ; 
 Full of plumbs — and I could not but love ; 
 
 Is demolifli'd — and I am undone ! 
 
 Perhaps I was void of all thought, 
 
 Perhaps it was plain to forefee 
 That a pudding fo rich would be fought 
 
 By a glutton more hungry than me. 
 Ah ! hunger each hope can infpire, 
 
 It banifhes wifdom the while ; 
 And the rim of the difh we admire, 
 
 Seems for ever adorn'd with a fmile. 
 
 E 2 'Tis
 
 52 
 
 She is faithlefs, and I am undone, 
 
 Ye that witnefs the woes I endure, 
 Let reafon inftrucl: you to Ihun 
 
 What it cannot inftrutt you to cure. 
 Beware how ye loiter, in vain, 
 
 Amid Nymphs of a higher degree ; 
 It is not for me to explain 
 
 How fair and how fickle they be. 
 
 Alas ! from the day that we met, 
 
 What hope of an end to my woes r 
 When I cannot endure to forget 
 
 The glance that undid my repofe ! 
 Yet time may diminifli the pain: 
 
 The flow'r, and the fhrub, and the tree, 
 Which I rear'd for her pleafure, in vain, 
 
 In time may have comfort for me. 
 
 The fweets of a dew-fprinkled rofe, 
 The found of a murmuring ftream, 
 
 The peace which from folitude flows, 
 Henceforth (hall be Corydon's theme. 
 
 High
 
 53 
 
 'Tis demolifli'd, and I am undone : 
 
 Ye that witnefs the pangs I endure. 
 Let Prudence inftruft you to fhun 
 
 The pudding you cannot procure. 
 Beware how ye loiter, in vain, 
 
 Among {bullions of higher degree ; 
 It is not for me to explain 
 
 How fat, and how faucy they be. 
 
 Alas ! from the day that we met, 
 
 What hope of an end to my woes, 
 When I have not got out of it yet 
 
 The fcent that faluted my nofe i 
 Yet time may diminilh the pain, 
 
 The chop, cutlet, and white fricaffee, 
 Which for them I have garniuYd, in vain, 
 
 May in time have temptations for me 
 
 The charms of a red-pimpled nofe, 
 
 The flavour of porridge-pot fteam, 
 The gravy which round the diih flows, 
 
 Henceforth Ihall be Cormorants theme, 
 
 E 3 Rich
 
 54 
 
 High tranfports are fliewn to the fight, 
 But we are not to find them our own ; 
 
 Fate never beftow'd fuch delight, 
 As I with my Phillis had known. 
 
 Oh ! ye woods, fpread your branches apace ; 
 
 To your deepeft receffes I fly ; 
 I would hide with the beafts of the chace, 
 
 I would vanifli from every eye : 
 Yet my reed (hall refound thro' the grove 
 
 With the fame fad complaint it begun, 
 How ftie fmil'd — and I could not but love ; 
 
 Was faithlefs — and I am undone !
 
 55 
 
 Rich dainties are (hewn to the fight, 
 But we are not to find them our own ; 
 
 Fate never beftow'd fueh delight, 
 As I with my pudding had known. 
 
 Oh ! ye cooks, ope your cupboards apace, 
 
 To their duftiett corners I fly j 
 I would hide when I hear you fay grace, 
 
 I would vanifh from every eye : 
 Yet my voice (hall refound tho' the grove 
 
 With the fame fad complaint it begun, 
 'Twas plumb-full — and I could not but love 
 
 Tis demoliuYd — and I am undone I 
 
 E 4 TO
 
 56 
 
 TO HOPE. 
 
 OH ! thou, that from the wild rock's height, 
 
 Woo'ft the propitious gale 
 And fitt'fl intent with eager fight 
 To catch the long-expe£ted fail ; 
 And each ftar's aufpicious rife 
 Watcheft with impatient eyes, 
 Mourning each paffing cloud that fhades the 
 ev'ning flues. 
 
 While Fancy oft delights to wave 
 
 The playful pennant to thy view, 
 
 From the terrific ocean's cave, 
 
 Floating on clouds of varied hue, 
 
 The vifionary vefTel to emerge, 
 
 And ride upon the fwelling furge, 
 
 This moment feems, 
 
 While the next diflipates thy blifsful dreams : 
 
 Yet dark Defpair is not thy bofom's gueft, 
 
 Some newly-pi£tur'd vifion is careft, 
 
 Thy tranfient tortures o'er, and thou again art 
 
 blefs'd. 
 
 Welcome,
 
 57 
 
 Welcome, oh, welcome to my heart, 
 
 Lov'd daughter of the Ikies ; 
 
 And, as the gufts of Difappointment rife, 
 Thy fov'reign aid impart ; 
 
 Brighten each cheerlefs profpe£t to my eyes ! 
 Fly not, thou fweet enthufiaft, from me, 
 
 Do not my adverfe fate alone deride ; 
 
 Tho' dead to ev'ry joy befide, 
 Oh, let me be alive to thee 1 
 
 Yon captive, on whofe wafted form no gale 
 
 Has deign'd to blow for many a ling'ring day ; 
 Who long has ceas'd the voice of friend to hail, 
 Who long has ceas'd to feel the folar ray; 
 Yet bending o'er his bed of tangled ftraw, 
 Refign'd to Fate's refiftlefs law, 
 He ceafes not thy influence to adore, 
 But dreams of bleffings yet in (lore, 
 And thinks on days to come, when woe {hall 
 be no more. 
 
 Tho'
 
 58 
 
 Tho' the endearing vows of Love, 
 That won her virgin heart, 
 
 The artlefs maiden long has ceas'd to hear ; 
 
 Yet doth thy infpirations oft remove 
 Her fad forebodings, and impart 
 
 Thy pleafing whifp'rings to her wiftful ear. 
 The faithlefs youth again return, 
 Again with love his bofom burn ; 
 She hears thee, dear deceiver, fay, 
 The dawning of fome happier day 
 Shall fee him fuppliant to her modeft charms, 
 And flie a blufhirtg bride, encircled in his arms. 
 
 What tho' thy promifes are air, 
 
 Yet (halt thou have my votive pray'r : 
 
 Sooth, then, oh! Hope, my haplefs doom, 
 On my lorn mind thy lenient balfam pour, 
 
 As onward thro' life's wildernefs I roam, 
 
 Tell my dejecled mind of joys to come, 
 
 And fpeak, oh ! fpeak of Heaven, of Virtue's only 
 home ! 
 
 NO
 
 59 
 
 THE RETURN, 
 
 FROM THE EASTERN TO THE WESTERN IND*, 
 NO JEWEL IS LIKE ROSALIND. 
 
 -A.GAIN frefli verdure decks the lawn, 
 Again with joy I hail the dawn, 
 
 Again with rapture burn ; 
 Day's Monarch fcatters from his beams 
 The truant, Health, and wide proclaims 
 
 My Rosalind's return. 
 
 She gives the landfcape pow'r to charm — 
 Can Sorrow of her dart difanri, 
 
 And bring diftrefs relief: 
 Her fmiles, as Morning, cheers the rofe, 
 Can long-loft peace reftore, and clofe 
 
 " The bleeding artery of grief." 
 
 Rankling Jealoufy, and Care, 
 Grim-vifag'd, comfortlefs Defpair, 
 
 And all their frightful train ; 
 Beneath whofe melancholy pow'rs 
 So late I pafs'd my gloomy hours, 
 
 And fought relief in vain : 
 
 Shale/pear*. 
 
 At
 
 60 
 
 At her return, before her fly, 
 Chas'd by the lightning of her eye, 
 
 And fcatter'd diftant — far ; 
 As vapours which the Morning throws 
 From off the mifty mountain's brows, 
 
 As onward rolls her car. 
 
 Lo ! like yon dewy Star, whofe light 
 Sheds fmiles upon the face of Night, 
 
 And wide its radiance flings ; 
 She comes to eafe my troubled foul, 
 When doubts and fears acrofs it roll, 
 
 With healing on her wings. 
 
 Like the mild dove, which erft went forth 
 From Noah to the fartheft North, 
 
 The wat'ry wafte explor'd ; 
 Returning from the defert track, 
 Bringing the joyful enfign back, 
 'Of Happinefs reftor'd I 
 
 ODE
 
 61 
 
 TO BEAUTY. 
 
 Enchanting Pow'r \ whofe forceful fway 
 
 The proudeft hearts relu£tant own, 
 
 Oh! come not, come not near ! 
 I dread to bend before thy throne, 
 My pow'rs are loft, my reafon's gone, 
 
 When, in the blaze of their difplay, 
 Thy dazzling charms appear, 
 Enchanting ev'ry fenfe, waking delight and fear ! 
 
 Oh ! pour not on my raptur'd ear, 
 
 Thefe fyren tones, divinely fweet ; 
 Turn quickly from my aching fight 
 Thofe fparkling eyes of liquid light, 
 
 With love and tendernefs replete ; 
 Whofe magic lightnings, fportive, dart 
 Athwart the burning mind, and vibrate thro' the 
 heart. 
 
 Whence
 
 62 
 
 Whence fpring thofe dear, delufive pains, 
 
 Which o'er each fenfe thus fweetly fteal ; 
 Glide fwiftly thro' my glowing veins, 
 
 And wake the ecftacy I feel ? 
 Oh ! 'tis thy blifsful fway, 
 
 Thy ftrong, but fecret fpell, 
 Thus fteals me from myfelf away ! 
 
 Thou only fuch delirium can'ft infpire, 
 Thy fnowy bofom's graceful fwell ; 
 
 Thy radiant eye's expreffive fire, 
 Each filky ringlet's mazy curl, 
 Thy lips of lovelieft red, thy teeth of lufcious pearl ! 
 
 Oh ! come not, come not nigh, 
 
 Thou potent Emprefs of the Heart ; 
 Quit not for me thy native Iky : 
 I dare not woo thee to my arms, 
 Or gaze upon thofe feraph charms, 
 Which chain the captive Mind, and Reafon's felf 
 difarms • 
 
 ADDRESS
 
 63 
 
 ADDRESS 
 
 SHEET OF PAPER. 
 
 OHALL my unhallow'd hand then dare to ftain 
 Thy fpotlefs leaves, thus lightly bath'd in gold ; 
 
 Breathe o'er thy furface, in foft, plaintive ftrain, 
 A tale more wild than trembling Love ere told ? 
 
 Or, to revive each fadly-pleafing (bene, 
 Say, (hall I waft thee to a foreign more ; 
 
 To dwell, alas ! on times that once have been, 
 And pleafures paft, and joys that are no more ? 
 
 Or wilt thou whifper, in fome fofter hour, 
 My timid vows on Beauty's ftartled ear ; 
 And mildly paint Hope's fweet, bewitching pow'r, 
 The eye's fond languilh, and the haplefs tear ? 
 
 Oh, no; — let Friend/hip each gay wifli receive, 
 Beware Love's filver tones, they charm but to de- 
 ceive !' 
 
 SONNET
 
 64 
 
 SONNET 
 
 MRS. SIDDONS. 
 
 1 IS not thy fafcinating charms to trace, 
 Thou fweet enchantrefs ! that I ftrike the fliell ; 
 Tis not to paint each mild, attractive grace, 
 That in thy polifh'd form delights to dwell ; 
 
 Thy brilliant eyes, thro' Paffion's maze that roll -, 
 Thy piercing glance, the lightning of thy fmile - f 
 
 Thy magic tones, that thrill th' enraptur'd foul, 
 And pale-ey'd Anguifli of her grief beguile ! 
 
 No, Siddons ! 'tis thy rich, creative mind, 
 Thy bold conception of exalted thought, 
 
 Which fportive wanders, free, and unconfin'd, 
 Where'er wild Fancy holds her fairy court ! 
 
 Oh ! may real forrow ne'er thy bofom fwell, 
 Nor thou e'er feel thofe woes, which thout canft 
 feign fo well ! 
 
 SONNET
 
 65 
 SONNET 
 
 TO 
 
 MISS HANNAH MORE. 
 
 FaV'RITE of Virtue, beft belov'd of Heav'n, 
 Thy worth fublime mould prompt a fweeter layj 
 
 Should prompt fuch drains as are to Angels giv'n, 
 And teach the foaring thought from earth to ftray. 
 
 But, ah ! 'twere vain ! — thy merits court the (hade; 
 
 Carelefs of human love, or human praife, 
 Thoud'ft fhrink to fee thy mental charms pourtray'd; 
 
 Far other fame thy foul fuperior fvvays. 
 
 Religion's peaceful empire to extend, 
 To lure the wand'ring fpirit to it's reft, 
 
 Is thy kind talk, thy being's aim and end : 
 With this fond care is all thy foul poffeft. 
 
 Yet, tho' no earthly view thy hopes inflame, 
 Thy country owns thy worth, and long fhall love 
 thy name. 
 
 F THE
 
 66 
 
 THE VOYAGER. 
 
 A SONNET. 
 
 1 HE homeward failor, cradled in the (hrowd, 
 
 Heeds not the fury of the ftorm, 
 Tho' peals, in frequent thunders, loud 
 
 Roars round his fhiv 'ring form. 
 
 When high upon the giddy mad, 
 
 Rock'd by the gales of night, 
 Fearlefs he views the lurid blaft, 
 
 Undaunted meets the fight. 
 
 Tho' Danger threats on ev'ry fide, 
 And Horror yawns below, 
 
 Sill Hope, his flatt'ring, faithful guide, 
 Shoots thro' his heart a glow ; 
 
 That once, thofe momentary perils o'er, 
 He meets his darling fair to part no more I 
 
 STANZAS
 
 67 
 
 STANZAS, 
 
 INSCRIBED TO HER WHO BEST UNDERSTANDS THEM. 
 
 W HY, bufy Thought, impatient of repofe, 
 Thus wander o'er the paft fad fource of pain, 
 
 Whence all my forrows, all my joys arofe j 
 Joys that are gone, — but forrows that remain ? 
 
 Alas ! what mind, but thus delights to range ; 
 
 Exults to fee, with myftic fkill reftor'd, 
 The fcenes, revers'd by Time's eventful change, 
 
 Which moft it lov'd — the days it moft ador'd. 
 
 Hail ! peaceful Beddington, fweethamlet, hail ! 
 
 Long fhall thy name my inmoft foul revere ; 
 E'en till life's lateft hour malt thou prevail, 
 
 To bring to memory all my heart holds dear. 
 
 When Harriot's prefence graced each heighten'd 
 charm, 
 Fraught with each fympathy which love infpires, 
 I've ftrove, with earneft energy; to warm 
 Her gen'rous bofom with congenial fires. 
 
 F 2 In
 
 68 
 
 In thy lone church-yard, where, belov'd of Time, 
 The aged yew tree fpreads it's fun'ral (hade, 
 
 And Death feems paufing o'er the rude fublime, 
 Proud of the havock that himfelf has made ;— -» 
 
 Together, oft, at twilight's thoughtful hour, 
 
 In filent expectation have we flood, 
 To view the owl forth from her darkfome bow'r 
 
 Sail flowly to the deep-embofom'd wood. 
 
 Oft, when the Moon, lorn fpe&re of the night, 
 Shed o'er the wide expanfe her foften'd beam, 
 
 We've dwelt in converfe of unmix'd delight, 
 On many a pleafing, many a plantive theme. 
 
 Oh ! Memory, on my mufing mind retrace 
 The fwiftly-fleeting joys which then I knew; 
 
 Waft me, invifion, to that hallow'd place, 
 And give me back each momeitt as it flew. 
 
 Give
 
 69 
 
 Give me, in Fancy's fweetefl dream to rove 
 
 O'er thofe high hills*, enthroning many a cloud 
 
 To roam the walk,f and tread the lonely grove, 
 What time the fun his genial beams unlhrowd. 
 
 Oh ! no, — Reflection, Mem'ry, Fancy, fly ! 
 
 Thy lov'd illufions I will woo no more ; 
 No more invoke thee from thy magic Iky, 
 
 Or bid thee o'er my mind thy tranfports poun 
 
 Too long has Hope my flatter'd heart beguil'd, 
 Too well her fond, but faithlefs, voice I know ; 
 
 Defpair's more welcome than her afpecl mild,- 
 That lulls to ecftacy — but wakes to woe ! 
 
 Oh ! Apathy, at thy petrific flirine 
 
 I bow, and court thy dull lethargic pow'r; 
 
 Henceforth I'll bend me to thy fway benign, 
 Thy opiate fpell (hall rule each future hoar. 
 
 * Addington hills. 
 
 f Queea Elizabeth's Walk. 
 
 F 3 ELEGY
 
 70 
 
 ELEGY 
 
 ON LEAVING RICHMOND. 
 
 H/RE yon lov'd hills clofe ever on my view, 
 
 Ere I purfue my melancholy way, 
 Here let me paufe, to take a fad adieu ; 
 
 Here to Maria frame the parting lay. 
 
 Not that I quit reluctantly the bow'r 
 
 Of bright eyed Pleafure, and her laughing train j 
 Not that of Fafhion I confefs the pow'r ; 
 
 Such light wing'd forrows would difgrace the 
 (train. 
 
 Not that each modifh beauty I refign, 
 And from the giddy town prepare to go : 
 
 I never worfhipp'd at their tawdry {hrine ; 
 Their lofs would never raife one note of woe. 
 
 'Tis that with thee, oh, Shene ! delight to dwell, 
 She who my heart's beft energies can move; 
 
 'Tis that, while thus the forrowing {train I fwell, 
 I leave the cherifli'd object of my love. 
 
 Oh!
 
 71 
 
 Oh ! ne'er a lovelier face or finer form, 
 From Nature's pencil, into being glow'd j 
 
 Ah ! ne'er a heart more gen'roufly warm 
 In virtues caufe on mortal was beftow'd. 
 
 Tho' upon her cheek the vary'd rofe 
 
 By Beauty's partial hand is amply giv'n, 
 
 Her bread no ignoble attendant knows; 
 Her foul is fpotlefs as the fouls of Heav'n. 
 
 Twick'nham, oft' fhaded by thy claffic bow'rs, 
 I've held fweet converfe with the matchlefs maid ; 
 
 Breath'd new confeffions of her boundlefs pow'r, 
 As carelefs o'er the verdant lawns we ftray'd. 
 
 Oh ! when thy favourite Poet caught her mind, 
 What feraph mufic floated from her tongue : 
 
 Pope's fofteft numbers were by her refin'd, 
 And lift'ning Rapture on her accents hung. 
 
 F 4 Oft.
 
 72 
 
 Oft, too, where Thames' bufy waters lave 
 Thy mofly fkirts, and filent roll along, 
 
 Whilft the moon ftoop'd to kifs the playful wave, 
 I've rais'd to her my love-infpired fong. 
 
 Oh ! I have known the more than mortal blifs 
 To live beneath the empire of her charms ; 
 
 To fteal, with chafte delight, the balmy kifs, 
 And prefs her trembling to my youthful arms. 
 
 Thofe hours are flown on Time's extended wing, 
 Hours that, without her, I can know no more, 
 
 Tho' Fortune all her glitt'ring treafure bring, 
 More e'en than poets paint the mifer's ftore. 
 
 For tho' around me tides of pleafure roll, 
 
 Tho' Hope mould light it's rapture in my eye, 
 
 Remembrance ftill would picture to my foul 
 
 Each vanifh'd fcene, and force the mournful figh. 
 
 Queen
 
 73 
 
 Queen of the folemn hour, whofe luftre dreams 
 Bright from thy ivory-axl'd car above, 
 
 Pillow'd on feath'ry clouds, thy early beams 
 Have witnefs'd all our mutual vows of love. 
 
 Say, does fhe ftill delighted roam thofe hills, 
 Where oft (lie liften'd to my ardent pray'r; 
 
 Does fhe ftill think of him her image fills, 
 Whofe ev'ry happinefs is center'd there : 
 
 Does (he ftill facred hold her early vow, 
 
 Pledg'd when her heart with Paffion's flame was 
 warm ; 
 Or does her gentle bofom ceafe to glow, 
 
 And all that charm'd her once, now ceafe to 
 charm r 
 
 Echo, thou fweeteft wood nymph, catch the found 
 Which here I mingle with the vagrant air ; 
 
 Tell her how deep my heart's unpity'd wound, 
 My brighter! hope how darken'd by difpair ! 
 
 Near
 
 74 
 
 Near where my foofteps now imprint the fand, 
 Oh, Ocean, I conjure you, fear to come ; 
 
 And as your waves, returning, beat the ftrand, 
 Reftrain the wild impetuous (urges' foam: 
 
 Perhaps, when next {he treads, this pebbled more, 
 It may inform her why I linger here ; 
 
 And vivid Recollection then may pour 
 To my fad fate the tributary tear ! 
 
 In vain I call upon the reftlefs wave, 
 
 In vain folicit Echo's airy tongue : 
 No more for me her heart the figh will heave, 
 
 Nor will flie deign to liften to my fong. 
 
 In vain this fond memorial do I leave 
 
 Imprinted on the border of the fea : 
 Why will deceiving fancy Hill believe 
 
 That (he, by all ador'd, will live for me? 
 
 She ,
 
 75 
 
 She, who is all imagination forms 
 
 Of Love, of Beauty \ Happhiefs, and Joy ! 
 
 Whofe glance the moft infenfate bofom warms, 
 Whofe form with rapture fixes every eye ! 
 
 And muft I leave her — leave thofe matchlefs charms? 
 
 For this I frequent heave the deep-drawn figh, 
 That I am forc'd far diftant from thofe arms, 
 
 The frowns of Fate and Fortune to defy. 
 
 Now Dian's paly circlet wide difplays 
 
 Dun Night, in mantle gemm'd with many a ftar, 
 
 Unluftrous borne upon the viewlefs breeze, 
 Slowly advancing in her fhadowy car. 
 
 Dear maid, farewel; and tho' now doom'd to part, 
 And mould we never, never meet again, 
 
 Thy darling image on my faithful heart 
 Will aye indelibly imprefs'd remain, 
 
 ELEGY
 
 7(5 
 
 ELEGY 
 
 TO MARIA. 
 
 1* AR from the arms of her I fondly love, 
 To woo coy Fortune from her deep retreat, 
 
 I go j but, ah ! where'er I devious rove, 
 My heart with anguifh will for ever beat. 
 
 Loud o'er my head the pealing thunder rolls, 
 Full on my fight the livid lightnings glare, 
 
 Down the rough fteep the headlong torrent falls, 
 Giving e'en fiercer horror to Defpair. 
 
 Ah ! what's to me this elemental rage, 
 
 This cram of matter, and this warring world ? 
 
 Conflicts like thefe can ne'er his fears engage, 
 Whofe ev'ry Hope is from his bofom hurl'd.j 
 
 Let thofe feek fhelter, whom fuch ftorms affright, 
 And who, the tempeft o'er, expect a calm ; 
 
 I court thofe rufliing gales which wake the night; 
 No change of feafon brings to me it's balm. 
 
 Long
 
 77 
 
 Long from this heated heart has pleafure flown, 
 And long this head has ceas'd to find repofe ; 
 
 And many a tear this pallid cheek adown, 
 Proclaims a bofom tenanted by woes. 
 
 I love to roam the dwellings of the dead, 
 
 Mid'ft their lone manfions to purfue my way ; 
 
 To court the yew tree's melancholy fliade, 
 And (hrowd me from the gariih eye of day. 
 
 I feek thy gloomieft frown, majeftic Night, 
 Thy ftep myfterious, and thy voice of fear : 
 
 Watch thy (tern influence with unaw'd delight, 
 And liften to thy gales that figh fo drear. 
 
 I love to view thee, riding on the blaft, 
 Pealing thy awful thunder's deepeft roar ; 
 
 On rocks to fee the foaming billows caft, 
 And the ftorm roll along the diftant fliore. 
 
 Me
 
 Me from deep Solitude's impervious fliade 
 The world's enticements never (hall recal ; 
 
 Were it's belt gifts before my fight array'd, 
 I would not quit it to poffefs them all. 
 
 No, never ! tho' the gorgeous Eaft difplay 
 Her ore refulgent, and her diamond's blaze, 
 
 Luftrous and dazzling as the Lord of Day, 
 Untempted on the venal wealth I'd gaze. 
 
 In vain mould Friendihip's foothing voice alure. 
 
 Or Flatt'ry exercife her forceful fway ; 
 Not even Beauty's energetic pow'r, 
 
 Tho' by love arm'd, mould draw me back to day. 
 
 Ah ! ceafe this boaft — fhould but Maria (hew 
 Her lovely image on the defert plain, 
 
 This rebel heart, alas ! too well I know, 
 Would court it's former miferies again. 
 
 THE
 
 79 
 
 THE MUSE RECALLED. 
 
 CELESTIAL maid ! whofe potent fpell 
 Can to the ravifh'd fenfe thy pow'r recal ! 
 Ah ! when, at evening's modeft gleam, 
 Thou fteal'ft along the dark'ning vale, 
 To mark the fwallow fkim the filver ftream , 
 
 Or where the penfive primrofe pale 
 
 Drinks the frefh fragrance of the gale, 
 
 Till, from her pillowy cloud, defcends the Night 7 
 
 And blended landfcapes fail the fading fight j 
 
 Or when the ethereal blue of morn 
 
 Allures thy pollifh'd form to leave 
 
 The lovely fcenes with Nature bath'd in dew, 
 
 To pluck the wild fofe from the weeping thorn : 
 
 From fuch delufive dreams, fweet maid, return ; 
 
 Return, and wake to life the tuneful lyre ; 
 
 Maria's worth can well thy power infpire, 
 
 Can animate the golden wire 
 
 To fend forth founds with harmony replete ! 
 
 The trembling chords, fo foftiy fweet, 
 
 Can charm to ecftacy the ling'ring hours, 
 
 Her fkilful hand can call forth all it's pow'rs. — 
 
 Hark
 
 80 
 
 Hark ! whence arofe that magic voice, 
 Which vibrates on my ravifrYd ear! 
 
 * Behold that form, by heav'n approv'd, 
 ■ Whofe gentle fpirit virtue lov'd ; 
 
 • Behold that eye, whofe glance benign 
 
 ' Drew timid Genius from the cave of thought ; 
 
 * Whofe look can animate, exalt, refine ! 
 
 • Behold the Mufe thou long haft fought, 
 
 ' Whofe tuneful lays thy inmoft foul endear'd !' 
 
 The voice was loft in air, Maria's felf appeard. 
 
 EASE
 
 81 
 
 EASE. 
 
 AN EPISTLE FROM A COLLEGIAN AT OXFORD TO HIS FRIEND 
 AT CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 I OUR friend, a crazy fon of rhyme* 
 Sends you, at length, this fcrawl fublime, 
 Your letter has lain by me long, 
 I grant ye, this was very wrong ; 
 But, dill, I fee not where the ufe is, 
 To fend a firing of ftale excufes; 
 Behold an anfwer come at laft, 
 Let that plead pardon for the paft : 
 I'm forry it came not before, 
 A thoufand words could mean no more. 
 
 You afk me how I am, and where ? 
 What's now my ftudy, what my care? 
 What nezo purfuits my hours engage ? 
 How goes the law's impervious page ? 
 I tell thee, in reply, my brain 
 Is like a vaft, extenfive plain, 
 Which fcarce a zephyr overblows, 
 Or ought occurs to difcompofe. 
 
 G
 
 82 
 
 No objects now my paflions feize, 
 Know, Ned, I pay my court to — EASE. 
 My foul unftrung, my mind undreft, 
 I'm taking intellectual reft : 
 The otium cum dignitate, 
 Now fuperfedes all matters weighty ; 
 The ftring mull be relax'd, you know, 
 Or elfe you rifque to break the bow. 
 Whittling away my graver looks 
 I'll thumb no more your crabbed books -, 
 Old Plowden, Lyttleton> and Coke 
 (Whofe very names my fpleen provoke), 
 And Noy> and half a hundred more, 
 With all their dull black-letter'd lore, 
 I give, unpitying, to the flames, 
 My jaded mind their aid difclaims : 
 My bed-maker may light my fire 
 With Keble, Buljlrode, Style, and/)j/<rr ; 
 I'll pore no more with fapient phiz 
 Over Cro. Jac. and Cro. Eliz. 
 With otherguife employ each day, 
 And while the palling hour away ; 
 
 Round
 
 83 
 
 Round Chrift-church meadow take a turn, 
 Call at the Star the news to learn, 
 Or carelefs lounge about the Quad 
 Till-four — then take a gentle nod, 
 While the fhrill chapel-bell, for pray'rs, 
 Rings it's dull fummons in one's ears : 
 Then with the wits of Pembroke dine, 
 And take with Merton men my wine. 
 While, you, at diftance from the courts, 
 Nod, now and then, o'er Coke's reports, 
 Or bite your lips, and make wry faces 
 O'er arguments of fpecial cafes : 
 E'en I myfelf, a witlefs dunce, 
 Acknowledge to have done fo once, 
 But faw my folly in a trice, 
 And, truft me, never did fo twice. 
 You foon will coincide with me, 
 'Tis nonfenfe, in the laft degree, 
 To let a complicated train 
 Of fubtle reafoning vex you brain, 
 And with your fund of native merit, ' 
 And livelinefs, and wit, and fpirit, 
 
 G 2 To
 
 84 
 
 To con dry folio's night and day, 
 
 And ftew your fenfe and foul away ; 
 
 Attending at the ftated hour, 
 
 Without digeftion, to devour 
 
 Leclures of Logic or of Latin, 
 
 On which the witlefs brain may fatten ; 
 
 And, after all, to have your head 
 
 Stuffd, like a hollow tooth, with lead. 
 
 I this aufpicious moment feize on 
 
 To preach, and bring you back to reafon : 
 
 Who, that the fweets of EASE might know, 
 
 Such difcipline would undergo ? 
 
 So ill am I to care inclin'd, 
 
 That, if the candle of my mind 
 
 Would not fend forth it's wonted light, 
 
 But gleam obfcurely and unbright, 
 
 And burn, at every inftant, thick, 
 
 Unlefs as oft I trim'd the wick, 
 
 And tended it with gentle puffing, 
 
 And kept perpetually fnuffing j 
 
 E'er I'd be teaz'd with all this rout, 
 
 At once, I vow, I'd fnuffit out. 
 
 What,
 
 85 
 
 What, let me afk thee, Ned, is Fame, 
 
 That it fliould be fo much thy aim ? 
 
 We can live well enough without it ; 
 
 Witnefs myfelf, who always flout it j 
 
 Becaufe, convinc'd they greatly err, 
 
 Who high renown to EASE prefer. 
 
 It haps with half the learned race, 
 
 Fame does but publifh their difgrate ; 
 
 She has no favourite but feels 
 
 Fell Envy courfing at his heels j 
 
 The proverb fays (and cntre nous, 
 
 What proverbs fay is very true), 
 
 That after death the dottor comes. 
 
 This trueir. of all apothegms, 
 
 Aptly applies to Fame : you have 
 
 No vifit from her, till the grave 
 
 Has powder'd all your bones to duft; 
 
 Then me proclaims you brave and juft: 
 
 Learning you had, and wit refin'd, 
 
 Genius fubiime, a noble mind: 
 
 And then, e'en Slander {heaths her fword, 
 
 And nods affent to every word. 
 
 G 3 T.io*
 
 8(> 
 
 Tho' Fate has doom'd me to the jar 
 
 And clamour of the wrangling bar, 
 
 Yet no equivalent of fees 
 
 Shall tempt me to forego my EASE, 
 
 I fain would, unperplex'd by ftrife, 
 
 Tread the rough zig-zag path of life ; 
 
 I bear away from critic jars, 
 
 And virulence of verbal wars ; 
 
 I'd rather live where Folly dwells, 
 
 Tinkling her cap ftrung round with bells, 
 
 Than where your formal pedants fit 
 
 The ghoftly enemies of wit ; 
 
 And bookworms, with their cynic rules, 
 
 Quoting the jargon of the fchools : 
 
 With fuch ftarch Dons to be confin'd, 
 
 Puts a Jl rait waijlcoat on my mind, 
 
 I graduated dunces flee ; 
 
 No learned wife- acres for me. 
 
 With all the tribe, the gens barbare, 
 
 My patience is at open war, 
 
 I love to fee libations poui'd 
 
 With freedom round the facial board, 
 
 Where
 
 87 
 
 Where Wifdom grave, and attic Wit, 
 Joint regents of the table fit : 
 I love, by eloquence refin'd, 
 The polinYd intercourfe of mind, 
 But greatly loath the big pretence 
 Of formal talk to folid fenfe ; 
 The meafur'd fentences that waddle 
 With grave parade from empty noddle j 
 With fhreds of claffic lore, defign'd 
 To tinker up a tatter'd mind. — 
 Let friendship's fafcinating fmile 
 My every vacant hour beguile ; 
 Honour I care not for, nor wealth ; 
 Give me tranquility and health, 
 And take all other earthly joys ; 
 Take all life's baubles, rattles, toys, 
 And every tinfel charm that rules 
 Mankind, and fills the paradife of fools. 
 
 I pray you, (hortly, let me know 
 If you remain mjlatu quo ; 
 And when you write, pray fpare my failing, 
 Your ferious hints are unavailing : 
 
 G 4 This
 
 88 
 
 This love of EASE, I can't forfake it, 
 
 So if not giv'n me, mud take it. 
 
 While I am traveling life's dull road, 
 
 I'd fain jog on without a load ; 
 
 Or if my back a load mud bear, 
 
 Chance, not choice, fhall put it theie. 
 
 You, if you will, may rake and rove, 
 
 And pay your due devoirs to Love ; 
 
 But Love no more fhall have my pray'rs - } 
 
 Wine fhall henceforth difpel my cares j 
 
 Shall every joylefs thought reprefs, 
 
 And give a zeft to idlenefs : 
 
 My heart, cafe-harden'd, fhall not feel 
 Thofe wounds that " Time can never heal." 
 
 Grown, in the end, a little wife, 
 I'm callous to love-darting eyes, 
 And teeth of pearl, and pouting lip, 
 W T hence bees their lufcious honey lip. 
 With Cupid long at daggers drawn, 
 (I wifli the Imp had ne'er been born) 
 His dart ne'er rankles in my breaft, 
 Diflurbs my peace, or breaks my refi. 
 
 Never,
 
 89 
 
 Never, to fave my foul, could I 
 Flatter, entreat, and fwear, and figh, 
 And, patient, banquet all the while 
 On the /pare diet of a finite. 
 
 As little, too, can I rehearfe 
 My hopes and fears in plantive verfe ; 
 Full well you know, my Mufe, fublime, 
 Is apt to go beyond her time 5 
 And, after all, tho* thus fhe tarries, 
 'Tis ten to one but fhe mifcarries. 
 It fo falls out, I know not why, 
 She feldom rears her progeny ; 
 Some fullen Fate's uncourteous fpite 
 Deftroys them e'er they fee the light : 
 Some are ftill-born, fome in their birth 
 Are ftrangled, and fent back to earth ; 
 The Accoucheur's unfkilful aid 
 Kills fome, and fome are overlaid : 
 And then, fuch times, I do declare 
 The creature has, as never were > 
 Such keenly-agonizing throes 
 As give no moment of repofe j 
 
 Such
 
 90 
 
 Such twifts, electric ftarts, and groans, 
 And whines, and mutt'rings, and moans — 
 And then, fuch gettings up! — I vow, 
 To paint the fcene I know not how ; 
 Her fufF'rings beggar all defcription, 
 Unlefs, indeed, I dealt in fiction. 
 To cut all fhort, and not abufe 
 Your patience more, the pregnant Mufe 
 Ne'er got from my ungenial brains 
 More than her labour for her pains. 
 
 As luck will have it, you may doze 
 
 As well o'er poetry as profe, 
 
 Elfe might I fear 'twould move your fpleen 
 
 When this unending fcroll is feen. 
 
 But never mind, revenge yourfelf, 
 
 Replace your folio on the fhelf, 
 
 And fhould it take you in the vein, 
 
 Write me ten times as much again. 
 
 This fcrawl prolix has, heav'n knows, 
 
 Trefpafs'd enough on my rcpofe : 
 
 I'll
 
 91 
 
 I'll ne'er again repeat the crime, 
 
 Believe me, thus to prate in rhyme. 
 
 I've much to tell, but can't rehearfe 
 
 The marrow of the tale in verfe : 
 
 So, for the prefent, you'll difpenfe 
 
 With aught of that intelligence. 
 
 I'd feign be railing at the times, 
 
 But railing don't accord with rhymes ; 
 
 Befides, ftate matters don't perplex me, 
 
 I've long fince ceas'd to let them vex me : 
 
 Our conflitution's fall I fear not -, 
 
 Who's in or out of place I care not. 
 
 I will not facrifice my EASE, 
 
 Or kings or minifters to pleafe. 
 
 I give them neither praife nor blame, 
 
 Nor blacken, nor exalt their fame : 
 
 If they do well, why heav'n reward 'em $ 
 
 If they do ill, I difregard 'em : 
 
 Refolv'd, whatever way it goes 
 
 It mall not pefter my repofe ; 
 
 But
 
 92 
 
 But I forget I'm peft'ring your's 
 While this wild fit of rhyme endures. 
 Hating, in friendfhip, to affect 
 Formal profeffions of refpe£t, 
 I thus, at once to make an end, 
 Subfcribe myfelf your fmcere friend. 
 
 Your 
 
 iincere friend. 
 
 EPIGRAMS,
 
 EPIGRAMS, 
 
 SCc.
 
 94 
 
 EPIGRAM, 
 
 ON A VERY HOMELY BUT VAIN YOUNG LADY. 
 
 C/ELIA, why put two patches on ; 
 
 Is it for ornament, or grace ? 
 Take my advice, wear only one — 
 
 And let it cover all your face. 
 
 EPIGRAM,
 
 95 
 
 EPIGRAM, 
 
 W ELL may'ft thou dread, in this fad hour, 
 The lightning's livid flam to feel, 
 
 When to each ftrong attractive power 
 You add, fair girl, a heart of Jteel! 
 
 EPIGRAM. 
 
 LOVELY Kitty, 'witching fair, 
 Would every nerve of paflion tear, 
 And chain the captive foul, 
 
 But Heav'n, in mercy to our fate, 
 Decreed our peace a longer date, 
 And made the thing a fool. 
 
 1 
 
 EPIGRAM.
 
 95 
 EPIGRAM 
 
 OF MONS. DE VOLTAIRE. 
 
 V OUS fonneurs, fans Miferecorde ! 
 
 Perfecuteurs du genre humain, 
 Que in n'ayez vous au cou la corde, 
 
 Que vous tenez en votre main. 
 
 IMITATED. 
 
 OF Ringers, furely fuch a rafcally band 
 Never yet did our patience perplex : 
 
 Would to heav'n the ropes which you hold in your 
 hand, 
 Were twilled full tight round your necks. 
 
 AXO-
 
 &7 
 
 EPIGRAM, 
 
 SUGGESTED BY A MAXIM OF THE LATE LORD CHESTERFIELD' 
 
 I'LL laugh at them that laugh at me, Dick crie»$ 
 Then you'll be always laughing, Will replies. 
 
 SENECA. 
 
 JLLI mors gravis incubat, 
 Qui omrs nimis omnibus 
 Ignotus moritur fibi. 
 
 TRANSLATED. 
 
 WHEN Death's relentlefs dart is hurl'd, 
 What tenfold terrors muft it own 
 
 To him, who, fam'd throughout the world, 
 Dies, to himfelf unknown ? 
 
 H EXTEM-
 
 98 
 
 EXTEMPORE. 
 
 WRITTEN ON A VOLUME OF MANUSCRIPT POETRY, PRE 
 SENTED TO A LADY. 
 
 O HAPPY book ! to whom 'tis giv'n 
 
 To catch that love-infpiring eye, 
 Which carries in its glance the heav'n 
 
 Of him, who muft without her die. 
 
 Oh ! could'ft thou but, kind leaf, retain 
 One heav'nly fmile fhe gives to thee, 
 
 E'er long I'd vifit thee again, 
 And eafe my foul of mifery. 
 
 A SOXG.
 
 99 
 
 A SONG. 
 
 O LOVE! thou foft intruder, Yay, 
 Why haft thou thus my foul poffeft? 
 
 Why, thro' each vein, thus wildly play? 
 Why wound my bofom's envy'd reft? 
 
 Take from my heart thy magic fpell, 
 Subdue each fadly-pleafing pain $ 
 
 Each dear delufive hope difpel, 
 And give me to myfelf again. 
 
 And muft I then each blifs forego ? 
 
 Ah no ! — thou fubtle power divine 
 Let all thine heat within me glow, 
 
 But, touch that heart which conquerM mine. 
 
 
 H 2 A BAL.
 
 100 
 
 A BALLAD. 
 
 1 O languifh, to figh, and complain, 
 
 In forrow to wear out my days, 
 Ne'er to hope a relief from my pain, 
 Is my doom, from thy conquering eyes ! 
 
 Tho', cruel, you kill with a frown, 
 Your charms are fo fix'd in my mind, 
 
 That I bend 'neath your tyranny down, 
 And fear to complain you 're unkind. 
 
 Could but Reafon perfuade me to fly, 
 
 And banifh you far from my heart ! 
 But, alas ! (he illumines your eye, 
 
 And fharpens the point of its dart. 
 
 Do not bid me, then, ceafe to adore, 
 
 And not breathe the foft accent of Love j 
 
 Not to fpeak of my paflion no more, 
 Tho' you may not its ardor approve. 
 
 -at. . Bid
 
 101 
 
 Bid me not quit thofe eyes, darting fire, — 
 
 Quit thofe cheeks, like the down of the peach j 
 
 Lips like rofe leaves, creating defire, 
 
 And thofe fmiles, no defcription can reach, 
 
 The vanquifh'd, who bleed from the dart 
 
 Of the mercilefs vi&ors of war, 
 Are not fuffer'd, unheard, to depart, 
 
 Ere to pity they offer a pray'r. 
 
 Be not thou, then, more cruel than thofe ; 
 
 Ah ! pity thofe pains you infpire j 
 Give him eafe, who is tortur'd by woes, 
 
 Who burns with unquenchable fire ! 
 
 She will! — (lie's an angel of light ! 
 
 In Heav'n's image, fure mercy muft dwell ! 
 She will not abandon him quite, 
 
 But will hear him his mifery tell. 
 
 H 3 SONx\ETS,
 
 SONNETS, 
 
 «fc. 
 
 & 4
 
 104 
 
 SONNET, 
 
 TO THE PRIMROSE. 
 
 ^WEET, early Promifer of fpring, 
 That bloom'ft in Sorrow's humble vale, 
 
 I love to view thee mildly fling 
 Thy perfume to the vagrant gale. 
 
 I've mark'd thy fmiles, when Morn difplay'd 
 Thy brighter beauties to the eye ; 
 
 Have feen thy tears, when Evening's fhade 
 Cloath'd thy pale leaf with fofter dye. 
 
 Thus does the morn of mutual love 
 Spread o'er the foul its livelier glowj 
 
 Thus we behold the moiften'd tear 
 Down Sorrow's fnowy bofom flow; 
 
 When plighted love proves infincere, 
 
 Then 'tis we feel the force of woe ! 
 
 JMITJ.
 
 105 
 IMITATION OF A SONNET 
 
 OF 
 
 PETRARCH. 
 
 JN OT lefs the playful magic of thy mind, 
 Than its deep pathos, has the pow'r 
 
 To bear my forrows to the wind, 
 In Fate's fevereft hour. 
 
 Oh, were I thrown where tygers how], 
 Where the fun darts his burning beams ; 
 
 Or, fhiv'ring near the frozen pole, 
 
 Where fummer's radiance never ftreams; 
 
 Or rack'd upon the torturing wheel, 
 Or gah'd by Slavery's murd'rous chain j 
 
 My foul, mid'ft every pang, would feel 
 Thy glowing charms, and fcorn its pain. 
 
 Blefs'd with thy fmile, 'gainft every evil flrive, 
 But thy dread frown I never could furvive ! 
 
 SONNET.
 
 106 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 J3LEAK o'er the barren heath the north blafts 
 blow, 
 
 And loud the thunder rolls along the fky ; 
 Onward I wander, ftill the child of Woe I 
 
 And all the horrors of the ftorm defy. 
 
 Soother of care, fweet Hope, in life's gay morn 
 Thou ftreweft rofes on my gladfome dayj 
 
 No more, as erft, thy fmiles my fteps adorn, 
 No more, as once; thou cheer'ft me on my way. 
 
 But, in thy (lead, I greet the fiend Defpair, 
 
 And Grief, with folded arms and look refign'd ; 
 
 Hence, vain delufive joys, my bread I bare, 
 And bid your utmoft terrors fill my mind: 
 
 Plajls, blow ye on — Storms, rage without controul j 
 \Vhat are ye to the tempeft of my foul! 
 
 STANZAS.
 
 107 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 W ILL haggard D if appointment low'r 
 
 For ever o'er my profpecls fair? 
 And Melancholy made each hour 
 With the dark pencil of D.efpair ? 
 
 When will the wand'rer, Hope, return 
 To glad again this beating heart ? 
 
 When (hall this bread no longer mourn 
 Its deep-felt wounds from Mis'ry's dart? 
 
 How happy he whofe eafy hours 
 Is lighted by the ftar of Love, 
 
 Who lives beneath its golden pow'rs, 
 Whofe bounded wifhes never rove ; 
 
 Tho' Fortune ne'er with him abides, 
 
 And fummer friends grow cold, and fly 
 The roof where Poverty refides, 
 . Seeking a brighter, warmer Iky, 
 
 Than
 
 108 
 
 Then he, whofe only hope is Love, 
 Whofe peace is in his fair-one's bread ; 
 
 To that he flies, and, like the dove, 
 Finds flielter, and defies the blaft. 
 
 SONNET
 
 10-) 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 l^ET others Stek for glitt'ring ore, 
 And bend at Fortune's varying fhrine j 
 
 To fwell th' accumulating ftore, 
 
 Live mid'ft the vapours of the mine. 
 
 Let Commerce fcour the billowy deep, 
 And mad Ambition plume the war ; 
 
 Let pining Avarice court his heap, 
 And the mock Patriot feek the ftar. 
 
 Me other joys delight : let Love 
 Around my heart his magic fpread, 
 
 By Fancy's glowing fingers wove : 
 Oft wove, alas ! too foon to fade. 
 
 In fuch delightful dreams I'll wade each day, 
 Till life and all it's fleeting joys decay. 
 
 SONNET.
 
 110 
 SONNET 
 
 TO FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 vl THOU, to whom is giv'n the pow'r 
 To footh the furrow'd brow of Care ; 
 
 Whofe fmile can cheer the gloomieft hour, 
 And light the dungeon of Defpair : 
 
 Thy arm can foften Slavery's chain, 
 The lucid tear of Rapture ftart ; 
 
 Give the rude tenant of the defert plain 
 The nobleft tranfport of the feeling heart. 
 
 E'en Love's rapt votary owns thy fwayj 
 Tho' bleft with her his foul ador'd, 
 
 Sighs for the focial hour, the converfe gay, 
 Where thou prefideft at the board. 
 
 Oh, if by thee fuch magic is poflefr, 
 Haften and footh the forrows of this breaft. 
 
 SONNET.
 
 Ill 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 WHY does blind Folly heedlefs cry ? 
 
 To Sentiment is only giv'n 
 The rapt'rous thought, the fwelling figh, 
 
 To tafte a fublun'ry heav'n. 
 
 Oh, could the fons of Dulnefs know 
 The pangs that tear the feeling heart, 
 
 When venom'd Slander aims a blow, 
 Or broken Faith direct its dart. 
 
 When Friend/trip, once fo warm, grows cold, 
 And Love betrays her facred truft; 
 
 Thefe truths to Folly's children told, 
 Would fhew the man of feeling curft. 
 
 Give me, to wafte my future day 
 With eafy, calm Tranquility. 
 
 SONNET
 
 112 
 
 SONNET, 
 
 TO A FRIEND. 
 
 vJh, thou, who from Defpair's dark ftrand 
 My woe-ftruck, fhatter'd bark haft fav'd ; 
 
 Guid'ft it with Friendfhip's fteadying hand, 
 When late the tempeft rav'd : 
 
 When Paffion o'er each accent hung, 
 
 And fram'd the artlefs pray'r ; 
 And Love, the Syren flatt'rer, fung, 
 
 Thou bad'ft the fong beware. 
 
 Caution'd by thee, I fpread my fails, 
 
 And quit the dang'rous fhore ; 
 Now, fafe and under milder gales, 
 
 I'll dare the ftorm no more. 
 
 1 Thy gen'rous kindnefs well demands thefe lays, 
 A«d gratefully my heart the tribute pays.
 
 113 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 JM ARY, the magic of thy foft controul 
 Five tedious years my heart has preft ; 
 
 In forrow and in blifs my anxious foul 
 This ray of Hope poffeft — 
 
 That, fometime, Fortune's fickle ftar 
 Would light me on to Love and thee; 
 
 And tho' by Fate divided far 
 At length reward my conftancy. 
 
 The hafty tale, which late I breath'd 
 
 Into thy lift'ning ear, 
 (My heart, of all its hope bereav'd) 
 
 Was prompted by Defpair. 
 
 Too much this anxious beating heart 
 
 The pains of abfence knew, 
 Again to rilk a cold depart, 
 
 Afi unexplain'd adieu ! 
 
 SONNET.
 
 114 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 1 IS paft — the pleafing vifion's fled, 
 The dream no longer cheats my raviftYd eye j 
 The clouds, that late collected o'er my head, 
 Now darkly deepen on the lurid fky. 
 
 Tho* you amid the ftorm can ftand 
 
 Unmov'd, and calmly view the wreck > 
 
 In cold philofophy extend your hand, 
 And " keep the ruby on your cheek ;" 
 
 No adamantine (hield protects my heart, 
 Dull Apathy has ne'er difgrac'd her feat -, 
 
 She feels her right at woes to ftart, 
 
 And own her forrows, when they wildly beat. 
 
 Can I, then, bid the burning tear to ceafe, 
 When loling thee fo deeply wounds my peace I 
 
 SONNE!.
 
 115 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 W HY twines the Serpent of Defpair, 
 Thus cold, around my heart ? 
 
 Why thus unbidden falls the tear ? 
 Why goads Affliction's dart ? 
 
 But, that I'm doom'd to fee, 
 
 Diftrefs'd, thy fatal charms ; 
 And to reflect the heavens decree 
 
 Another to your arms ! 
 
 Tho' Fate deny us blifs to know, 
 
 And Death the lips of Love may feal, 
 
 Friendfhip may yet a balm beftow 
 To wounds, no ruder hand can heal. 
 
 Oh, then, my forrows to remove, 
 Give me thy Friendihip, pure as Love I 
 
 12 TO
 
 116 
 
 TO MARIA. 
 
 W HY will Maria, cruel, ftill believe 
 
 That my firm truth will ever know decay ? 
 Oh, let th' unwelcome thought no longer grieve— 
 Chafe fuch intrufions from thy breaft away ! 
 
 Sooner mall Philomela quit her gloom, 
 And carol, jocund, to the day's bright beam -, 
 
 Sooner the Mifer leave his heaps, his home, 
 And riot wild in Diffipation's ftream : 
 
 Sooner yon orb of fire forget to fhine, 
 
 Forfake his annual courfe around the world; 
 
 The moon her wave-compelling power relign ; 
 And every ftar be into darknefs hurl'd ! 
 
 When my love proves not to Maria true, 
 
 Then muft my heart's warm ftream forget to flow. 
 
 THE
 
 117 
 
 THE following Ode of the Passions, which has 
 procured fo much and fuch deferved celebrity 
 to the name of Collins, has been noticed to 
 omit the pallion.of Love, which, perhaps, af- 
 fords of all others the moft ample fcope to the 
 powers of affecting and appropriate defcription. 
 Could fuch an omiffion be reafonably imputed to 
 an inability in the Poet to delineate the features 
 .of a paffion at once fo common and fo fublime, 
 the following attempt would never have appear- 
 ed. No one, however, that is converfant with 
 the writings of that elegant and plaintive Poet, 
 will afcribe its omiffion to any fuch caufe; but 
 whatever may have occafioned it, the difficulty 
 is not leifened to any effort which may be made 
 to fupply the deficiency. The prefent Writer, 
 having fome time fmce thrown together a few 
 lines on the fubjecl:, has here ventured to fubmit 
 them, with the utmoft diffidence, to the public 
 eye. Could he catch ought of that tendernefs 
 of Feeling, or warmth of Fancy, which pervades 
 the Ode itfelf, he would with infinitely lefs re- 
 
 I 3 luclance
 
 118 
 
 lu&ance have contrafted the humble Effufions of 
 his own Mufe with the elegant and expreflive 
 fweetnefs of thofe Numbers he has aimed, he fears, 
 fo ineffectually to imitate. 
 
 The Paflion of Scorn, it will be feen, is like- 
 wife added ; it having been thought that its in- 
 troduction would give the Poem a more finiftied 
 appearance. The prefent endeavour to reprefent 
 it may, perhaps, have the merit of fuggefting the 
 idea to fome happier talent, better qualified to do 
 it juftice. 
 
 AN
 
 119 
 
 THE PASSIONS. ANODE. 
 
 W HEN MUSIC, heavenly maid, was young, 
 While yet in early Greece fhefung, 
 The Paflions oft, to hear her (hell, 
 Throng'd around her magic cell, 
 Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting, 
 Pofleft beyond the Mufe's painting ; 
 By turns they felt the glowing mind 
 Difturb'd, delighted, rais'd refin'd : 
 Till once, 'tis faid, when all were fir'd, 
 Fill'd with fury, rapt, infpir'd, 
 From the fupporting myrtles round 
 They fnatch'd her inftruments of found; 
 And as they oft had heard apart 
 Sweet leffons of her forceful art, 
 Each, for MADNESS rul'd the hour, 
 Would prove his own expreffive power. 
 
 Firft FEAR his hand, its fkill to try, 
 Amid the chords bewilder'd laid, 
 And back recoil'd, he knew not why, 
 Ev'n at the found himfelf had made. 
 
 I 4 Next
 
 120 
 
 Next ANGER rufh'd, his eyes on fire, 
 In lightnings own'd his fecret flings, 
 In one rude clafh he flruck the lyre, 
 And fvvept with hurried hand the firings. 
 
 With woful meafures wan DESPAIR, 
 Low fullen founds his grief beguil'd, 
 A folemn, flrange, and mingled air ; 
 'Twas fad by fits, by ftarts 'twas wild. 
 
 But thou ! oh, HOPE, with eyes fo fair, 
 
 What was thy delighted meafure ? 
 
 Still it whifper'd promis'd pleafure. 
 
 And bade the lovely fcenes at diflance hail! 
 
 Still would her touch the drain prolong, 
 
 And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, 
 
 She call'd on ECHO flill through all the fongj 
 
 And where her fweeteft theme fhe chofe, 
 
 A foft refponfive voice was heard at every clofe, 
 
 And HOPE, enchanted, fmil'd and wav'd her golden 
 
 hair, 
 And longer had fhe fung — but, with a frown, 
 
 REVENGE
 
 121 
 
 REVENGE impatient rofe ; 
 
 He threw his blood-ftain'd fword in thunder down, 
 
 And, with a withering look, 
 
 The war-denouncing trumpet took, 
 
 And blew a blaft fo loud and dread, 
 
 Were ne'er prophetic founds fo full of woe. 
 
 And ever and anon he beat 
 
 The doubling drum with furious heat; 
 
 And though fometimes, each dreary paufe between, 
 
 Dejeaed PITY, at his fide, 
 
 Her foul-fubduing voice applied, 
 
 Yet ftill he kept his wild unalter'd mien, 
 
 While each ftrain'd ball of fight feem'd 
 
 Burfting from his head. 
 
 * With look of mingled fmile and frown, 
 ' Leaving his {lately place, 
 
 ' With port ereft, and meafur'd pace, 
 
 < Affeaed SCORN came down: 
 
 ' With haughty hand he ftruck the lyre, 
 
 * Nor ftaid its folemn chords among, 
 ' But inftant, as the flight-ftruck w T ire 
 
 Sent
 
 122 
 
 Sent forth its dulcet found, 
 
 Rais'd his difdainful lip, and threw it to the 
 ground. 
 
 Scarce did the glitt'ring chords their cadence clofe, 
 
 When LOVE, fweet fmiling rofe, 
 
 Array'd in Beauty's pride ; 
 
 He to the harp his timid hand apply 'd, 
 
 And wak'd its feraph ftrain ; 
 
 The am'rous Echoes catch th' ecftatic notes, 
 
 And as on the impatient air 
 
 The fymphony celeftial floats, 
 
 Vie the wild warblings longer!: to retain ; 
 
 The'Graces dance in fprightlier round, 
 
 And print with lighter ftep the ground. 
 
 All Nature feems with livelier warmth to glow ; 
 
 Frefh myrtle binds each polifh'd brow, 
 
 And fwifter fly the circling hours : 
 
 The ruder Pajfions footh'd, amaz'd 
 
 Confefs his more than mortal powers : 
 
 With wild unfteady eye they gaz'd ; 
 
 'And
 
 123 
 
 * And, as to the fapphire Ikies 
 
 * Theliquid notes tranfportive rife, 
 ' With momentary rapture own 
 
 * Their tort'ring fceptre broke, their potent empire 
 
 gone !' 
 
 Thy numbers, JEALOUSY, to nought were fix'd ; 
 Sad proof of thy diftrefsful ftate j ■ 
 Of differing themes the veering fong was mix'd, 
 And now it courted Love, now raving call'd on 
 Hate. 
 
 With eyes uprais'd, as one infpir'd, 
 Pale MELANCHOLY fat retir'd, 
 And from her wild, fequefter'd feat, 
 In notes, by diftance made more fweet, 
 Pour'd through the mellow horn her penfive foul : 
 And darning foft from rocks around, 
 Bubbling runnels join'd the found ; 
 Through glades and glooms the mingled meafure 
 ftole; 
 
 Or
 
 124 
 
 Or o'er fome haunted ftreams, with fond delay, 
 (Round an holy calm diffufmg, 
 Love of peace, and lonely mufing,) 
 In hollow murmurs died away. 
 
 But, oh, how alter'd was it's fprightlier tone, 
 When CHEARFULNKSS, a nymph of healthieft 
 
 hue, 
 Her bow acrofs her moulder flung, 
 Her bufkins gemm'd with morning dew, 
 Blew an afpiring air, that dale and thicket rung, 
 The hunters' call, to Faun and Dryad known . 
 The oak-crown'd Sifters, and their chafte-ey'd Queen, 
 Satyrs and fylvan boys were feen 
 Peeping from forth their alleys green ; 
 Brown Exercife rejoiced to hear, 
 And Sport leapt up, and feiz'd his beechen fpear. 
 
 Laft came JOY's ecftatic triat: 
 
 He, with viny crown advancing, 
 
 Firft to the lively pipe his hand addreft, 
 
 But foon he faw the brifk, awak'ning viol, 
 
 Whofe fweet entrancing voice he lov'd the beft. 
 
 They
 
 125 
 
 They would have thought, who heard the firain, 
 They faw in Tempe's vale her native maids, 
 Amidit the feftal-founding fhades, 
 To fome unwearied minftrel dancing, 
 While as his flying fingers kifs'd the firings, 
 Love fram'd with Mirth a gay fantaftic round ; 
 Loofe were her trefles feen, her zone unbound ; 
 And he, amidft his frolic play, 
 As if he would the charming air repay, 
 Shook thoufand odours from his dewy wings. 
 
 Oh ! MUSIC, fphere-defcended maid, 
 Friend of Pleafure, Wifdom's aid, 
 Why, Goddefs, why, to us deny'd, 
 Lay'ft thou thy ancient lyre afide ? 
 As in that lov'd Athenian bower, 
 You learn'd an all-commanding power; 
 Thy mimic foul, oh, Nymph endear'd, 
 Can well recal what then it heard, 
 Where is thy native fimple heart 
 Devote to Virtue, Fancy, Art? 
 Arife, as in that elder time, 
 Warm, energic, chalte, fublimef 
 
 Thv
 
 126 
 
 Thy wonders, in that god-like age, 
 Fill thy recording Sifter's page. 
 Tis laid, and I believe the tale, 
 Thy humbled reed could more prevail, 
 Had more of ftrength, diviner rage, 
 Than all which charms this laggard age ; 
 Ev'n all at once together found, 
 Csecilia's mingled world of found. 
 Oh, bid our vain endeavours ceafe, 
 Revive the juft defigns of Greece, 
 Return in all thy fimple ftate, 
 Confirm the tales her fons relate. 
 
 And
 
 1127 
 
 And now, 
 SWEET POETRY, thou lovelieft maid, 
 Still firft to fly where wordly cares invade, 
 Unfit, in thefe degenerate days of fhame, 
 To catch the heart, or ftrike for honeft fame: 
 Dear charming Nymph, neglected and decry'd; 
 My fhame in crowds, my folitary pride ; 
 Thou fource of all my blifs, of all my woe, 
 That found'ft me poor at firft, and keeps me fo j 
 Thou guide, by which the nobler arts excel,. 
 Thou nurfe of ever virtue, fare thee well ! 
 
 r'/wrm-Tmw-i-x
 
 129 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Invocation to Fancy 3 
 
 Addrefs to the Spirit of Chatterton .... 7 
 
 Ode to Poverty 11 
 
 Ode to the Memory of War ton ...... 14 
 
 Farewell to Reflection 17 
 
 Ode to Pity 19 
 
 Stanzas zvritten on the Thames ..... 22 
 
 Hymn to Night 24 
 
 Ryno and Alpin 32 
 
 The Death of Connal 39 
 
 Lines on a Favourite Cat . ^ . . . . 45 
 
 A Prayer to Dif appointment 47 
 
 Parody on a Ballad of Shenjlone .... 51 
 
 Ode to Hope 56 
 
 The Return 59 
 
 K Ode
 
 130 
 
 Ode to Beauty 61 
 
 Addrefs to a Sheet of Paper 63 
 
 Mrs. Siddons 64 
 
 Mifs Hannah More 65 
 
 The Voyager 66 
 
 Stanzas to her zvho witl bejl under/land them . 61 
 
 Elegy on Leaving Richmond, Surry ... 70 
 
 Elegy to Maria 16 
 
 The Mufe Recalled 79 
 
 Eafe, an Epijlle 81 
 
 Epigrams, 8Cc 94, to 98 
 
 Song . . . .* 99 
 
 Ballad 100 
 
 Sonnets , . . . 104, to 11$ 
 
 Stanzas 107 
 
 To Maria 116 
 
 OdeforMufic 1 19 
 
 Lo idem -. Priced by M. Ritchie, Middle Street, Cloth Fair.
 
 ■v#5£ 
 
 * ' h 
 
 
 '^" iS**-"/ 
 
 * *ssgi«
 
 \JA 
 
 H 
 
 AA 
 
 000 081687 
 
 ^p