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 I W E N S L E Y D A L E, 
 
 I PLEASURES OF SENSIBIUTY, &G. 
 
 BV JEREMIAH WILIilS. 
 PrinSU. 6d. 
 
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 at- 
 
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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 M^ ■'30
 
 •#
 
 BEAUTIES 
 
 or 
 
 WENSLEYDALE, 
 
 llltasurrg of Srnieitiiilits, 
 
 4c. 
 
 BV JEREMIAH WILLIS. 
 
 LET NOT MERIT LIE BURIED IN OBSCURITY, NOR POVERTIT 
 GO ny UNREGARDED. 
 
 RICHMOND: 
 PR1^■TED BY MATTHEW BELL, FINKLE-STREET, 
 
 1838.
 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The great difficulties a writer has to encounter on any 
 subject of importance, the scanty supply of materials with which 
 he may be furnished, are in themselves sufficient almost to deter 
 him from the work. Yet in these hinderances of excitement, 
 hope beckons him to proceed, — what is he to do ? nothing ven- 
 ture, nothing have, — so it is, — the experiment must be made — 
 the plan must be executed, then sent into the world to try its 
 fortune ; how many works from time to time, have been sent out 
 in this way, some indeed that have brought honour to the under- 
 taker, but others, of which the greater number, it perhaps would 
 have been as well, if they had never made their appearance. 
 
 Come then honest truth ! say what was the motive 
 which induced me to propose these poems to the public consi- 
 deration, was it pride ? no ; was it vanity ? no ; was it fame ? no ; 
 what was it then ? to these questions I will answer with sincer- 
 ity, in the language of Tim Bobbin, 
 
 " Some write for pleasure, some for spite, 
 But want of money makes mc write." 
 
 Iiere then courteous reader, is the fact as it stands on record, and 
 now for further explanations. 
 A 
 
 8GG3^3
 
 IV PREFACE. 
 
 I am a very poor man, consequently there may arise a 
 motive for my wish to have money, question, are my abilities 
 adequate to my means of procuring it in this way ? answer, that 
 can only be ascertained by the success the work may meet with 
 when it is published, and at the same time I can have no objec- 
 tions if I meet with praise as well as pence in my journey. 
 
 Upon a review of what I have done, there is one conso- 
 lation comes in my way, I have endeavoured to detail facts, 
 without the least intention to give offence, how far I have suc- 
 ceeded hereafter must determine, from the action judge the 
 motive, yet all motives are not understood from the actions ; be 
 it also known, I have no friend to advise with in this affair, 
 unaided, unassisted, but by thee, genius of my fate, who takes 
 a part in all my life concerns, but this will do, or what the muse 
 in her kind approaches may be pleased to confer upon me, why 
 then did I say I had no friend? The little learning I have 
 obtained from long practice and experience with the world, 
 together with what share nature may also have added, may not 
 sufBciently entitle me to the notice of the great, neither do I 
 expect to be passed by with indifference. The original copies 
 which are here presented (and they are certainly my own, 
 metliinks the critic here may say no one disputes it,) on the list 
 will need some comment: "man know thyself,'' says Pope. 
 And an author should know himself, as to his pretensions, and 
 cannot be too humble upon the examination, this certainly should 
 be the consideration on his first setting out. 'i'he world is a 
 great stage, and although there are many j)eople, yet, but very 
 few comparatively speaking are good actors. With respect to the 
 " Beauties of Wensleydale," it must be confessed, they will 
 appear to an attentive eye from a local situation, more attractive 
 than I liavo lieen able to describe, but in this, as in most others 
 of my poems, 1 have not forgotten that the Lord is the maker.
 
 PREFACE. V 
 
 and as a certain person once said to me, " whatever we do, what 
 ever we say, think, or write, it ought to to be done to the honour 
 and glory of God." But this is not always attended to, — 
 Mr. Maude wrote a book on "\Vonsleydale,"the great outlines as 
 well as interior beauty, the description he gives as well as the 
 comparison between this and Wharfedale, did honour to iiis 
 understanding. However in some things which he was pleased 
 to omit, I have taken upon me to relate ; some things I have 
 also had very little opportunity of examining, and therefore I 
 have not noticed them here. 
 
 Upon the whole of tlie description I will speak in the 
 words of Dr. Johnson. " For negligence or deficiency, I have 
 perhaps not need of more apology than the nature of the work 
 will furnish ; I have left that inaccurate which was never made 
 exact, and that imperfect which never was completed." 
 
 With respect to "Askrigg Election'' it took place on the 
 date mentioned before the introduction of the poem, and ended 
 the day after. 
 
 The incidental occurrences in connexion with that trans- 
 action offered themselves to my notice and as the muse was willing 
 so was I to make something of it, to commemorate the event. 
 
 The " Poetical Perplexities,'' which innumerably suggest 
 themselves in wonderful display on the contemplation of a poem, 
 and the description I have given of their unmeaning or obscure 
 importance, will be my excuse for introducing thorn. 
 
 The "Pleasures of Sensibility," if it is worthy of the title 
 I have given it, arose from having seen in print, two books, one 
 the "Pleasures of Memory," by Rogers, a true poet, and tJie other 
 the "Pleasures of Hope," by Campbell, of equal celebrity, T then 
 thought (and why not), can I also do something in that way, to 
 get me a name on the earth, but by the by, how to start on the 
 important business, was the question! 1 never read either of their
 
 vi PREFACE. 
 
 books, but what 1 bad seen in the shop windows through the 
 glass, and once a few lines in a small edition of Campbell. But 
 as Burns was ever my favourite, who "lifted up his unassuming 
 head to meet the storm," so I determined to employ all the 
 energy I was master of, and make the bold attempt, presuming 
 not even to look at a comparison with either of theirs, 1 have 
 introduced it upon the list, and such as it is, it is. 
 
 The story of the "Harp Player," is undoubtedly obscure, 
 nor can it be ascertained now as a matter of fact, but it is not 
 unlikely in by-gone days, but that it may have produced some- 
 thing similar, nor is it entirely the production of imagination. 
 
 The "Village Bells,'' will meet with little difficulty to be 
 understood, and those who are lovers of music will more readily 
 grant me the belief that the amusing exercise of bell-ringing, and 
 those sounds heard at a distance from the village steeple, might 
 have given rise to the little poem in question. 
 
 The "Wedding Day," of more serious importance than is 
 generally looked at, is a day (not unfrequently) of mirth and 
 joy, exercising the rights of hospitality, and giving way to a 
 variety of amusements; there cannot be much harm in being 
 cheerful, for their is plenty of trouble and care in this uncertain 
 life, but then the chief concern ought to be the preparation for 
 those enjoyments, which are to be lasting, however when I got 
 married, no such consideration entered into my foolish heart, 
 I looked fonvard with hope nor saw the storm, nor cared for its 
 approach, perhaps good after all may be the consequence at last ; 
 I doubt it not ; therefore turn from the evil way and thou shalt 
 do well. In writing the catalogue of the attendants after the 
 marriage ceremony, may be rather out of the way, but I could 
 not go beyond the direction of the muse, as it was evident she 
 meant it so to be, nor can it be doubted, (however it need not) 
 that such a thing should happen in a country town.
 
 PREFACE. vii 
 
 Death the most certain, yet the m«st solemn in its ap- 
 proach to mankind, how little is it regarded amidst the busy 
 scenes of life, look at the contrast, how different to the wedding 
 day, nor can we tell how near it is to that day ; imaginary evils 
 ought not to exist, for real ones will come soon enough ; neither 
 ought we to anticipate the misery beforehand — but alas ! how 
 are we prepared for the solemn change ; hence the vital influence 
 of the christian religion ! imparting peace and good will unto 
 man upon earth, taught by the amiable character of Jesus Christ 
 who came to take away the sins of the world, to restore sight to 
 the blind, to make the deaf hear, the lame to walk, tlie dumb to 
 speak, and all by repentance, confessing their sins and believing 
 on his name, preparing such the way to everlasting life, " Blessed 
 are they who havo not seen and yet have believed.'' These 
 consolations are offered to the wise christian, for Christ is the 
 way, the truth, and the life, and whoever they he that so believe, 
 though they be dead, yet shall they live. 
 
 The early death of John Tliistlethwaite, of Bear Park, 
 
 and the mournful appearance of the funeral, (for on that day the 
 
 snow fell fast all around, and into the river whose melancholy 
 
 sound as we passed along, added to the solemnity of the scene,) 
 
 gave rise to this poem ; and how beautiful are the words of Burns, 
 
 " Or like the snow dropp'd in the river, 
 A moment white, then gone for ever.'' 
 
 To a curious and particular observation on the incidents 
 of human life, how they seem to operate on the great scale of 
 action ! to bring us to our end, —the cradle of infancy, progres- 
 sive through the varied scenes of the great stage, — then falls 
 away into the silent dust ! and such is the state of man, feeble and 
 decrepit in old age, and then the act is over. Death in his cold 
 embrace, possesses that once fine form, and turning to the tragic 
 muse, confirms the solemn deed. 
 a2
 
 vili PREFACE. 
 
 If any remarks may be made upon the poems before you, 
 (and it is more than likely there will,) all tliat I am now able to 
 advance in defence of tliem, is, that where I am found to be de- 
 ficient, I trust your good nature will make allowance, where I 
 have been too flattering you will excuse, and where I have been 
 too tedious, forgive. With respect to notes or other explanations, 
 1 am not furnished with more than what are now laid before you, 
 and what may still be wanting, let time and circumstances pro- 
 vide. And now to make a long story short, which is often done 
 when near the end of it, 1 will remark, that the work thus pre- 
 sented to your better judgment, has been attended with much 
 inconvenience, much time, and much labour, and if it should 
 not prove successful, or approved of, it is the first offence, and 
 shall be the last, and I may perhaps have time enough to lament 
 my folly. 
 
 JEREMIAH WILLIS.
 
 AN AUTHOR'S PrcOSPECTS. 
 
 Who write for fame and not for favour, 
 May get from both if they are clever, 
 For such the fancy is of either. 
 If they write ill they get from neither. 
 And therefore he who would adventure, 
 IMust please the public and the printer, 
 And daring all the world to know it, 
 A poet born, or not a poet; 
 Nature will prove him by her fire. 
 As honest truth can prove a liar. 
 Humble and modest in advancing, 
 Loving the truth but no romancing. 
 And if he would prove his pretences. 
 He must be clearly in his senses, 
 Not fret at ills, himself procuring. 
 But must be patient and enduring. 
 Never be found to love much drinking, 
 For there he finds his prospects sinking, 
 Must tell no lies to hurt another, 
 In every man behold a brother ; 
 He must not either be a raiser. 
 Let pity teach him to be wiser,
 
 X AS author's 
 
 For wisdom is the richest treasure, 
 
 In that consists all peace, all pleasure ; 
 
 Uneven roads he must not shy at, 
 
 Nor let the way disturb his quiet, 
 
 For who can tell how far the distance, 
 
 Before he meets with kind assistance ; 
 
 Ah ! let not vanit}' deceive him. 
 
 Lest his good fortune there should leave him, 
 
 By reading books a better chance is. 
 
 But be aware of those romances, 
 
 Alluring books with some sublime in, 
 
 Not always should he spend his time in, 
 
 Convinc'd thaX truth is never frightful, 
 
 But like the morning springs delightful, 
 
 And through the misty veil so sknder. 
 
 The rising sun appears in splendour. 
 
 Never let envy touch his spirit. 
 
 To hear applause at greater merit, 
 
 Nor sigh if some in better way be, 
 
 What is just now not always may be ; 
 
 No dark repining must attend him. 
 
 Let not humility offend him. 
 
 If others frown, resent it never, 
 
 But have a right composure ever, 
 
 And then shall tbo&e who have offended. 
 
 Admire where it was not intended. 
 
 If poverty should touch him nearly. 
 
 Pie then shall find himself but fjueerly, 
 
 For I do know, as I have tried it, 
 
 He must not, cannot always hide it ; 
 
 To be ashamed is but weakness, 
 
 And not to be asham'd is meeknesK, 
 
 How very keen ands]iav])it ]>inclies, 
 
 It takes a man away by inches,
 
 PROSPECTS. XI 
 
 And if it was not for that power, 
 
 Who knows liow far man may endure ; 
 
 The life of poet or of friend too, 
 
 It very soon would put an end to, 
 
 Here patience must step in to cheer him, 
 
 When former friends no more come near him. 
 
 When fortune smiles, loud knocks the door, 
 
 But faintly heard to cheer the poor, 
 
 It makes poor confidence faint-hearted. 
 
 To see those sunshine friends departed ; 
 
 Then who can tell in men who true are. 
 
 Or whether I myself, or you are ? 
 
 The coat so famous fine in beauty. 
 
 Will soon have done its thread-bare duty ; 
 
 The hat so once genteelly cocked, 
 
 To prove the wearer not a blockhead, 
 
 Will soon give way as he shall know it. 
 
 And there he goes the ragged poet, 
 
 For shoes and stockings, and what is worse, 
 
 Why not a penny in his purse ; 
 
 These things in common with his brothers, 
 
 He must endure as well as others, 
 
 And for a crust if he can get it, 
 
 All thankfully receive and eat it ; 
 
 Water is good for poets thinking, 
 
 And will not make them drunk by drinking. 
 
 The head will then be clear and steady, 
 
 And for the work more fit and ready ; 
 
 Then may the muse inspire those pieces, 
 
 The more one reads, one's love increases. 
 
 Which many reading would not tire on, 
 
 No more than reading my Lord Byron, 
 
 Such beauty with such sweetness mixed, 
 
 As has the hearts of true love fixed,
 
 I 
 
 xii AN author's 
 
 And cold indeed I think the heart is, 
 
 Where never such a feeling part is. 
 
 To thee therefore, that would aspire. 
 
 And would that men thy works admire, 
 
 Consider well, the prospect viewing. 
 
 Before thou art the way pursuing, 
 
 Which leads to fortune, — mark the sentence ! 
 
 Or otherwise to long repentance ; 
 
 Yet if thy courage still be stout on't. 
 
 And go thou wilt, I make no doubt on't, 
 
 Then fare thee well, good luck attend tliee. 
 
 And may the muses all befriend thee, 
 
 In every ill, let patience bear it. 
 
 And thine the laurel crown to wear it. 
 
 I 
 
 i
 
 BEAUTIES 
 
 OP 
 
 WENSLE YD ALE. 
 
 Days of llie past, adieu ! and thou fair maid 
 Whose charms still linger in the rural shade, 
 Drest in thy humble undisguised attire, 
 O ! come and bless me with thy native fire ; 
 With me pursue the varied scene, and tell 
 Of charms unequall'd, and belov'd, how well, 
 No more thy robe of melancholy cast, 
 Let time be sweet'ner of the bitter past, 
 Come let me taste thy sweet inspiring sway, 
 Paint the gay scene while soft emotions play. 
 Thus poets often, in a studied rhyme 
 Aspiring write, to get a name in time. 
 Of war, or love, or some expressive thing, 
 Th' inspiring muse alone directs the spring, 
 But here dame nature does the muse invite. 
 Blooming with beauty, and directs her flight ; 
 What could the pencil do, without thy skill, 
 Or rush tiic torrent — or adorn the hill ? 
 B
 
 2 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 Some beauty uuperceiv'd all modest lies, 
 And without thee, from observation dies ; 
 Nature with thee effective plays her part, 
 And best can reach the feelings of the heart. 
 Then aid me, spirit of tliis happy soil, 
 And bless the labours of unceasing toil ; 
 Whilst from this knoll^ where pleasing views extend, 
 Here sit, and point those beauties to thy friend. 
 Grand is the prospect, tower — hamlet — hall — 
 Woods range around, and torrents seen to fall : 
 Yon lofty Penhill, on whose brow is seen 
 The rock that glitters and the pasture green, 
 VVhere mists, sometimes with ev'ning shades are 
 
 spread. 
 Steal on, and make a night cap for liis head ; 
 But when the sun his morning light displays, 
 He doffs his night cap, and due homage pays ; 
 Old yore now glitters to the sunshine ray. 
 And gliding, murmurs to the early day. 
 How can I see, and not express deliglit, 
 Tlie lowly valley and the mountain bright ? 
 
 See Bolton Castle rising on the way, 
 Unhurt by time, and venerably grey ; 
 Who can behold and not the. form admire, 
 Time it defies, and solemn thoughts inspire : 
 Those towers a guide, if lost in thought to stray, 
 And for the natives, oft a clock by day. 
 The landscape glitters as the sunshine springs. 
 And up the lark to Heav'n ascends and sings. 
 WMiy should description ever lose ifs fame ? 
 Wliy beauties bloom and never brouglit to name .? 
 Could I, O Powlett ! see these beauties fade, 
 And with the muse lie idle in the shade .'' 
 
 • Reiimire Scnr.
 
 WENSLKYDALE. .3 
 
 Ye great ones of this rural liappy dale, 
 To you a simple bard uiilblds his tale, 
 And not unmindful of the homage due, 
 JRespectful tells of all lie feels to you : 
 Your woods and handets pleasing well are seen, 
 Whilst yore slow j)asses thro' their shades between, 
 Villages around — long the valley's pride 
 In distance — or adorn the green wood side, 
 Where ev'ry grace that modesty bestows, 
 There, lovely blooming like the early rose : 
 Or piety, a christian's better part 
 Does not disdain to reach the rustic heart, 
 But not the ])rospecl, hill, or rural shade. 
 That man may only love, but he wIjo made 
 Children of earth the great Redeemer praise, 
 There know tiieir God ! and here they pass their days. 
 And as yon caslle tovv'rs in mighty shew 
 Hard by the village peeping from below : 
 So he the mind enriches by his pow'r 
 Far, far beyond the castle or the tower. 
 Behind, around, each winding way pursue, 
 And falls of water in the distant view ; 
 Nature with art the precious store have laid, 
 And wildly blending all with light and shade. 
 There on the left, beneath the rock and high 
 The village Preston, fair is seen to lie. 
 Oft to the traveller upon his way 
 'I'he haunts of man are friendly to the day ; 
 Waving beneath, and worthy to record, 
 Spread the dark woods of Bolton's noble lord ! 
 Where in my youth 1 lov'd to steal along. 
 To hear the ])laintive blackbird tune the song; 
 What thoughtless hours — there pleasant 1 have past 
 Which now to memory give a solemn cast ;
 
 4 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 What happy pastime ev'ry coming year, 
 
 Thy silent walks to me, once very dear, 
 
 But when at night when all was still around, 
 
 And length'ning shadows spread upon the ground, 
 
 Fearful with liasty steps (how strange is fear) 
 
 llunning with my shadow closely near, 
 
 Aud if a leaf but stirred in the tree, 
 
 How like a death-watch did it sound to me ; 
 
 Clear of the wood, how all my fears were gone, 
 
 And I as bold as anv father's son, 
 
 Tlirough the dark walk — a solitary way, 
 
 Appears tho hall* majestic to survey, 
 
 Adorn'd wilJi trees, a noble front appears 
 
 The taste and ornament of former years, 
 
 By labouring,- man, a place remember'd well. 
 
 The beauty r.nd the pride of Wensleydale. 
 
 As onwartl still lies Wensley fair to lame, 
 From whence the dale derives its pleasant name, 
 A noble churcli and noble bridge is there. 
 And rural walks, and hospitable fare. 
 
 Leyburn beyond — of which our folks can tell, 
 No town, the bank or market can excel ; 
 Whose woody heights inspire the muses' love. 
 And there would fancy often ling'ring rove. 
 
 Soutli-east lies Middleham cliarming to survey. 
 And tlie old castle in ruins by the way, 
 Even in ruin, how beautiful to view. 
 Once fum'd in war, historical and true ; 
 Strangers may pause, when but tlie sj)0t is seen. 
 And wonder how it ever could have been. 
 Such is the fate of man and sucli the lot, 
 The strife is over and the war forgot, 
 
 • Scat of the lion. 1'. O. PowlcU.
 
 WENSLEYDALE. 
 
 Crowned with ivy, rusl'ling in the shade, 
 And all is silcni solitary made: 
 Time woiks most strangely in all mortal life. 
 Brings on the act, and then the end of strife ; 
 These castles are most solemn and sublime, 
 And how they bear the stormy blast of time, 
 Ponderous the walls, in olden fashion made, 
 And the prest foot long whispers in the shade. 
 
 From eastern more remote to Fenhill's brow, 
 A pleasant prospect of West Witton now, 
 Across the river farms and groves are seen. 
 With there a shade, and there a sloping green 
 And rising hills, and lofty trees between. 
 
 Yon rural seat* that meets the wand'ring eye 
 With sloping land below, and Pcnhill high ; 
 Fertile around, beneath the rock reclin'd. 
 And wide extends the prospect from behind ; 
 Nothing remains of nature to perform — 
 Rich in description and with friendsliip warm, 
 Fancy may cheer the drooping head awhile, 
 And poverty may find a cause to smile. 
 Yes, h<;re might ijuvns,t with his poetic fire. 
 Confess the charm and all the scene admire. 
 The muse indulgent — tells lier darling child 
 To sing of beauties innocent or wild ; 
 And with that native feeling of his heart, 
 The strange emotions of his soul impart, 
 And 1 must bow to that immortal bard, 
 Who sung of joys lie felt — his dear reward. 
 Declining still or onward as I trace, 
 Or high or low, the expressive well known place 
 
 • Residence of W. J. Anderson, Esq. 
 f 'the Scotch Poet. 
 
 ij2 
 
 }
 
 6 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 Still to llie ardour of my long desire, 
 
 Each beauty rises, as 1 slill admire, 
 
 Within yon temple 1 would court the muse, 
 
 If 1 a place so pleasing well might choose ; 
 
 And there to right devotion pass the time 
 
 In solemn pray'r or inoffensive rhyme ; 
 
 It must not be. so ragged and so poor. 
 
 For me, the hill alone to range, or moor. 
 
 These be my haunts for rhyming or for prayer, "^ 
 
 And find sweet solace from this mortal care, ,' 
 
 Thou shall not covet ; — ponder and beware ! j 
 
 Yon lowly Burton, still more distant lies, 
 Where other waters run, and ])rospects rise ; 
 Sufficient here for me, to mark the way. 
 Wandering the vale, or up the mountain stray, 
 Still the fine prospect either side commands, 
 Here the rich forest — there the fertile lands ; 
 Woods slope the sides, where hills with green are 
 
 spread, 
 And yore soft sounding down its rocky bed ; 
 And here remembrance wakens at the charm, 
 Roused by native feelings strong and warm, 
 Speaks to the soul for ev'ry blessing giv'n, 
 And melts the heart with gratitude to heav'n. 
 Yon castle bank attunes the heart to love. 
 And yon Swale field lair neighbour of the grove, 
 With Thorsby woods the winding way before, 
 Sweet and refreshing on the banks of yore. 
 Fair land declining to where Norgarth lies, 
 As all around a rich repast su])plics ; 
 The stony brook, the rippling waier hides. 
 Where the ricli trout in ])layful motion glides ; 
 Sec Aysgarth finely laid yon height along, 
 And not unwortliy (>f a poet's song.
 
 WENSLEYDALF. 7 
 
 There the briglit sun in early moniiiifj; jjeeps, 
 And llu! last streak of day reflected keeps ; 
 With wood adorning ev'ry side, and where 
 The river steals, in gentle inurnuus there ; 
 Siiall time have pow'r to change the blissful scene, 
 And leave no trace of what so fair has been. 
 
 Thoralby lies low, like some fair flou'r 
 Just peeping forth beneath the dewy show'r, 
 Warm Irom the northern blast, with wood and hill, 
 And where the brook descends to turn the mill, 
 Rich in its soil, compassionate the few, 
 Fair are thy groves that wave their foliage new ; 
 For there are charms within, as well without, 
 And the last sunbeams tinge the hills about. 
 
 Yon Thornton too, with thy fair scar in pride, 
 Yore steals below, and glilt'ring seen to glide, 
 The topmost height of Addleborough high 
 Seems like a cloud, far in the western sky, 
 And thence to other towns of rustic fame. 
 Commands the view, but here I need not name ; 
 These are the outlines only of the whole. 
 Interior beauties now nnist cheer the soul. 
 Descend with me the winding way before. 
 Leave this fine view, and God the great adore : 
 I pass the gate where once a friend retir'd. 
 But he has gone, and is no more admir'd. 
 Or cart or waggon now he hears not there. 
 Quiet he reposes from all worldly care ; 
 That noble house,* with cultivation made, 
 Beneath the bank where trees afford a shade, 
 Redmire must own, the man of former years, 
 And in thy groves, what ornament appears. 
 
 • Residence of T. Other, Esq.
 
 8 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 Now Redniire comes, the beauty of the plain, 
 Fated I am to see thee once again ; 
 Home of my youth, and childhood's early day, 
 Could 1 forget when far from thee away ? 
 No, never yet, the place where I was born, 
 Again to see — again to thee return, 
 The long expected time has come at last, 
 And I review the various scenes I've past : 
 Thou still art dear, and must my verse adorn, 
 Shall spring again — but not those friends return, 
 Infancy still in ev'ry path I see^ 
 Again the throstle sings from yonder tree ; 
 And as the murmuring rivulet I trace, 
 I wonder why, 1 ever left the place, 
 Nay not a stone where seated on, but I 
 Can feel a charm within that stone to lie, 
 And not a bush where little birds would sing, 
 But youth comes back again, oa downy wing : 
 And all the past appears again to me. 
 Except those friends 1 never more shall see, 
 The days that 1 have seen but quicldy gone, 
 Whilsthere I wander — musing and alone. 
 Fresh as the rose, I've past thy groves among. 
 When cowslips came, and summer days were long. 
 Or upwards, innocent, beheld the sky. 
 To view llie clouds with light and shade so high, 
 Or the bright sunbeam touch the level green, 
 Or spread the leaves, or glance the trees between ; 
 In search of flow'rs, wot with the dew of night. 
 Or hear the cuckoo sing with strange deliglit : 
 Oft wand'ring, musing at the great display, 
 Till I was ialed from thy woods away : 
 What many an alter'd form, and change of face, 
 Siucc when I sadly grieving left the place ;
 
 1 
 
 WKNSl.EyDALE. 9 
 
 A silent look is all al last I ste, 
 And all that Uotlinire now adbrds to me. 
 'I'he trees are gone, for lime will tell the tale, 
 And so is he, the beauty of the dale ; 
 Nor those his friends beloved and sinci re, 
 No more on earth shall such again appear ; 
 Like flowr's of spring, awhile to cheer the day, 
 And by and by they all are gone away ; 
 Yon smithy owns no more the master's pow'r^ 
 No hammer sounds within the nailed door, 
 No more with merry song the trade he plies, 
 Nicholson is gone ! low in the earth he lies, 
 All mirth is silent, and but mem'ry dies. 
 There is the school beyond the green, where I 
 First went to read and write, at least to try : 
 My youthful sports again can I embrace, 
 Again repeat the pastimes of the place. 
 And those unlucky tricks we knew so well, 
 And not forgotten, for the muse to tell : 
 Throwing of stones was clever in us boys, 
 And windows breaking with a rattling noise. 
 All such by us was counted charming fun. 
 Then off we set — and laughing as we run. 
 Riding of asses down the village lanes 
 With many a kick in earnest for our pains ; 
 Pins we had for spurs, with these astride, 
 Boldly we ventvn-M all we found to ride. 
 Lies there a charm of what we know has been, 
 Or is it pity mourns the loss nnseen .? 
 Those tender ties no more shall pleasure bring. 
 The sweets are over but have left the sting. 
 Now to the kirk* with silent step and pain, 
 There meditate the graves of mortal men ; 
 
 • Reilniirc Chaiiel.
 
 10 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 Those hanging bells, exposM to open air, 
 
 What sad reflections rise to see them there : 
 
 What solemn tones from nisl'ling winds will flow, 
 
 As pensive here, I look on all below^ ! 
 
 And ye, whose graves long time has passed o'er, 
 
 The day of mirth, you now must know no more, 
 
 How silent ! ah how silent is your sleep, 
 
 The pensive muse must here behold and weep ! 
 
 Quiet side by side, each grassy bed, 
 
 The T^ative covering of the silent dead ; 
 
 The father, brother, friend or children dear, "^ 
 
 In undisturbed rest lie mould'ring here, /- 
 
 Of worldly passions now no more in fear ! ) 
 
 But ah ! where is thy grave, my bosom friend, 
 
 And when shall mine — like thy long troubles end ? 
 
 This is the spot and sacred shall it be, 
 
 The tear of pity must 1 shed for thee ? 
 
 'J'lie muse as mournful witness of the scene, 
 
 Shall gently strew thy bed with evergreen. 
 
 At morn or night the solemn tribute pay. 
 
 For thee departed, from thy friend away, 
 
 Although no ornamental stone may rise 
 
 'J'o tell of thee, in memory here lies ; 
 
 Or sacred in the time worn letters read, 
 
 To shew the living tlie depart(>d dead ; 
 
 Yet I alone companion of thy care, 
 
 Will mourn thy iate, and hither oft repair ; 
 
 Sweet as the spring when ev'ry flow'r is sweet, 
 
 Shall thoughts of thee;, adorn thy last retreat; 
 
 And hcav'n attesting a poor morlal's love. 
 
 May kindly witness my regard above ; 
 
 lint from this silent melancholy place, 
 
 Again I seek, aiiother scene to trace.
 
 WENSLEYDALE. 11 
 
 Yon liouse and mill so luinible and obscure, 
 And near the ridgy bank ot" wand'riug yore, 
 Where once the miller merry and sincere, 
 Kept the mill going, many a passing year; 
 And well 1 know the once esteemed time, 
 When 1 did love to hear his joking rhyme ; 
 VV^iy, did he leave at all, this liappy spot. 
 For he had riches where the most have not ? 
 But he must needs another fortune try, 
 And to another clime, retire, and die. 
 The mill by yonder thorn, hangs o'er the deep. 
 And stones hang loose, and still their places keep. 
 Another master now thy place supplies. 
 And for the fortune left bcdiind, he tries. 
 Still is the mill clack busy going, heard, 
 And the old wheel by falling water stirr'd, 
 That winding path down ih"? steep bank before, 
 Leads to the well — upon the brink of yore ; 
 Thy well, O ! Redmire, shall be pleasant long, 
 And not unworthy of a poet's song; 
 A virtue still within thy bosom lies. 
 Health to the sick and pleasure to the wise ; 
 Did not a former poet* tell of thee, 
 And other little things he left for me ; 
 His work of merit with the great shall shine, 
 Whilst he who reads, may soon be tir'd with mine ; 
 The village youth to taste thy water came. 
 Health in their looks and beauty without shame, 
 There to repose and pass the pleasant time. 
 Whilst oft sweet sounding, Wensley bells would 
 
 chime, 
 Adieu ! ye banks, where rural joy has been, 
 And hope of bliss, I never yet have seen ; 
 
 * Mr. Maude.
 
 12 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 Onward I rove, if upward to suvvey, 
 
 Whilst light and health, direct my wearv way. 
 
 There Kedmire force from whence the rainy sound, 
 
 Hollow and deep and shaded all around ; 
 
 The black, slow stealing water, wand'ring wide, 
 
 With shady trees and rocks on either side ; 
 
 'J'his is a spot well suited for despair, 
 
 And ghosts might wander undisturbed there. 
 
 When wintry floods, and dreary nights begin, 
 
 ! what a mournful wild dismaying din ! 
 The yellow leaves bestrew the sandy shore. 
 And through the night, oft heard the river roar, 
 Then sounding far, echo the banks among, 
 Whilst wreck of leaves, and stubble sweep along. 
 But now from rock to rock with cautious tread, 
 
 1 trace those beauties, water long has made. 
 Deep, dark, and solemn as it passing flows, 
 And shady woods that keep a still re])ose ; 
 Now opening as the sunshine clearer falls, 
 The grand attractive scene* of nature calls. 
 Here then I gaze with wonder and delight, 
 Here then I pause, before I dare to write, 
 Not Niagara rapid as it flies,t 
 
 Nor dismal sounds that from its falls arise ; 
 Nor clouds that darken the all cheering sun, 
 Nor foam nor thunder as its waters run, 
 Can with this fall in native charms compare. 
 Although the muse allows an equal share ; 
 It is a picture nothing can excel, 
 Nature has done her part, surpassing well ; 
 The streaming water step by step descends. 
 The crusted rock into the centre bends : 
 
 • Aysgarth Force. f Falls in America.
 
 WENSLEYDALE. 13 
 
 And flowing witli a soft and soothing sonnd, 
 While sweetest music gently steals around. 
 Then falls away, the distance breaking swell. 
 In spotted foam along the rocky dell ; 
 Passing yon house,* that skirls the green wood side 
 Thence flows along in nalivc hiunble pride : 
 That house where first by kindly fortune led, 
 I found a welcome, for they gave me bread ; 
 The cooling breeze from ev'ry graceful tree, 
 Refreshing from the top falls down to thee ; 
 Fantastic forms that rise above the stream, 
 Embellish'd by the sun's reflected beam ; 
 Whilst from the hollow sides, in many round, 
 Redoubling echoes catch the pleasing sound : j 
 But if when winter darkens on the air. 
 And should travellers sometimes wander there, 
 A diflferent scene may chance to meet the eye, 
 The rushing torrent thund'ring through the sky 
 Willi as the wintry wind it sweeps along. 
 Rapid in pow'r, and as the thunder strong. 
 Delightful sounds, what joy do they impart. 
 To cheer and sooth the poet's musing heart. 
 When I behold the floods in endless roar 
 Dash from the rocks, my cares I feel no more. 
 Now up the wood whose green leaves yet are spread. 
 And where by fancy I am often led; 
 The changing beauties regularly rise, 
 And rock and woody scene below me lies ; 
 And here to crown the picture, fresh and bright, 
 Yon humble churcli of Aysgarth meets the sight ; 
 Beautiful enough, and worthy t' admire, 
 Drest in more decent countrified attire ; 
 
 * Seat of Wm. 'W'ray, Esq. 
 B
 
 14 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 From whence, when I am musing and alone, 
 '1 lie bells shall sooth me, with their plaintive tone, 
 And cheer the village folks, as ling'ring there, 
 Or send the tuneful peal, for Sunday praj'r. 
 Soul of the pensive bard with passions warm, 
 To all the past they give a double charm ; 
 How often shall I hear their tones repeat, 
 And through the leafy wood ring softly sweet ; 
 From rock to rock, or up or down the way, 
 Whilst waters steal along, and answ'riug play, 
 Or in those moody fits, or joys of mine 
 Watch fisher Willie throw the tempting line ; 
 Fearless the hidden holes he wanders o'er, 
 Till the sly trout is captur'd on the sliore ; 
 And thou fair bridge— the ornament of yore, 
 The church above, ascending steps before. 
 And near the mill upon the rocky steep. 
 Where oft the noise of tumbling waters deep, 
 Ihiue arches stretching in majestic pride, 
 From whence beneath old yore is seen to glide ; 
 And just above, romantic Bearpark see, 
 Where cascade waters falling down to thee 
 In cooling groves ; fair rising high appear. 
 With frequent falls the echoing water near. 
 As westward stilV the lovely prospect lies. 
 Till distant shades, and the blue summits rise. 
 On yonder hill,* whose green top mounts the sky, 
 Where pricMy thistles grow and wild birds ily : 
 Th' extended scene I liasten to survey, 
 And view the distant mountains far away, 
 Watching the sunbeam sinking in the west. 
 Where peace an j glory seem at once to rest. 
 
 • Aildleborough.
 
 WENSLEYDALE. 15 
 
 How rich tlie prospect — with tliy fading light, 
 How rich the scene — the tranquil scene of night, 
 When weary lahonr with the day is done, 
 And for the night, retiring witli the sun : 
 What distant towns, how peaceful to admire, 
 Fading in ])r()spect as the rays retire ; 
 Breathes tlie wild air in whispers all around. 
 And only heard some smithy's hannner sound : 
 Again at morn — from nature's sweet repose, 
 The day begins fresh beauties to disclose ; 
 From hill to hill the misty clouds remove. 
 And smiles the sun, just peeping from above; 
 Yon water* gleaming to the early ray, 
 Spreads wkhi among the hills, reflecting day ! 
 'J'lie hills arising on all sides in show, 
 in shadows answ'ring to their tops below. 
 Or hall, or rock, or distant village town, 
 'I'here are reflected, and but seen to drown ; 
 Beauty is there, unfading with the year. 
 Such as 1 have seen, when I was near. 
 Macucett, or Busk, or Counterside, or more, 
 Attractive once — when 1 was there before ; 
 For Hawes, and other rural towns of fame, 
 1 cannot well describe, nor need I name : 
 
 There Bainbridge next a stirring little town, 
 Where rolls the rippling river water down. 
 
 Warton, how little by the river side. 
 Yet has a name, it cannot be denied. 
 
 Next Askrigg, rising beautiful and gay. 
 Well known to travellers who go that way : 
 Have you not heard of Askrigg's fam'd sheep fair, 
 In summer time, when all our folks are there, 
 
 * Simmer water.
 
 16 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 What cattle in description range about, 
 Some with long horns 1 thinli, and some without ; 
 What sheep in number line the roads along, 
 And what attention lo be tliere, and lln-ong. 
 
 Yon Kiiappa Hall they say, long time has stood, 
 Tn silence peeps beneath the scar and wood ; 
 To range along, Wood Mall with thee compare, 
 Inviliug walks and each delight is there ; 
 The pleasing way diversified and still. 
 And just behind the sloping moorland hill. 
 
 Biit now to Carperby, my present home. 
 Unknown to where my future lot to roam ; 
 Consider then what hours of time are lost, 
 And try lo uiake ol" what remains the most. 
 Upon these liigher upland scenes retrace, 
 Meadow and pasture, rock and rustic place. 
 Water from uowy spriugs distilling clear. 
 Beauty is her<!, unfading with the year. 
 When spring, bright gleaming from the blue serene 
 llobes the vast woods, and paints the verdant scene, 
 How sweetly pleasing is the morning sun, 
 The toil within the laud again begun. 
 Warms into life the songsters of the sliade. 
 Glows in the brooks and ev'ry grassy blade ; 
 All nature rises at the glad return. 
 And Flora is no longer seen to mourn ; 
 The l)usy bee — a fickle courtier roves — 
 Kisses tiie flow'ry cup — unkindly loves. 
 Yet leaves a charm as buzzing round and round, 
 Attentive on the ear — a sunnuer sound, 
 Meeting on silken wing the early breeze. 
 Whilst flowers ])erfium! the way nniong the trees: 
 Thus kindly he who gives all nature birth, 
 And sends the blessed light upon the earth ;
 
 so. ^ 
 
 WENSLEYDALE. 17 
 
 The deep blue sky, all beautiful above, 
 
 Speaks of" tlio way to his eternal love ; 
 
 What grateful thanks to him who gives the day, 
 
 And speaks within the soul — all this we may, 
 
 When summer comes the rising crops appear. 
 
 And children in the wood the cuckoo hear: 
 
 Mowers pre])arG their scythes, and go. 
 
 The purple Jlow'rs are cut — the grass laid low, 
 
 And time with his sharp scythe, with man does so. 
 
 How the sweet blossoms all the trees adorn. 
 
 How sweetly promising the rising corn ; 
 
 The sunshine glitters on the walls and tow'rs. 
 
 And sultry heat brings often thunder show'rs ; 
 
 Far in the south I trace it brewing high. 
 
 Black and oppressive, nearing on the sky ; 
 
 Then from some deeper cloud a stream of light 
 
 Will steal among the clouds and mock the sight, 
 
 And as in silence at that solemn time. 
 
 The imposing sky ?s awful and sublime, 
 
 It makes the soul to feel a sudden fear. 
 
 As if the judge of all the world was near ; 
 
 Then comes the light'ning through the murky cloud, 
 
 Quickly succeeds the mighty thunder loud, 
 
 Rolls over head and shakes the solid ground, 
 
 Fear walks abroad and saddens all around ; 
 
 Blest is the man when danger is abroad, 
 
 Who feels a calm within, and trusts in God, 
 
 A peaceful mind — what better lot can be, 
 
 Sufficient this, at least it is to me : 
 
 In all the earth it is the better share 
 
 Of all the mind may wish for, or may care, 
 
 But much I fear the tresspass of the heart, 
 
 And worldly pleasures have the greater part : 
 
 C2
 
 18 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 Refreshing show'is descend, the storm is past, 
 
 No more the sky with heavy ch)ud is cast ; 
 
 Haytime liovv sweet — the village yonth how throng. 
 
 All hands are busy, tossing it along : 
 
 Whilst from the hedges breathing sweet perfume. 
 
 Profusely scatter'd, roses wildly bloom, 
 
 Mirth and good humour tell just then, how blest, 
 
 And ev'n the farmer laughs to join the I'est. 
 
 The waving corn more richly now is spread, 
 
 By which all human kind have promis'd bread ; 
 
 And all the yellow harvest full appears. 
 
 Rewards the toils, dispels all useless fears ; 
 
 Now cooler autumn steals along the plain, 
 
 And fruitful trees do now succeed the grain. 
 
 How sweetly tempting does the fruit appear, 
 
 How rich the harvest of another year : 
 
 Now the bright sun no longer pow'rful shines, 
 
 For other climes, his downward course inclines ; 
 
 Cooler the air, the woods more solemn seem, 
 
 And bend in silence o'er the river stream ; 
 
 Fruit in abundance, hangs upon the trees, 
 
 The quiv'ring leaf is playful in the breeze ; 
 
 Cipe are the nuts by wand'ring boys unseen, 
 
 And haiig in clusters by the holly grcpu. 
 
 Yet many feel deiighled with the time, 
 
 For sports are found within our northern clime, 
 
 The noisy dogs, the huntsman's mellow horn, 
 
 That strik(^s upon the ear of sleepy morn ! 
 
 Within the valley's range, or ))asture high. 
 
 The fox, or hare must hear th' unwelcome cry : 
 
 And follow'rs of all sorts a mingled throng. 
 
 By hedge, or ditch, or wall, full stretch along ; 
 
 Some I have seen, unwilling there to wait, 
 
 Within a moment clear a lusty gate,
 
 WENSLEYDALE. }{) 
 
 Or in tlic river ijlinigo, or dcej) or .shallow, 
 
 And beat the wary Ibx himself, quite lioUow, 
 
 Drowning is nothing, or a nock to break, 
 
 As long as dogs can run, or niiu can sj)eak. 
 
 When hard run down, or just in sight of death, 
 
 He gasps for life and struggling yields his breath. 
 
 Or higher scenes, where ling spreads out the flow'r, 
 
 Range the wild birds, the tenants of the moor ; 
 
 There the keen dogs and watchful sportsmen go, 
 
 And wander wide to give the fatal blow. 
 
 The steady aim just ready as they rise. 
 
 No more on whistling wing the moor bird flies ; 
 
 Jjaden with spoil they weary homeward steer, 
 
 Pleas'd with success, and welcome to good cheer, 
 
 Tir'd nature of each changing view, lies still, 
 
 And moonlight sleeps upon the ncighb'ring hill ; 
 
 Glitters upon the silver ripp'ling stream, 
 
 Sleep occupies the village, lover's dream : 
 
 The swallows now to warmer climes retire. 
 
 Gone from the cottage, they no more admire, 
 
 Their toil and trouble with their young are fled, 
 
 But where that spot is 1 have never read ; 
 
 Now comes the frost, and robin's early sonjr. 
 
 With tuntiful dilty, hops the wall along ; 
 
 The leafless tree, and the short sunshine ray, 
 
 Fortell the winter, and the snowy day, 
 
 The fadiiig leaves now silent fall around, 
 
 Thus man shall fall and claim his native ground ; 
 
 All things appear in melancholy form. 
 
 Till winter comes, with terror, and with storm ; 
 
 Winter, how solemn to the poet's eye,* 
 
 No flow'rs adorn thy path, but fret and die : 
 
 •Thompson's Seasons.
 
 20 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 Glim in thy aspect, most imfrieiully thee, 
 
 To tattev'cl rags, and wretches such as me ; 
 
 Ye rich whom plenty from these storms secure, 
 
 Against misfortune, never shut tlie door; 
 
 Hen ember pity should a dwelling find, 
 
 Did not the Saviour teach us to be kind ? 
 
 Let not disdain spurn sad distress away, 
 
 For He who gives it all, can well repay ; 
 
 Remember this, that pity does adorn 
 
 The human mind, as does the sun, the morn ; 
 
 Winter, thy looks, with snowy locks are wild, 
 
 And all the beauteous year thy frown has spoil'd, 
 
 Thy most unwelcome visit, at a time 
 
 When I have not provided for a rhyme, 
 
 I do not care or like to look on thee. 
 
 Yet write 1 must or more uneasy be. 
 
 The driving snow, deep falling all aroimd. 
 
 Chokes up the lanes, and whitens all the ground ; 
 
 'I'he dales, the hills in their white dress appear. 
 
 And nakcnl to the eye, look cold and drear, 
 
 Now cutting winds from the keen north are found, 
 
 And on the moor is heard the winlr}^ sound ; 
 
 Alone within the cottage long decay'd, 
 
 I listen, half asleep, and half afraid : 
 
 'J'he mice meanwhile, searching the ])lace about, 
 
 S(iueaking for food they long have been without, 
 
 Must 1 supply your wants, yc vermin say, 
 
 And be without myself? 1 tell you nay ! 
 
 Grimalkin listens with a lialf shut eye, 
 
 ']'o all the nightly restless luingry cry ; 
 
 Yet spite of hungry or a meagre face, 
 
 Nor cat, nor mice will quit (he starving ])lace ; 
 
 'liic tcm])est howls along tlie dc('i)'iiing night, 
 
 The silent smoke ascends the chimney height,
 
 WENSLEYDALE. '21 
 
 S(.'curc from linnj'ov, 1 could y<-'t. enjoy 
 
 'Jhe wiiilry lioul, and Iicar the wind go by ; 
 
 Dwell on the wild, contending storms admire, 
 
 All sale wilhin, and list'ning by llie fire ; 
 
 In de))lli.s of snow, could t(jil llic fields along, 
 
 And raise a seeming man both grud' and strong, 
 
 Or on the ice could mix in pleasure's train, 
 
 And fancy joy were in my grasp again : 
 
 Beliold the frost on cv'ry tree; imprest, 
 
 Hoar in the mfjrn fantastically drest ; 
 
 Or icicles suspended from the wall. 
 
 Touch with a stick, and view the glassy fall ; 
 
 Or when the slip'ry way is dang'rous grovvn, 
 
 Jjaugh with the rest at many a tumble down ; 
 
 On some clear night when all around is still. 
 
 Behold the solemn sky up yonder hill : 
 
 Glitter ad round with ornamented light. 
 
 You stars of heav'n, in the deep blue of night ; 
 
 Beyond the reach of even fancy's ear, 
 
 A playful silence in the paths they steer ; 
 
 With wonder I behold the bright abode. 
 
 And far beyond resides their maker, God ! 
 
 No storm of winter vexes or dismays. 
 
 While the sad soul the various ill surveys ; 
 
 But with a sweet enjoyment of delight, 
 
 Like yonder moon that moves serenely bright. 
 
 From earth to heav'n poetic fancy springs, 
 
 Mounts to the stars and views celestial things ; 
 
 No cares to trouble and no ills to fear, 
 
 And no dark fate or misery severe ; 
 
 But everlasting beauty heav'n declares, 
 
 Beyond the reach of pain and earthly cares. 
 
 Thy secret ])ow'r, all order and design, 
 
 Thyself the light that makes these beauties shine,
 
 22 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 All from the centre of Thy Godhead rise, 
 
 And infidelity before Thee dies : 
 
 Ask the dull atheist — can he declare 
 
 From whence these lights exist, how placed there ? 
 
 What man is he, who viewing yon abode, 
 
 But feels within himself there is a God 
 
 Who warms this world and gives the light of day, 
 
 And when we sleep, all danger keeps away ; 
 
 Then why repine whilst here on earth we dwell, 
 
 Why should the children of the Lord rebel ? 
 
 Love ! love should spring within the grateful heart, 
 
 To Him who still such goodness does impart; 
 
 To Him thy homage pay — to Him thy praise 
 
 Be giv'n, nor grieved at seeming delays ; 
 
 IF lingering long, by wintry storms o'ercast. 
 
 Yet shall the spring smile through the cloud at last : 
 
 Sweet is the hope that lightens through the gloom, 
 
 And meditates the joy in time to come ; 
 
 Bright fancy beaming in the poet's eye, 
 
 Light as the cloud amid the summer sky. 
 
 Sweet is the thought, when time the change shall 
 
 see, 
 The storms of life for ever cease to be, 
 And the chief good — in calm eujoymenl blest, 
 ]f we with God have made our peaceful rest.
 
 ASKRIGG ELECTION. 
 
 CoiTected and enlarged from the original, commemorating tbe erent 
 which took place on the 20th and 2 1st of December 1832. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 What muse shall I call on, if any there be, 
 
 To inspire the pen oi" a poet like me ; 
 
 A poet ! why yes, but in ragged attire, 
 
 And for want of a (brture have few to admire ; 
 
 The toils of my life have been little rewarded, 
 
 And poverty mahes me to pass unregarded ; 
 
 But i'ew of the many on life's dreary way, 
 
 Are willing, the praise due to merit to pay ; 
 
 It is money alone commands the respect, 
 
 Whilst poverty meets but with cruel neglect, 
 
 Willi money how easy the road lies before, 
 
 Without it a wilderness only no more : 
 
 It is strange, as I ponder, the charm it conveys, 
 
 What a help to the hungry in all sorts of ways; 
 
 The scorn that I meet with — the countenance sour, 
 
 Is because I am known to be wretchedly poor ; 
 
 r.ut nature still adorns what Ibvtune denies, 
 
 As the light in the cloud when the sun does arise ;
 
 24 ASKRIGG 
 
 The muse in attendance her friendship discloses, 
 And adds to the charm which my fancy supposes ; 
 All grateful I feel for such tender affection, 
 And by your kind leave I present the Election. 
 
 The morning came on as it often had done, 
 With cloud in the shy and a peep of the sun, 
 To Askrigg's fam'd town do the many repair, 
 I go with the rest to behold what is there ; 
 No musical bells awaited our coming, 
 But then there was to be trumpets and drumming. 
 And all were quite eager, expecting to see, 
 A sight interesting to them and to me ; 
 Bands of each party were early expected. 
 And soon were many good people collected ; 
 " The yellows are coming" full soon was the word. 
 And far in the distance tlie music was heard : 
 Sweet music hath charms which sooths us in pain. 
 And th' emotions of youth rekindles again : 
 Wc saw the gay colours spread out to the morn, 
 And the sunshine was spreading the way t' adorn ; 
 Wc ran by the church on the road, to behold 
 These heroes approaching — courageous and bold ; 
 The trumjjet like speaking, the drum's hollow sound. 
 Did waken old Askrigg and echo all round, 
 Kousiug the people who came for to wonder, 
 And siiaking the street with big drum like thunder, 
 In regular order they march up the town, 
 With people huzzaing, they came again down, 
 The noise and the bustle, the lively emotion, 
 liike waves on the shore, with swell of the ocean. 
 But to the King's Mead I must go let me tell, 
 Where I sat myself down without ringing a bell,
 
 ELECTION. 25 
 
 I expected to be on some service employ'd, 
 And learn what I could of the time 1 cnjoy'd, 
 Being strange to the place and scanty of money, 
 I own that I felt as I sat, rather funny ; 
 No waiter for nie must attend at the call, 
 How still is the tongue without money at all, 
 After resting awhile 1 inspected the place. 
 No one could I see that would smile in my face, 
 The town in commotion and noisy without, 
 And the people came flocking the rooms all about; 
 I just took a peep of the various dishes, 
 As often a hungry appetite wishes. 
 The waiters all hurry and cleverly drest, 
 T' adorn the election and wait on the guest ; 
 What money will do thought I, as I took in 
 Another kind snuff of tlie meat they were cooking. 
 I eyed the waiters and landlady mother. 
 Who seemed to heed not the wants of another, 
 How sadly 1 felt with an appetite keen, 
 But ah ! not for me was the fat or the lean ; 
 I thouglit of tiie order directing me there. 
 And to be in attendance was better to bear ; 
 The names of the voters 1 brought for inspection. 
 And imjiatienlly waited for further direction, 
 A writer was what I most wished to be, 
 And I thought the best room was the oilice for me, 
 Accordingly mounting up stairs at a venture, 
 The finest apartment I made bold to enter; 
 But seeing some gentlemen close by a fire. 
 And some at a breakfast in earnest desire ; 
 I paused in doubt, how to act with discretion. 
 Or whether advance or retreat was the question : 
 I thought it was strange for I saw no inviter, 
 And doubted if this was the place for a writer, 
 c
 
 26 ASKRIGCJ 
 
 The error, if any, I could not repair, 
 
 So sat myself down in a green painted chair, 
 
 A ham on a side-board, if proper to mention, 
 
 In spite of my fears did press my attention ; 
 
 Alas my dear friend I thought if I durst, 
 
 My humble respect I should pay to thee first, 
 
 One gentleman said " whicli way do you go sir ?" 
 
 "Are you a voter ?" I answered O no sir, 
 
 I merely had come for to write I replied, 
 
 For a person in waiting, who was on their side. 
 
 At this an old gentleman one that I knew. 
 
 Did please of my person to take a side view. 
 
 Then coming more near with a well-meaning loo'c. 
 
 He said, " I suppose you have brought us a book? " 
 
 I told him I had in a tone hardly able, 
 
 He said " It must be then, the one on the table," 
 
 Whilst a youth in attendance expressed surprise, 
 
 As he cast on my book his quick glancing eyes, 
 
 "This book," then he pointed his finger and said, 
 
 "Last uiglit 1 inspected, I studied and read, 
 
 Some errors I found with papers connected. 
 
 And other mistakes I as quickly detected." 
 
 On hearing of this which I did with a stare, 
 
 1 felt as if errors were death-warrants there. 
 
 With solemn surprise how tliey looked at me, 
 
 And guilty or not, yet I felt so to be ! 
 
 How did I look in my chair painted green, 
 
 I wished I never this fine room had seen ; 
 
 Then turning away to consult by the fire. 
 
 Unbidden I rose at the time to retire, 
 
 I sought my em])loycr, and told him the case, 
 
 Tlie words"^l had heard and my shameful disgrace, 
 
 Never mind he observ'd you were not to blame. 
 
 The reason of that was, the names never came,
 
 K LECTION. 27 
 
 This gave mc relief from the cause of my pain, 
 And 1 bore tlie iniuslicc with silent disdain ; 
 I then asked a place their regard to secure, 
 And they sent me to keep off the crowd fiom the 
 
 door, 
 I thought to be sure I w^as clever as any, 
 And boldly adventur'd to face a great many ; 
 Amaz'd 1 soon found, that with all 1 could do, 
 The people I master'd were only a few. 
 Command as 1 would with a threat or a frown, 
 They made me give way to their force very soon ; 
 All smarting with shame no where could I please, 
 It is hard to look smooth, with a heart ill at ease ; 
 To have nothing to do was all I could choose, 
 And I waited to have a fair view of the blues ; 
 They were still on the way approaching the town. 
 And the yellows were marching with drums up and 
 
 down ; 
 Awhile had their colours been waving about. 
 Attended as usual with rabble and shout. 
 When the blues with their banners came within 
 
 sight. 
 The day was serene, and their colours were bright; 
 March, marching in ord-^r, all steady and true, 
 Well met were the yellows when facing the blue, 
 Good order was kej^t as by word of command. 
 And the meeting of both was pleasingly grand, 
 '1 he}' struclc up with pleasure some beautiful airs, 
 1 never heard better at larger town fairs : 
 The bassoon with the trumpet and mighty big drum, 
 They seemed as if to delight they had come. 
 A ring was now formed for room and for players, 
 The scene was dc-'lighll'ul for people uj) stairs ; 
 The sound of the music, each party so near. 
 With the voice of the people so rousing and clear,
 
 28 ASKRIGG 
 
 Around and all over astonisbmenl grew, 
 As tlie yellows were passing in steady review ; 
 So attentive was each to display liis devotion, 
 So loud was the sound, and so rapid the motion : 
 The blues took the lead in music and drumming, 
 Whilst parties of either from all sides were coming, 
 Here farmers, and squires, and all the first gentry, 
 In carriage procession were mahing an entry. 
 Imposing the sight, and to strangers amazing, 
 For here were all sorts at this novelty gazing, 
 Men, won:en, and children all running about, 
 When silent the music, the people did shout ; 
 The musical sound, so charm'd me from trouble, 
 It seem'd to have lighien'd a load nearly double 
 The great T. O. Powlett came tripping along, 
 From far in the woods, and his parly was strong. 
 These valh'ys, these hills, and the waters that run, 
 Kesound to his praise, when the poet has done, 
 See the vrorthy magistrate Anderson comes. 
 Salute him ye ])ipers, ye tnunpets and drums, 
 Kind friends to the poor I have known them be. 
 And others of note, who were kind unto me. 
 The kind, and the brave, the worthy, the clever, 
 Here meet to assist, to arrange, or endeavour ; 
 The valiant are worthy, the worthy are strong. 
 And Wensleydale people shall speak it in song. 
 The blues were in wailing to give thein a cheering, 
 And all on the blue side when ever a])]M aring, 
 And certain it is there were many fine lidlows. 
 Who came in procession to honour the yellows, 
 The praise of each party WdS nearly divided, 
 ]^xj)ressed by many who saw them as I did ; 
 Now each to his post, for the work must be done, 
 For the toils of the day are in hurry begun ;
 
 ELECTION. 29 
 
 My frieud Leonard Holmes lie was messenger made, 
 He scem'd from his yontli to have been at the trade. 
 The gonllcmcn lawyers allentivc and clever, 
 Amusing to see tliern conferring such favour; 
 With c}cs like a hawk, in tlic crowd they could see 
 Who was and who was not a voter to be, 
 Mr. Winn, Mr. Hammond, the yellows attend, 
 Mr. Robinson he for the blues was a Iriend ; 
 V»'ith native good humour each one had his party. 
 And none were e'er seen more attentive or hearty. 
 Determined these for the cause now impending. 
 And seizing the bridle of each one attending ; 
 At the ])laces for polling, all things were adjusted. 
 And writers in waiting importantly trusted ; 
 Now see how they come, some riding, some walking. 
 As on the eleclion expressively talking : 
 The ribbon each vc ter is proud to display, 
 What prancing of horses and horsemen so gay. 
 The colours rose high, with the musical sound. 
 And see what a number of people all round ; 
 Fair ladies on high in their chambers so bright. 
 Oft s;nillng, as looking on such a strange sight : 
 Some like a schoolboy came creeping and lazy. 
 And some came as cheerfully up as a doisy. 
 One ancient on horseback came jogging astride, 
 His feet near the ground, as they fell on each side. 
 So slow was the horse, so careless the master, 
 A thistle would hardly have made him go faster, 
 To the right or the lel't he just cast a peep, 
 Inclining to Somnus a figure like sleep, 
 I just look a glance as he was advancing, 
 He put mc in mind of knights when romancing. 
 Attending attorneys did press through the crowd. 
 Announcing their errand politelv and loud, 
 c2
 
 30 ASKRIGO 
 
 " Pray who do you vole for?" as each held the bridle, 
 " For you see my dear sir, wc must not be idle, 
 Are you for tlio yi^llows? pray give us the word," 
 The man was quite silent — as not having heard, 
 " Which side are you for pray, the yellows or blues? 
 We wait with impatience to hear the good news ;" 
 The man and the horse at both of them gazed, 
 As he on the stirrups a little was raised, 
 And worthy of notice to write it on paper, 
 The horse was inclined to shew them a caper, * 
 With pushing or crushing, 1 cannot tell whether, 
 But the man and his horse came down both together, 
 The people all staring at such a disaster. 
 And willing to laugh at the horse and his master. 
 Thus man with his fellow can jest or make sport on. 
 When ever he finds him laid under misfortune. 
 
 vanit}', vanity ! excellent teacher, 
 
 All pastime is vanity, all, saith the preacher; 
 However no further molested were lliey, 
 And the man with his horse got up and away; 
 Some straggling voters came on with a swell, 
 For blues or for yelluws unwilling to tell. 
 And now a confusion is seen in the throng, 
 The spirit of party is heady and strong. 
 But breeding of mischief 1 hold very wrong. 
 And why over colours should men learn to light ? 
 Agreeing is better, and scjoner gels right; 
 From some cause or other a colour was lorn, 
 Which harudess had spread to the breeze of the morn, 
 An innocent colour the contest began, 
 
 1 cannot tell hf)W or by whom it was done, 
 From trifles sometiuus nuuiy evils arise, 
 The man is but foolish who will not be wise ; 
 
 }
 
 ELECTION. 81 
 
 The wisdom of olhers ]n\[ a stop to the fraj', 
 
 Gave peace to contention and drove it away, 
 
 Peace is deliglitful on all snch occasions, 
 
 And cahnclli the storm of many vexations; 
 
 Again was rejoicing, again was it come, 
 
 To mingle in concert, with trnmpct and drum, 
 
 Old Askrigg was glad when all was so quiet, 
 
 And so never mind boys disturbing with riot. 
 
 At times the attorneys politely approach. 
 
 More voters to meet in a cart or a coach. 
 
 Mount up or step in, what signifies whether. 
 
 Take a share in the ride, as they jog on together; 
 
 The badges of honour, some liats did adorn, 
 
 And some on the coats that were ragged and torn ; 
 
 Some in new clothes were attired so gay, 
 
 In order to shine and to figure away ; 
 
 Some were as easy, perhaps as you please. 
 
 And some (like your servant) perhaps not at ease ; 
 
 The zeal of each party was certainly clever, 
 
 And never may evil disturb us, no never ! 
 
 Let hereafter ages remember the day. 
 
 When the town was so throng, and the people so gay, 
 
 Great Duncombe and Cayley, with Ramsden so 
 
 wise. 
 For whom all the national spirit did rise ; 
 They should have been here with all who attended. 
 To see who opposed, and also defended : 
 The toil, and the trouble, and all in two days, 
 Well worthy their notice, the author here says ; 
 It would have diverted them, that I am sure, 
 For the rich are diverted, sometimes are the poor, 
 What eating, what drinking, a catalogue large. 
 And public houses too high in their charge,
 
 ^2 ASKRIGG 
 
 As for my part I own, it was tempting a slice, 
 And I did get a ticket for something was nice ; 
 The returns of the poll, from other towns' news, 
 Was apparently more in the cause of the blues ; 
 And next in the honour, to sum up the story, 
 The yellows undauntedly shared the glory : 
 Then waving their colours, for marching prepare, 
 No more for disputing or bending to care ; 
 From toil and from pleasure, no longer contested, 
 For the time it is past, and labour has rested, 
 Depart then in peace, and cheerfully think on't, 
 Nor hinder your wishes from having a drink on't ; 
 May the land be at rest, and all who have spirit, 
 Be rewarded 1 wish, according to merit ; 
 May honesty prosper in every station. 
 And peace ever dwell in the soil of our nation. 
 Be virtuous thoughts our safest proteclion. 
 What more can you wish from an Askrigg election.
 
 POETICAL PERPLEXITIES. 
 
 A pen neally cut which 1 lioiu in my hand, 
 
 With fine paper to write on beside, 
 1 try for the words with a look of command, 
 
 But the wisli'd for still are denied ; 
 I scratch my old head-])iece again and again. 
 
 And with biting my lips they are sore : 
 1 torture my fancy with exquisite pain. 
 
 And am left my sad fate to deplore. 
 
 I think on a many whoso beauty seems clear 
 
 As the sunshine in uncloudy weather, 
 With a grin of ajiplause the rhyme does appear, 
 
 But unmeaning appears put together ; 
 Yet why should a rhyme so sorely dismay me, 
 
 Have not others attempted it too, 
 Like others, perhaps, it never may pay me, 
 
 And it' lucky, why, any may do. 
 
 How often, to make out an elegant line 
 
 T am puzzled, completely in pain, — 
 If the muse is in fault it caunot be mine, 
 
 Then why should 1 bother my brain, 
 Alas ! to what use then to strive for the wit. 
 
 If the thing is forbidden to be, 
 How long must I ponder to make the things fit. 
 
 When they never may fit out of me.
 
 34 POETICAL 
 
 What scribbling of paper, what wasting of ink, 
 
 And all this for a morsel of bread ; 
 Ah ! drop it for ever sometimes do I think, 
 
 Or thou may'st go wrong in thy head : 
 When again a surprising thought will arise. 
 
 Which makes me still think I am clever ; 
 I start in a hasty and pleasing surprise, 
 
 But find I am far off as ever. 
 
 How often, when sitting alone by the fire, 
 
 On the cinders all liot do I stare ; 
 Not a line can I form that I can admire, 
 
 Nor a word but it adds to my care. 
 I view all the room as if sometliing I saw. 
 
 That would still lift me up on my feet. 
 However, I still am but fated to know 
 
 Such bother I must never repeat. 
 
 Yon hill of Parnassus I often would climb, 
 
 As a many have done before now. 
 And made ready for marching time after lime, 
 
 What 1 never durst venture to do. 
 It seemeth but small in tlie distance to lie. 
 
 From a view I have had of the ])lace, 
 But travellers tell me they found it so high. 
 
 That they could not ascend up its base. 
 
 What then must I do if the w>;rds will not flow, 
 
 Like the fox, do 1 look at the jirize, 
 To climb to the toj) is too liavd, and below 
 
 Wliy I shoidd not be thought over wise : 
 One prospr^ct invites me no further to roam, 
 
 On yon Pcnhill the must; mny ins])irc, — 
 The scenes 1 can view of my childhood and home, 
 
 And more 1 will never desire.
 
 PERPLEXITIES, 35 
 
 There tunc the wild notes on the harp with delight, 
 
 As they tremblingly flow down the dale, 
 No sweeter impression on fancy can light, 
 
 Or the gloom that may sometimes prevail. 
 And thou my best friend, when all others retire, 
 
 When trouble or care presses on, 
 To thee I would say, when my days shall expire, 
 
 Let peace be my doom when I'm gone.
 
 THE 
 
 PLEASURES OF SENSIBILITY. 
 
 Celestial maid, aclaiowledgM by few, 
 
 Descending sweeter than the morning dew, 
 
 Fair as llie sunbeam which tlie green earth spreads ^ 
 
 How softly on tlie icw thy bounty sheds 
 
 Its various blessings, and with kindly hand 
 
 Deals forth its gifts upon the smiling land, 
 
 No matter colour or tl)e distant clime. 
 
 Thou still remaiu'st the same, unchanged by time. 
 
 Thy form expressive of emotions strong. 
 
 With gentle pity tunes the plaintive song : 
 
 Thy look of charity docs joy impart, 
 
 And finds the way to every feeling heart : 
 
 Tliou chccr'st the sunshine of departing day. 
 
 And light'st tlie pilgrim on his lonely way. 
 
 With thcc would I, unmindful where to roam. 
 
 Traverse the globe and find the distant home ; 
 
 Witli thet;, the sweets of all thy garden store, 
 
 With dear delight those hidden sweets explore. 
 
 Or midst the plains— or distant mountains high, 
 
 View the fair sun adorn the summer sky, 
 
 And regions yet where blooming sweets appear, 
 
 By man unknown, the blossoms of the year, 
 
 Or Willi some little bark with lightest oar, 
 
 Skim the light wave unto some distant shore,
 
 SENSIBILITY. 37 
 
 And ihore, beyond the wide extended sea, 
 Could \ contented dwell, f;\ir maid, with thee. 
 What strange delusion works upon the mind, 
 Could I thus leave my own lov'd j)lains behind, — 
 This soil — this home — and far more dearer ties ? 
 Enough for me within this prospect lies : 
 The spreading oaks ray native woods display. 
 Wave in the breeze and chase the thought away; 
 Umbratile groves my youtliful heart can please, 
 And set the tumults of my breast at ease; 
 Happy the spot wliicli once my childhood knew, 
 With friends who yet are left, and still are true. 
 The breeze of heav'n can here as sweetly rove, 
 Awak'ning thought 'mid scenes of early love, 
 And by some mossy bank or rippling stream, 
 Pursue with me O muse the tender theme, 
 No sweeter music than a mind in tune, 
 Nor comes the rose more sweetly forth in June, 
 The cares of life on times dark stream may glide, 
 Let every ])ainful thought be laid aside ; 
 Welconu; the flower that peeps beside the way, 
 And ever welcome the sweet month of May ; 
 Each little bird can tell beneath the tree, 
 Tiie pleasure it can feel that pleases me; 
 And oft as list'ning to the warbling strain, 
 Love, joy, and friendship, melt my heart again, 
 These all united, sport within the grove. 
 These teach my feet, to distant never rove ; 
 Pleasant are thy streams that murmuring play, 
 Fair are thy beams thou sun that lights the day : 
 Blessed the spot with ev'ry joy sincere. 
 To know my maker and (o worship here. 
 Within the heart alone, this feeling springs, 
 Taught by the spirit of the King of kings. 
 £
 
 38 PLEASURES OF 
 
 What sweet emotions from their centre rise, 
 
 As these are from the earth, and those the skies ; 
 
 Dispute not such for willingly they spring, 
 
 As does the lark on but a slender wing ; 
 
 And when no cloud of sorrow shall appear. 
 
 Sweet is the music to the silent ear. 
 
 All hail ! thou cheering and eternal fiiend. 
 
 Who througli the gloom, can sweet assistance send : 
 
 Shall baser minds where lurks the deadly hate, 
 
 Mock at thy honest fame with secret hate, 
 
 Thou art the judge thou shalt determine all, 
 
 Whose love has been sincere, and whose so small ; 
 
 But what need I about the matter care, 
 
 Or who shall mean mc ill or who shall spare. 
 
 If thou alone, on whom my hopes rely. 
 
 In ev'ry action of my life be by. 
 
 My thoughts be ever humble, and impart 
 
 Thy grace within tlie secrets of my heart ; 
 
 In humble scenes, can spring the modest llow'r, 
 
 As well as where appears the kingly pow'r ; 
 
 Unaided but by thee who gives the light, 
 
 And paints the colours of the rainbow bright ; 
 
 Divine of heav'n ! from whence all beauty springs. 
 
 All love, 1 praise thee above eartlily things. 
 
 The swain at morn can view his Hocks around, 
 
 And from his pipe can flow the simple sound, 
 
 The pasture herbage, and the mossy rill. 
 
 The distant mountain, or the misty hill ; 
 
 His little cottage from amongst the trees. 
 
 With waving tops just bending to the breeze, 
 
 pjig ^vife — his children— with thy smiles imprest, 
 
 With these he feels the sweets of being blest : 
 
 Who feels disdain to learn such simple joys. 
 
 Full oft Ids own felicity destroys.
 
 SENSIBILITY. 39 
 
 Retire with me and view tlic homely scene, 
 The village landscape and the painted green ; 
 Where honest Jiogcr milks the useful cow, 
 Conducts the farm, and drives in turn the plough ; 
 And not so simple in his coarse attire, 
 But he can feel and gen'rous thoughts admire, 
 Each proper object and each native charm, 
 With finest touch assert the feeling warm : 
 Within his native hills his joys abound, 
 With the same sun that cheers the valley round ; 
 Trees planted by his hand, he sees them rear, 
 And ev'ry (lower is sweet that blossoms near ; 
 The soil he cultivates, his native earth, 
 Philosopher's can boast no greater birth : 
 The rock that glitters in the morning sun, 
 From whence he sees the crystal waters run, 
 Pleases his heart, to him the sound is sweet, 
 And owns the blessing flowing at his feet ; 
 The cowslips scatter'd in his fields recline, 
 He musing sees each spotted beauty shine ; 
 And thei-e in humblest guise, beneath the shade 
 Are seen the lowly hyacinths array'd, 
 Nature her own admiring charms displays. 
 And the sweet primrose decks the lovely waj's : 
 These arc the sweetest in her gardens wild, 
 And here beloved by her darling child ; 
 And only when retiring from the view. 
 Mourns their departure, like a friend he knew ; 
 Pleased he sees the river and the mill. 
 Just peeping through the wood beside the hill. 
 Many a visit to the miller pays, 
 And former scones the clacking wheel betrays, 
 What welcome sweet, the miller and his friend, 
 What dusty looks, what hours of pleasure spend,
 
 40 PLEASURES OF 
 
 An honest pleasure springs in either heart, 
 
 The smile is over wlien about to part ; 
 
 No surly passion intimates the pain, 
 
 But secret pleasure when they meet again ; 
 
 And such is friendship sweet as April show'rs. 
 
 Ah, yes as sweet as are the fairest flow'rs, 
 
 Not always truly or sincerely found, 
 
 But here for once it ornaments tlie ground, 
 
 As sweet as summer warming in tlie breeze. 
 
 Which passing gently siglis among the trees. 
 
 Yon beaten track just lies the mill before, 
 
 As ofl the sun-shine settles on the door ; 
 
 O sun, thy light gives pleasure to the mind, 
 
 And leaves the cloud of sorrow far behind, 
 
 Or when the moonlight softly falls around, 
 
 And soft is heard the rivers hollow sound ; 
 
 Tlierc all serene, thy fancy may admire, 
 
 'J'he still repose in warn) jioetic fire, 
 
 A jxasant rear'd, such is his lot we find, 
 
 With admiration rising on his mind : 
 
 Sweet be thy rest, if little be thy store, 
 
 Content is plenty and thou seek'st no more. 
 
 And may no evil ever come to thee, 
 
 May peace be thine, the truest wish from me. 
 
 May thy trees flourish in the summer gay. 
 
 May friendship cheer thee when 1 fade away. 
 
 May love delighted with thy footsteps rove. 
 
 And breathe the softest wish within the grove ; 
 
 Oft may the morn for thee its beauties spread. 
 
 And cheer thee rising healthy from thy bed. 
 
 And when from toil, retiring from the field, 
 
 I'poii thy ])ath the rose its iVagranee yield, 
 
 As lengtirniug shadow steals the grass along. 
 
 And blackbirds whistle sweet their ev'ning song ;
 
 SENSIBILITY. 4i 
 
 Tliy cottage peeping as tliy cliilJrcn run, 
 Whilst the slow smoke rellccts the setting sun ; 
 May life be found an ever-pleasing dream, 
 Like rays reflected in the moonlit stream, 
 And if ihy haunts 1 never see again, 
 The thoughts of thee will in my heart remain. 
 Beyond this scene a better prospeci lies. 
 Where friends nuiy meet, and friendship never dies ; 
 Good news to man, a pilgrim here on earth. 
 Peace and good will came with the Saviour's birth, 
 The messenger of good, a blissful sound, 
 Peace and good will in ev'ry spot be found. 
 Vv'ithout this joy how solitary all, 
 Without belief, the happiness how small. 
 The mind uneasy then would find no rest. 
 But feel this failh within, and then how blest, 
 What comfort in this truth if poor thy lot, 
 The world forgets thee, but thy God will not ; 
 Smootli as the water lies, the lake along. 
 Sweet as the morning hears the early song. 
 Gratitude is sweet for blessings given. 
 For life, for safety, to indtdgent heav'n, 
 The maker hoars the sigh and sees the tear. 
 Here is the altar and the incense near ; 
 Divine instructions all the good receive. 
 And infidels alone will not believe ! 
 The great display does not appear in vain, 
 The proof is evident and will remain : 
 In this our hopes of happiness repose. 
 All order — all design — and God the cause, 
 From him the source of pleasure, and the light, ^ 
 Which dawns upon the mind in vision bright, ^ 
 But without him, what everlasting night. ) 
 
 e2
 
 42 PLEASURES OF 
 
 Soul of llie pensive bard, the christian true, 
 
 The light of reason, and prophetic too ; 
 
 Adorable in all thy secret ways, 
 
 Thou good in all thy works deserving praise, • 
 
 Without thee humanity would sorrow, 
 
 And hope no longer wish to see the morrow ; 
 
 Pity would sigh, within the silent shade. 
 
 And all the flow'ry season, then would fade, 
 
 The charms of life would have no relish then, 
 
 And infidelity spring up 'mong heathen men. 
 
 Eutlike the cloud which spreads the duslrruight, 
 
 And for awhile forbids returning light, ^^F 
 
 Yet brightly rising shall thy sun appear, 
 
 Disperse the darkness, and dismiss the fear. 
 
 The w'eary pilgrim speeding on his way. 
 
 Shall feel within his soul the cheering ray. 
 
 Rejoicing in his strength no more shall find. 
 
 Those doubts which darken and disturb the mind, 
 
 But frei*li as wlien the blossom decks the tree. 
 
 With light adorning shall the pilgrim be ; 
 
 Thou friend to all in ev'ry ])lace imprest. 
 
 Whose love is greatest, and whose friendship best ; 
 
 Who gives the season, and who gives the day. 
 
 And sees the year return, and pass awa}'. 
 
 And man on whom the greatest blessing gives, 
 
 On life to reason, and to know he lives ; 
 
 To meditate the work before him spread, 
 
 And own thy ])ow'r or be for ever dead ; 
 
 'J'he ioy of thought, where faith and hope can play, 
 
 And when In; will be blest to know he may ; 
 
 Delightful ]iros])( ct frtmi a work begun, 
 
 To worship God, in Clnisl his only son: 
 
 Ye happy scenes where joy and peace abound, 
 
 And every beaten path 1 u auder round ;
 
 SENSIBILITY. 43 
 
 Ye hills of tinic>, in wild air rising free, 
 
 Catcliin<j; tlit! morning liglit one loves to see ; 
 
 Tlie rndtly glow soft stealing on the sky, 
 
 With here and there a clone! slow moving by, 
 
 Ye woods of spring whose green leaves wave along, 
 
 Where music softly steals yonr walks among. 
 
 Within whose shades does recollection tell, 
 
 Of youthful days and joys remember'd well, 
 
 Reposing svreet beneath the leafy shade, 
 
 Sweeter by sounds the little birds had made, 
 
 There &g6t I saw the beauties of the year, 
 
 Wh&JSm thc! stream, the summer sun shone clear ; 
 
 The^Tirst I felt the animating glow 
 
 Steal on my heart, admiring what I saw ; 
 
 Spirit of life and light, all liail ! to thee, 
 
 Expressive in thy works delighting me ; 
 
 The sweet emotion of the poet thine. 
 
 And worthy of my praise in ev'ry line, 
 
 Nature which can the pensive eye engage. 
 
 Reflecting there and found in every age, 
 
 The tender thought in finer feelings shewn. 
 
 Is but a liglit n fleeted from thy own. 
 
 The changing season owns thy mighty power. 
 
 Time turns the wheel, revolving with the hour ; 
 
 If scenes of beauty with the spring retire. 
 
 Forgetful of the joys they did inspire ; 
 
 If winter comes, unbidden and forlorn, 
 
 And ilow'rs no more deserted ways adorn. 
 
 And for a time ye birds forget to sing. 
 
 And up among the rocks the storm shall sing, 
 
 And whistling winds the lonely valley sweep, 
 
 And snow shall lie in many a drifted heap, 
 
 Yet slill there is a charm affects the soul 
 
 That pleases me, to hear the tempest howl ;
 
 44 PLEASURES OP 
 
 Thy worst of terrors, or thy darkest day, 
 
 Will but awhile, the feeble mind dismay, 
 
 For me, while thou art present I can bear, 
 
 And learn direction as 1 feel thy care, 
 
 The solemn thought of thee, all good and wise, 
 
 Will cheer the prospect that before me lies ; 
 
 W^hen winds are silent and the flaky show'r 
 
 Is seen to fall within the leafless bow'r, 
 
 And when the stream with crusted ice is bound, 
 
 And underneath is heard the struggling sound. 
 
 When all is weary as the day declines, 
 
 And wretched poverty at fate repines. 
 
 Midst thoughts of what is past or still to be, 
 
 My confidence alone shall rest on thee ; 
 
 Ye groves for solemn meditation spread, 
 
 Where oft the muse by pleasing silence led. 
 
 To think on things, or view the ev'ning sky, 
 
 And trace the marked cloud uplifted high, 
 
 To see the last of day low in the west, 
 
 And nature sinking into peaceful rest; 
 
 No noise disturbing and no useless care, 
 
 Imposing silence reigns serenely there, 
 
 Save when the wind among those firs around 
 
 Steals on the ear, a softly sighing sound, 
 
 Suiting the time, in melancholy strain, 
 
 And now just heard, now dies away again ; 
 
 Such sounds as from the plaintive harp alone 
 
 Can touch the feeling— but too soon are gone ; 
 
 To you I willing turn and give the praise, 
 
 The sweet enjoyment of my early days, 
 
 And you my friends with days departed gone. 
 
 Which like" the leaves fall downward one by one ; 
 
 Yet in remembrance do 1 hold you dear, 
 
 No further you have ought of ill to fcai-.
 
 SENSIBILITY. 45 
 
 Passed from life the destiny of all, 
 
 And I (aiiknowu the lime) like you must fall, 
 
 Oblivion dark, her dusky mantle throws, 
 
 And n)an must rest from care in death's repose, 
 
 Pity the world, to some a cheerless iouud, 
 
 Where but indifrerence alone is found ; 
 
 Yei not to all the frown forbids the plea. 
 
 Some rrood exists and mav extend to thee : 
 
 See the poor man the glory of his day, 
 
 By fate directed from his home away, 
 
 Over tiie wide world seeking wliere to find. 
 
 Some little peace for scenes he left behind, 
 
 Some distant spot wliere sorrow may be led, 
 
 Whilst all around the darker shadows spread, 
 
 A lonely prospect where no friends appear, 
 
 To soolh the stranger, or his bosom cheer. 
 
 Weary at length he sits him down to sigh, 
 
 The ways unknown tliat yet before him lie ; 
 
 But thou all seeing from thy glory bright, 
 
 Whose s])irit moves u])on the shades of night; 
 
 Can send direction and relief impart. 
 
 And calm the tumult of the down-cast heart, 
 
 Amidst the gloom of night, on all below, 
 
 A kindly soul directed there to go. 
 
 And thus a voice sweet sounding in his ear, 
 
 A brother stranger, and a iViend is near, 
 
 And like an angel sent from yonder skies, 
 
 Bending with ]Mly streaming from his eyes, 
 
 Assists misfortune and forbids to roam. 
 
 And gently leads him to a welcome home ; 
 
 They leave the solitary shade behind. 
 
 And peace aiul rest within the cottage find; 
 
 Sweet be thy hope with kindness such as thine. 
 
 The heart that thus can feel is dear to mine ;
 
 46 PLEASURES OP 
 
 The desert brightens when thy smile appears, 
 
 Like sunshine beaming on earth's dewy tears ; 
 
 Ye sons of earth to charity a friend, 
 
 Whose warmest feelings to compassion bend, 
 
 Who in the path of life and beaten way, 
 
 The mournful scenes of misery survey ; 
 
 Of such as fainting to the bitter blast. 
 
 Or seek for shelter on your bounty cast. 
 
 To yuu I make this homely bluut appeal. 
 
 For such, may pity teach you how to feel. 
 
 The joys, the sorrows, that yourselves can know, 
 
 Will bid you listen to the tale of woe ; 
 
 Some grateful heart may your compassion find, 
 
 And what is sweeter to the human mind, 
 
 Than to assist a friend oppress'd by grief. 
 
 And bring to sick'ning souls the wish'd relief; 
 
 The touch of time on ev'ry feature laid, 
 
 Where once the native blush of beauty spread, 
 
 The beaming eye with tenderness supplied, 
 
 From youthful bashfulncss or honest pride. 
 
 Some peaceful thought reclining in the breast, 
 
 Calm as the sunshine stealing into rest. 
 
 The hope of youth fair promising to see. 
 
 Like green leaves budding from the parent tree, 
 
 But ah, full soon the storm approaches near, 
 
 And takes away the blossoms of the year. 
 
 Fate changes oft the scone, man finds it so. 
 
 And mocks with tempting prospects here below, 
 
 Of what has been the wreck of time, survey, 
 
 The souls abode now feeble in decay. 
 
 Oft at your doors the ])laintive knocker tries. 
 
 And speaks the want with sujiijlicating eyes, 
 
 And not in vain, compassion still is there, 
 
 To hear distress, nor will the bounty spare,
 
 SENSIBILITY. 47 
 
 Some tender heart will learn the grief with pain, 
 
 And speak of hope to cheer the soul again, 
 
 Warmly exjjrcssive of a better fate, 
 
 Wliilst mercy opens the delightful gate ; 
 
 No doubt of evil in the world is found, 
 
 With better good fair rising from the ground, 
 
 Within the soil will spring the evil weed, 
 
 And thrive awhile, as well as better seed ; 
 
 But maik the end of both thus born so near, 
 
 The good we cherish, and the evil fear ; 
 
 The truth alone shall poor misfortune guide, 
 
 If worn with care, and wants he cannot hide, 
 
 Beyond the worst that may these springs supply, 
 
 Like the dark clouds that sail along the sky, 
 
 Yet hope from faith, shall burst with sudden light, 
 
 Cheer the dark scene and gild the cloud of night. 
 
 To him alone, who knows \^ hat is to be. 
 
 The motive, and the act much more than we. 
 
 Let us resign, whatever way we steer, 
 
 In proper time the motive shall be clear. 
 
 Unfading glory be o'er heaven spread. 
 
 Then shall be known the living and the dead.
 
 THE 
 
 HAUP PLAYER. 
 
 As wand'riug forth one morning fair, 
 To chase av.ay some lingering care, 
 
 And hail the beam of gladness, 
 Beuealli the hollow of a hill 
 Was heard the softly falling rill, 
 
 It stole upon my sadness. 
 
 The sweet retreat my fancy found, 
 The still repose of all around, 
 
 The sunshine of the morning ; 
 And yet a thought would there intrude, 
 Within Iho heart's deep solitude, 
 
 Of scenes no more rclurnintr. 
 
 Not always joy can smooth the way, 
 Nor can the heart be always gay, 
 
 It is not for our nature, * 
 The good and ill the cup supplies. 
 We all must taste no man denies, 
 
 Some sooner and some later.
 
 PLAYER. 49 
 
 We cannot, must not put it by, 
 It is the lot of all to try, 
 
 The best of us must drink it ; 
 And therefore since it must be done. 
 Consideration shall be one, 
 
 To deeply musing think it. 
 
 To view the scene awhile I stood. 
 The distant hill — the leafy wood, 
 
 The deep resounding river. 
 The days of youth to mern'ry dear, 
 The friend unchanging with the year, 
 
 Now seen no more for ever ! 
 
 Where is the charm which once was mine, 
 Not in tliis season now so fine. 
 
 Nor in this prospect viewing. 
 That which could make it dear to me, 
 I look in vain, again to see. 
 
 Now gone beyond pursuing. 
 
 Thus musing deep on things no more. 
 As careless of the way before, 
 
 The mossy bank I pressed, 
 And upwards looking on the sky. 
 The sun was glitt'ring clear and high, 
 
 In heav'nly beauty dressed. 
 
 In such a mood, in such an hour, 
 I felt the animating pow'r. 
 
 Within my soul most cheering, 
 And like a dream of pleasure spread, 
 As when on youthful ev'ning bed. 
 
 The moonlight is appearing. 
 F
 
 50 THE HARP 
 
 The early breeze among the trees, 
 The wand'ring hum of busy bees, 
 
 With little cares molested. 
 The native charm of modest flow'r, 
 Sweet blushing in the sunshine show'r, 
 
 Sometimes their course aiTested. 
 
 The sound upon my ear was gone. 
 And I to meditate alone, 
 
 (The ways of life to ponder,) 
 Was left and as return'd the pain, 
 I heard so soft, so sweet a strain, 
 
 As fill'd my soul with wonder. 
 
 All eager as I was to see, 
 
 The cause of sounds delighting me, 
 
 My way I cautious traced, 
 And underneath a spreading tree. 
 Beside the way, on bended knee, 
 
 A stranger there was placed. 
 
 The Cambrian harp* beside him there, 
 Stood fanciful in beauty iair. 
 
 Glittering to the oiorning; 
 And from the strings tlierc stole around, 
 A plaintive, melanclioly sound. 
 
 Sweet echo still returning. 
 
 The noble look, the pensive cast. 
 Succeeding thouglils upon the past. 
 
 In sad renieuibranco seemed, 
 And as his fingers swept the strings, 
 The muse alone could tell such things, 
 
 1 never could have dreamed. 
 
 • Wclth Harp.
 
 PLAYER." 51 
 
 The beaming ray which fell around, 
 The sweet reverberating sound, 
 
 Shall I forget it ? — never ; — 
 The pause at seeing mo so near, 
 The pity melting with the tear, 
 
 Was binding sweet for ever. 
 
 Forgive, said I, intruding feet, 
 For music such as yours, so sweet, 
 
 Is tempting, and inviting ; 
 And music hath so sweet a charm, 
 I feel it in my bosom warm. 
 
 As sweet as spring delighting. 
 
 Truly, the stranger then replied, 
 From ev'ry vain pursuit beside, 
 
 To some the charm is given, 
 To sooth the passing scenes of strife, 
 Which oft beset the ways of life. 
 
 Dark as the clouds of heaven. 
 
 I too have felt the lurking pow'r. 
 Within my heart in tender hour, 
 
 Which former days have S(>en ; 
 Now this, my friend in all my care, 
 And all stern fate allows to spare. 
 
 The wreck of what has been. 
 
 And here indeed I saw imprest. 
 Upon his face — within his breast. 
 
 Some secret long endured ; 
 The look which up to heav'n he cast. 
 As in his soul the vision past, 
 
 That time had never cured.
 
 52 THE HARP 
 
 I fear, said T, you suffer pain, 
 By recollecting scenes again, 
 
 Which may not be related, 
 And if I could relief impart. 
 You have the friendship of my heart, 
 
 To trouble all are fated. 
 
 In unfrequented paths we tread, 
 By wayward fancy sometimes led, 
 
 In search of unknown treasure. 
 We toil along the distant way. 
 Unmindful of the closing day, 
 
 And findeth not the pleasure. 
 
 It is most true what you relate, 
 
 The joys that come, the ills that wait, 
 
 Are oft the mind's employment, 
 My woes alone I must endure. 
 Which lime can never, never cure. 
 
 This liarp my sole enjoyment. 
 
 A rugged path is all I see. 
 
 The pleasant scene is not for me. 
 
 The charm no more I cherish, 
 A stranger far, unknown 1 roam, 
 Without a friend, without a homo, 
 
 But left alone to perisli. 
 
 Your pity shall acceptance find, 
 And after now when brought to mind, 
 
 From this time kindly dated, 
 The story of my woes 1 tell, 
 Then sit you down and mark it well. 
 
 In sorrow here related.
 
 PLAYER. 53 
 
 Far in the north that skirts the sky, 
 Behind a mountain rude and high, 
 
 My birth in the summer prime, 
 Sweet buds of hope did blossom there, 
 Unruffled by the breath of care. 
 
 In the garden flow'rs of time. 
 
 And there a castle noble stands. 
 The distant sea the view commands, 
 
 A prospect rude and wild, 
 And in those time-worn beaten tow'rs, 
 I passed sweet those blessed hours, 
 
 A native happy child. 
 
 Home of my parents great and good, 
 And near akin to royal blood. 
 
 Oh ! how well they loved me, 
 Choice friends would sometimes visit there. 
 The summer time with us to share. 
 
 And sail along the sea. 
 
 Oft wander round romantic ground, 
 Or listen to the river's sound. 
 
 Which beauty oft has courted, 
 The woodland scene, the forest green. 
 The tuneful harp by hands unseen, 
 
 In playful fancy sported. 
 
 The merry dance within the hall, 
 With pictures hanging from the wall, 
 
 The work of the davs of old, 
 And of the deeds of former men, 
 Tlie minstrel sweetly sung again, 
 
 And the great Llewellvn bold. 
 F 2
 
 54 THE HARP 
 
 The poet there of rustic rliymes, 
 Joined the song of other times. 
 
 In tenderness revealing, 
 The glory past which may not last, 
 Upon the strings so sweetly cast, 
 
 As struck upon the feeling. 
 
 And pausing here, I shed the tear, 
 The thought is painful and severe, 
 
 Within my sad heart heating. 
 The fate of such I now deplore, 
 For I must never see them more, 
 
 Days of the past how fleeting. 
 
 The sun had set behind the hill, 
 And all around the castle still, 
 
 Each guest we saw retiring, 
 The gate was closed for the night, 
 And heav'n above was shining bright, 
 
 The tranquil mind admiring. 
 
 Our senses then were sinking deep, 
 Within the balmy arms of sleep, 
 
 From weary care released. 
 When horrid sounds distinct and clear, 
 Did rouse this sleep to brcal bless fear, 
 
 As loud the sounds increased. 
 
 No time for thought succeeding pain. 
 Like dream's disorders of the brain, 
 
 In wakeful recollection ; 
 But like a fire first sceo to glare, . 
 Red wilh dark shadows on the air, 
 
 Made awful bv reflection.
 
 PLAYER, 56 
 
 Sad terror to my bosoin came, 
 
 Tlie distant scream, the bursting flame, 
 
 With armed men appearing ; 
 The torches liglit, the dagger briglit, 
 That gleaming shone upon the night, 
 
 Most horrible and daring. 
 
 The savage shout exulting breath, 
 As rushing on to scenes of death, 
 
 Too terrible for naming, 
 Some few there were, who nobly stood, 
 And met the dagger searching blood, 
 
 The fire all round still flaming. 
 
 " Secure the chief," was now the cry, 
 " Search where the hidden treasures lie, 
 
 " And the lady with her son, 
 " Our captives shall our deeds admire, 
 " And see the castle now on fire, 
 
 " Away, for the deed is done," 
 
 1 saw no more 1 heard it not, 
 But senseless fell upon the spot. 
 
 And when my thoughts returned, 
 We were upon a dreary moor, 
 With some behind and some before, 
 
 I for my parents mourned. 
 
 With horsemen rude, the road I w'ent, 
 They seemed dark in silence bent. 
 
 Through many a winding way. 
 Wild as their looks, the prospect grew, 
 And now a mountain rose in view, 
 
 Deep darkening on the day.
 
 56 THE HARP 
 
 A dread resort, for in its side, 
 The daring robber learns to hide, 
 
 No help for the stranger near. 
 No father, mother, there can save, 
 For unseen daggers reach the brave, 
 
 And he falls without a tear. 
 
 Beneath a cavern deep and wide. 
 Projecting rocks in gloomy pride, 
 
 ilude nature there discloses. 
 Dismounting and with hollow tread, 
 Their horses and their captives led, 
 
 Where never peace reposes. 
 From friendly aid for ever torn. 
 There first 1 heard the robber's horn, 
 
 Within the cavern sounding. 
 Lone echo in her secret round. 
 Did answer back the signal sound. 
 
 From rock to rock rebounding. 
 
 I saw the stone remov'd away. 
 And all within was light as day, 
 
 Like magical delusion ; 
 In high dispute and near a fire, 
 A giant form in grim altire. 
 
 Made terrible confusion. 
 
 To see his friends all anger fell, 
 How did my bosom's passion swell, 
 
 The chief once more was seated. 
 And on tlie stranger bent his eyes, 
 In every look the word he dies, 
 
 Methought each glance repeated.
 
 PLAYER. 67 
 
 " And have you done the deed ?" he said, 
 But as he spoke his colour fled, 
 
 " Are my conniiands fulfilled ?" 
 " They are" a hollow voice replied, 
 " This dagger with their blood is dyed, 
 
 " The haughty chief is killed. 
 
 A word apart unto your ear, 
 Just then 1 was the sport of fear, 
 
 And J scarcely took my breath, 
 The gold I thought he said secure, 
 And she too is within your pow'r, 
 
 And the man lies cold in deatli. 
 
 'Tis well ! then drag the boy along,' 
 The chain is equal to the strong, 
 
 And shew him his dungeon bed. 
 His mother shall have cause to weep, 
 For rousing jealousy so deep. 
 
 The lover no more I dread. 
 
 They bore me off the chain to wear. 
 Dark in a place for dec]) despair, 
 
 And brout'ht me the silent meal, 
 I thought upon my parents' fate, 
 Tliis tyrant robber's cruel hate, 
 
 And the words they did reveal. 
 
 But all night long 1 found no rest, 
 For grief was heavy in my breast, 
 
 As the wretches loudly sung, 
 Rejoicing in their bloody deeds, 
 And all tliat evil mischief breeds. 
 
 Loud heard from every tongue.
 
 58 THE HARP 
 
 The drunken feast, the robber's den. 
 The evil life of fearless men, 
 
 Breaking the laws asunder, 
 Many a helpless victim torn, 
 Within those dark recesses borne, 
 
 The witness of their plunder. 
 
 The weary night was past away, 
 And through the top some light of day, 
 
 Into my cell was bursting, 
 I viewed round the rocky ground, 
 And in a corner searching found, 
 
 A dagger deeply rusting. 
 
 Alas ! thought I, some deed 1 fear, 
 With this, has been performed here, 
 
 When none could the victim save, 
 But time is bringing on your fate, 
 Yourselves shall fall, or soon or late. 
 
 For justice has made your grave. 
 
 The morning came, but not the same. 
 No parent calling on my name, 
 
 In sweet end(;aring token. 
 Before me stood a man of blood, 
 In silence setting down my food, 
 
 My heart was almost broken. 
 
 Surveying then my binding chain, 
 And seeing all was safe again, 
 
 With a savage smile withdrew. 
 And thus inclosed round with crime, 
 To pass away the dreary time. 
 
 On my sickly fancy grew.
 
 PLAYER. 59 
 
 The fearful dream, tlie midnight scream, 
 Oft heard whilst mournful sounds would seem, 
 
 Like some one just expiring ; 
 At other times a din of arms. 
 Disturbing sleep with rude alarms , 
 
 Then distantly retiring. 
 
 Thus day by day the rolling year, 
 Was still the same, no freedom near, 
 
 Or friends to support my cause, 
 And many a sigh within me deep, 
 I wished for that lasting sleep, 
 
 That brings the dead repose. 
 
 The dagger still I kept secure. 
 My grim attendant ever sour, 
 
 But I felt not now afraid, 
 There was a wildness in his eyes. 
 That fear could not from me disguise, 
 
 But he never with me staid. 
 
 One night I do remember well, 
 Methinks too fearful here to tell. 
 
 But 1 had not gone to sleep. 
 When plunder was the sentry word, 
 A distant prize, to arms I heard ! 
 
 Prepare for the danger deep. 
 
 I heard them passing quickly on. 
 And soon retiring steps were gone, 
 
 And I felt a strange delight, 
 Still strange it was, and is to me, 
 
 I found myself unchain'd and free. 
 
 On that mysterious night.
 
 60 THE HARP 
 
 My dagger then I grasped hard, 
 I found my dungeon door unbar'd, 
 
 In silence I stole along, 
 A feeble light I saw with fear. 
 The rocky door half open near, 
 
 But 1 feared something wrong. 
 
 I paused, and to know if right, 
 And why within so dull a light, 
 
 With caution I peeped through, 
 And by the fire no longer bright. 
 Two forms then darkly met my sight, 
 
 And a flagon 'tween the two. 
 
 " I think," said one, low muttering there, 
 " You, captain, feel no mortal care, 
 
 " Although your fair ones die, 
 " Or if you do, you hide it so, 
 " That we your comrades ne\er know, 
 
 " For love it is said is sly." 
 
 The chief at this witli low'ring head, 
 Bid him beware of what he said. 
 
 Or what he or they might think. 
 So fill the flagon to the brim. 
 Think no more of the foolisli whim. 
 
 My love is for spoil and drink. 
 
 Thus to our comrades one and all, 
 And may no evil fortune fall, 
 
 May we here in safety dwell. 
 No lover shall divide my heart, 
 With you I take the robber's ])art, 
 
 And to love 1 bid farewell.
 
 PLAYER. 61 
 
 True 1 have lost ray lady bride, 
 Who fell a sacrifice to pride, 
 
 And I courted her in vain ; 
 Cold and forbidding in her hate, 
 What more I will not now relate, 
 
 She never will scorn again. 
 
 The foolish boy — the mother's joy. 
 He before long, we must destroy, 
 
 For if once he gets away. 
 We shall hare cause, to dread the laws ; 
 Unto our still detested foes, 
 
 He would our haunts betray. 
 
 Then drink about, the night wears out, 
 Secure we are we need not doubt, 
 
 We may enjoy the pleasure, 
 Time swiftly gli4es upon the wing, 
 Drink blunts the anger of its sting, 
 
 Our joy is in our treasure. 
 
 So then thought T, the next would be, 
 A warrant for the death of me, 
 
 And the time but short befoi'e. 
 No father, mother, could 1 save, 
 Happy for them within the grave, 
 
 Where trouble can vex no more. 
 
 Now roused to revenge the deed, 
 And maAC this tyrant savage, bleed, 
 
 It was now rav dark intent. 
 And waiting for the moment when. 
 Kind sleep might visit these two men, 
 
 And forward the great event. 
 G
 
 THE HARP 
 
 At length the summons both obey, 
 And heavy on their eyelids lay, 
 
 As they stretched out along, 
 I marked well the heaving breath, 
 That soon would cease, so soon in death, 
 
 And a master to the strong. 
 
 Awhile in solemn thought I stood, 
 Before the dagger sought their blood, 
 
 I thought of their victims slain, 
 I struck them with so sure an aim, 
 The rushing stream so quickly came. 
 
 That they stirred not again. 
 
 Stiff stretched out upon the ground, 
 The hollow cavern whispering sound, 
 
 And their clothes all bloody red ; 
 From one I took some gold away. 
 And with the early morning ray, 
 
 In haste from the scene I fled. 
 
 In every glen I passed by. 
 
 The wind was hollow from the sky. 
 
 As in dread I started on. 
 Till far from danger and from those, 
 A ray of hope within me rose. 
 
 For the day was nearly gone: 
 
 1 passed on from place to place, 
 Bui never saw a ibrmer face. 
 
 Or a friend i knew before, 
 1 never sought to sec the soil, 
 Where lirsl I knew the ch(!erful smile, 
 
 1 never belield it more
 
 PLAYEK. 68 
 
 I bought tliis harp — the music tone, 
 Is soothing sweet, when all alone, 
 
 Companion of my way, 
 My sorrows known, pray never tell. 
 With you it rests, and so farewell. 
 
 For behold departing day. 
 
 Then rising with a mournful look, 
 My trembling hand in silence took. 
 
 As he bid a last adieu ! 
 I staid to see him on his way. 
 In fancy still I heard him play. 
 
 And still the sad tale renew.
 
 ^"•c 
 
 -C 
 
 TILLAGE BELLS 
 
 Now come with me my merry men, 
 
 And drop that doleful singing, 
 Just let us have a tuneful strain, 
 
 And set yon bells a ringing. 
 It cheers my heart to hear them sound, 
 
 It keeps one too from sleeping, 
 Then let the merry change ring round. 
 
 And hail the daylight peeping. 
 
 Pull, pull the ropes, and give a peal, 
 
 And send it down the valley. 
 It then will make poor Sally feel. 
 
 For Ralph who feels for Sally ; 
 And Tom, and Jack, and Joe, and Ned, 
 
 Who wink at his devotion, 
 Of their own sweethearts are afraid, 
 
 And feel the same emotion. 
 
 Ring, ring my boy my bosom swells. 
 
 My own true love revealing, 
 There is such music in these bells, 
 
 As rouses all my feeling. 
 The moon has sunk behind yon hill, 
 
 Tlie sun is just appearing, 
 Yon tree in blossom by the mill, 
 
 How sweetly fresh and cheering.
 
 BELLS. 
 
 You Sam, you pull too hard that bell, 
 
 With arms too widely swinging, 
 A little softer will as well, 
 
 Add pleasure to the ringing. 
 There, that is right, and well in tune, 
 
 What funny souls you men are, 
 Mind time my boys in pulling down, 
 
 And you Bob mind the tenor. 
 
 Where is the heart that cannot feel. 
 
 Some pleasure in it warming, 
 As pausing to the tuneful peal, 
 
 And own the music charming. 
 Then ring the changes round and round, 
 
 And give to time the measure, 
 For time, alas ! is often found. 
 
 Without such passing pleasure. 
 
 What lonely region can there be, 
 
 Without such sounds to cheer it. 
 Where friends no more each other see. 
 
 And truly yet I fear it, 
 A sad and desert wild to roam. 
 
 And there perhaps to perish. 
 An exile from his native home, 
 
 He loved once to cherish. 
 
 This freedom is a pleasant thing, 
 
 The minds delightful pleasure, 
 And who would be a captive king, 
 
 Without so rich a treasure, 
 The peasant toiling for his bread, 
 
 Is happy to possess it. 
 Contented in his humble shed, 
 
 With freedom sweet to bless il. 
 G 2 
 
 65
 
 YJLLAGE 
 
 And happy ye iu youthful pride, 
 
 Some little practice wanting, 
 No cares to ruffle you beside, 
 
 With this exception granting. 
 Blest with the smiles of friendship sweet. 
 
 And each a handsome lover, 
 And with a merry peal can treat, 
 
 The valley sweetly over. 
 
 The river and the breeze convey, 
 
 When met with no resistance, 
 The sounds that murmur far away. 
 
 Till wasted iu the distance. 
 Or else to yonder rock, where dwells, 
 
 Lone echo of the morning. 
 Attentive to the tuneful bells. 
 
 And softer sounds returning. 
 
 Old age accepts the pleasing strain, 
 
 Down bending to December, 
 And days of youth appear again, 
 
 As wakeful to remember. 
 And time that marks the cottage walls, 
 
 With his expressive finger, 
 Seems tranquil as the music falls, 
 
 Delighting there to linger. 
 
 Oh time ! what changes hast thou seen, 
 
 And early spring time flower, 
 And many a cheerful spring has been 
 
 Found, bending to tliy power. 
 But never mind old friendly time. 
 
 Some future good still bringing, 
 The bells if set by thee will chime. 
 
 And seldom tire by ringing.
 
 BELLS. 67 
 
 Bv thee tlie traveller enjoys, 
 
 'The well known view adorning, 
 His care thou softens or destroys, 
 
 When far from home returning ; 
 The distant hill by spring time clear. 
 
 Where dwells his native people, 
 And from the spot sweet sounds draw near, 
 
 Where peeps the village steeple. 
 
 Then ring the merry peal again, 
 
 To soolh the way-worn stranger, 
 Let pleasure cheer away his pain. 
 
 And fly all former danger. 
 The sighing breeze among the trees, 
 
 That nod their heads around him, 
 His busy fancy working sees, 
 
 And friendly smiles have found him. 
 
 Shall tender swains in silence hear, 
 
 As by some shady spreading tree, 
 Their native bells resounding clear, 
 
 And not express delight with me, 
 Or lovers in whose eyes are seen, 
 
 Those ioys which nature melting tells, 
 Or dancing on the village green, 
 
 Responsive to the merry bells. 
 
 They tell to youth the coming time, 
 
 For love it may not tarry, 
 The sweet enjoyment of its prime, 
 
 A happy time to marry. 
 The parson then the knot shall tie, 
 
 Heaven ! bear witness to it. 
 The solemn clerk, amen shall cry, 
 
 And who can then undo it.
 
 68 VILLAGE 
 
 Then ring the peal true lovers feel, 
 
 A joy unknown to sorrow, 
 And in their heart the thought will steal, 
 
 Which makes them one to morrow. 
 The circling ring, no trifling thing. 
 
 Lucky the time or never. 
 And heav'n who sees the fate of these, 
 
 Can make it so for ever. 
 
 Let not a thought of by-gone days, 
 
 (For such have no returning,) 
 Add clouds to present sunny rays. 
 
 Upon your summer morning ; 
 The woody scene, the sloping hill, 
 
 With cottages appearing, 
 The river sound by yonder mill. 
 
 How pleasant on the hearing. 
 
 You feeling souls who dwelling near. 
 
 Can view the scene admiring. 
 In modest tones respectful hear. 
 
 Our native wish requiring ; 
 Protect these bells for tuneful joy. 
 
 But hanging here awhile hence, 
 Nor let the stranger passing by, 
 
 Be thoughtful at their silence. 
 
 No richer gift from music drawn, 
 
 Can yield such sweet enjoyment, 
 But if these bells be let alone. 
 
 How shall they find employment, 
 How would you cheer the sabbath day, 
 
 Or call the pious meeting, 
 On solemn service bent to pray. 
 
 Without the tuneful greeting.
 
 BELLS. <>0 
 
 The parson witli a solemn pace, 
 
 Would not be glad depend on't, 
 Nor would the clerk in such a case, 
 
 Although his true attendant, 
 So necessary are they found, 
 
 Respecting us poor mortals, 
 That even death requires a sound. 
 
 When visiting the portals. 
 
 What church so finely meets the view. 
 
 Which time so long has spared. 
 Or where a spot more dear to you, 
 
 Than where old friends are carried, 
 The sacred spot to many dear. 
 
 By ties they loved to cherish. 
 Here ends the strife with ev'ry care, 
 
 And like a flower shall perish. 
 
 On you, on all our bells do call, 
 
 Each man is truly clever, 
 They ask your favour great and small, 
 
 It is but just a favour. 
 Which if you grant it pleases well, 
 
 Thus toil becomes a pleasure, 
 A small reward no further tell, 
 
 Pray think it at your leisure. 
 
 Blest be the time which yet is yours. 
 
 When spring renews your gladness. 
 And may you pass those happy hours, 
 
 Without a sliade of sadness ; 
 Your woods and fields and sky so blue, 
 
 So bountifully given. 
 And yonder sun bright beaming through 
 
 The ornament of heaven.
 
 W VILLAGE 
 
 All, all, within the bosom lies, 
 
 The charm that binds so sweetly, 
 Like lovers dear and tender ties, 
 
 United more completely. 
 There sweet affection ever springs, 
 
 There memory musing dwells, 
 And on the breeze with lightest wings, 
 
 Sweet sound the village bells.
 
 THE WEDDING DAY. 
 
 Love cheers the soul, all uaturo now is gay, 
 
 A nd sweetest flowers adorn tlie first of may ; 
 
 Ye little birds with me delight to sing, 
 
 Salute with me the beauties of the spring, 
 
 Love is the theme, eternal joys be thine, 
 
 Whilst youthful lovers bow before thy shvine, 
 
 The honest heart, no matter how or where. 
 
 Can feel the joy which heaven has yet to spare, 
 
 The days of youth how blissful and serene. 
 
 No thought of time, can come to change the scene, 
 
 The prospect brightens, on the coming day, - 
 
 And every cloud retires awhile away ; 
 
 No cares of future ills our thoughts employ, 
 
 The present then is sunshine, mirth and joy. 
 
 My youthful friends afraid the chance miscarry. 
 
 Upon this day resolve at once to marry, 
 
 Doubting the wonder working hand of fate, 
 
 As often found in sad desponding state. 
 
 However fate, may have to do to bind. 
 
 Or disappointment vex the human mind. 
 
 And oft as love has crosses to endure. 
 
 And truly never see, the happy hour, 
 
 As oft to some in gloomy shadows spread, 
 
 And dark misfortune only theirs to wed ; 
 
 Yet sliall my wishes to their hopes attend. 
 
 And fate, look smiling, and good fortune send ,
 
 72 THE WEDDING 
 
 Invited 1, the happy day to see, 
 
 A circumstance, not very new to me ; 
 
 But pleased still to see their joys complete, 
 
 And wish they long may find the blessing sweet ; 
 
 Attendant then unto the house repair, 
 
 To see what stirrings and be ready there. 
 
 The flush of Hannah's cheek was rosy red. 
 
 And those soft eyes a modest sweetness shed, 
 
 The graces of the spring her steps adorn. 
 
 And breathe their sweets to deck the bridal morn ; 
 
 Harry was cheerful in his youthful prime. 
 
 But not unmindful of the solemn time, 
 
 Thus moves the bride in white as beauty's queen, 
 
 And his the ornamental coat of green, 
 
 They long united in the bands of love. 
 
 Are willing now the sacred pledge to prove ; 
 
 A merry group I found already there, 
 
 And for the pleasing duty each prepare, 
 
 A rustic village scene may merit praise. 
 
 Nor let your censure spurn our homely ways, 
 
 Merit and beauty, iu a country town, 
 
 Is sweet simplicity, and not a clown ; 
 
 On to the church my brave companions all, 
 
 The day invites us and the neighbour's call. 
 
 There now, behold the steady step before, 
 
 And every eye is watchful at the door, 
 
 No wonder lasses you are peeping there, 
 
 Don't look with envy at our bride so fair, 
 
 Your smiles however tell me no such thing 
 
 In honest souls no evil passions spring; 
 
 Up to the church, that peeps upon the view. 
 
 The basliful pair the nearest way pursue, 
 
 With stately step we follow close behind, 
 
 Nor dare to speak what passes in our mind ;
 
 DAY. 7f^ 
 
 Yonder the parson comes, the clerk beside, 
 And quickly fly the church doors open wide, 
 We all step in^ and solemn waiting stand, 
 Expecting soon the reverend command ; 
 With change of dress we see a change of face. 
 Such as is suiting to the time and place. 
 And now behold the CM-emonial book, 
 On each the parson casts a searching look, 
 We each our places take, and kneel to prayer, 
 And then in solemn voice he does declare, 
 If any know impediment or cause. 
 Why such should not be joiu'd by holy laws 
 Of holy matrimony, now explain, 
 For if there be a cause you join in vain ; 
 Therefore now speak, or henceforth hold tlie tongue, 
 The Lord is witness of the right or wrong ; 
 Well, all are silent and you soon shall see. 
 The sacred rite performed here by me. 
 To love and to cherish, sick or in health, 
 If rich or if poor the mind is the wealth ; 
 And then with this body I do thee wed. 
 Confessed to him who knew all they said. 
 For better for worse, till death us do part, 
 A promise most kind if meant from the heart, 
 How great is this promise, promise of love, 
 hi time it is made and time has to prove. 
 The round-ring, an emblem pretty to view, 
 For ever to love thee certainly true. 
 The servant of God was solemn and when 
 Tiie blessing was given, the clerk said amen ; 
 The rules of the Church I ever admire. 
 For there I was wed and there must retire ; 
 Each proper answer plainly was given, 
 United by man recorded in heaven ; 
 
 H
 
 74 THE WEDDING 
 
 Pie as a husband modest in replies, 
 
 She as a wife consenting from her eyes, 
 
 Thus was the ceremony kindly done. 
 
 And so these two were then united one ; 
 
 The parson and the clerk discreetly view, 
 
 Then after service silently withdrew ; 
 
 That ring of gold is a pretty token, 
 
 Of vows when made never should be broken, 
 
 And truly it became the bride so well, 
 
 It gave more pleasure than I ought to tell, 
 
 The bridegi'oom acted with becoming style. 
 
 Accepted his fair partner with a smile, 
 
 And to the ringers gave a crown away, 
 
 To drink their health upon the bridal day. 
 
 The merry bells now from the steeple sound. 
 
 And give due notice to the country round ; 
 
 In every heart «\veet expectation swells, 
 
 From distant warning of the village bells, 
 
 All friends arc cheerful as the day is fine, 
 
 And not one heart rejoicing more than mine ; 
 
 A glass to memory and friendship give, 
 
 And may we live to love, and love to live, 
 
 "Wishing you joy, and many happy years. 
 
 It melts the soul to tenderness and tears, 
 
 The sunshine glitters through tlie green wood trees. 
 
 And your gay ribbond's flutter to the breeze ; 
 
 Thus to the village do we pass along. 
 
 And yonder throstle greets us with a song ; 
 
 What little children all the wa}' are seen. 
 
 For you all nature spreads her lovely green, 
 
 Now by this turn the village is in sight. 
 
 Old age comes out, and all our friends iuvite, 
 
 Could it be ever thus how gay the time, 
 
 Pleasure would steal beyond the reach of rhyme,
 
 DAY. 75 
 
 Neiglibonrs and friends, ai'e forward all to see. 
 And lioncst John will shake a hand with me ; 
 O gentle nnise ! cans't thou not now nnfold, 
 What yet remains in prospect to be told, 
 Now for the race, the ribbon is the prize, 
 Each active youth, in hope of winning tries. 
 The distance must be measured a mile, 
 And fortune is no favourite awhile, 
 Hard work, and see how cleverly they run, 
 The race is over, and young Fletcher won ; 
 Ixejoicing sounds attend the winner's name, 
 Who proudly claims the prize, a lawful claim ; 
 A welcome dinner now attends on all, 
 Courting the highest relish with the small. 
 Brave sight which never vet could vex desire, 
 When ai)petite is keen and friends require, 
 I do rot ever recollect the day, 
 Tn which so soon, so much was cut away, 
 The cheerful glass succeeding to impart, 
 A happy moment to each honest heart. 
 The tongue so long unwilling to be iK^ard, 
 Is now more ready to just say a word, 
 A witty thought, which must be told is plain. 
 Joke follows joke, but prudence holds the rein ; 
 A fiddle and a dance of course succeeds. 
 This time objects not, and ihe party leads ; 
 For want of room to pass an hour or so, 
 We all unto the village alehouse go, 
 Muster a catalogue my friendly muse. 
 Of such as did attend and not refuse. 
 What mighty stir, what wonderful display. 
 And choice remarkable on such a day, 
 How very smart, how very neatly drest, 
 The dance to honour with their very best ;
 
 c\: 
 
 76 THE WEDDING 
 
 May is a season of rcsjiectful hue, 
 
 And may vre not be as respectful too, 
 
 First then the bridegroom, with his happy bride, 
 
 Fair as the morning in tlie green wood side, 
 
 Roger and Kate, who live among the trees, 
 
 By honest labour and true lovers these, 
 
 Next Jonathan, with his sister Susan, 
 
 A shoemaker he, and both new shoes on ; 
 
 Robin the tailor, I ought to mention. 
 
 Any omission is not intention, 
 
 What very fine cloth with buttons so bright, 
 
 "VVhiclj now and tlien shone in the sunshine light ; 
 
 There old Bobby Thompson fine as a spark, 
 
 Delighting in i'ln, and gay as a lark ; 
 
 Nathan and J<'0, who ring in the stee2:)le. 
 
 Ringing is sweet when wedding the people ; 
 
 Fletcher now comes, a v.illing partaker. 
 
 With master Joseph the undertaker, 
 
 At such a time they wish not to offend. 
 
 Each one a lover bringeth, or a friend. 
 
 With honest trades none are here asham'd, 
 
 INIen are to labour and not be blam'd. 
 
 The scripture this, very wisely teaches, 
 
 "Follow your calling," the parson preaches ; 
 
 There Sam tlie blacksmith no more dusty. 
 
 Youthful and strong, and my word how lusty ; 
 
 Simon tlie farmer how red his face is, 
 
 And the two IVIiss Manners like two graces; 
 
 Sun of the morning now shine upon us. 
 
 Here comes Miss Fanny with brother Jonas, 
 
 Young Neddy friendly brouglit up a farmer, 
 
 And with him Sally liis beloved charmer. 
 
 And slowly as a snail here comes no faster, 
 
 Tlic village poet aud schoolmaster;
 
 DAY. 77 
 
 And last tlic fiddler bringeth up the rear, 
 With Matty and her nameless lover dear, 
 The fiddler was musical as a bell, 
 For he understood music very well, 
 And 1 have heard him play such funny things, 
 Like almost speaking on the fiddle stiings, 
 So the company were now all ready, 
 The first bold venture was made by Neddy ; 
 Now care and old time just looked pleasant, 
 To see such a happy people present. 
 And soon were their arms and legs in motion, 
 Light as the bark on the summer ocean. 
 What strange ideas does a dance unriddle. 
 The foot of time attentive to the fiddle, 
 Heedless I look, but listen to the sound, 
 Which on the ear keeps shaking round and round, 
 Some art in action and some moving grace, 
 Adorns the sly insinuating face, 
 Passing each other with exceeding glee, 
 But this became quite tiresome to me, 
 Some from the motion were over heated, 
 And near the fiddler then got seated. 
 But still impatient soon were up again. 
 Returning to the sport inspiring strain ; 
 Close in a corner and near a table, 
 I chose to sit, for dancing not able, 
 Glasses were fiird and thereon placed. 
 And as the sound kept up, these I faced, 
 1 had no wisli to be placed nearer. 
 And sometimes took what is called a chcerer, 
 Until witli drinking I was so mellow. 
 As to think [ was a clever fellow, 
 And thought that in honour to the scraper, 
 I would mvsclf just shew them a caper, 
 
 h2
 
 78 THE WEDDING 
 
 Dancing is madness, and I found my head, 
 Bounce on the boarding like a lump of lead, 
 T reeled to be sure, back to my seat, 
 For T could scarcely stand upon my feet, 
 Whilst all around were laughing at the fun, 
 What glory father then in such a son ; 
 Amazing drink, fiddle sounds and shaking, 
 Did cause my head a wonderful aching, 
 Remarkable to a sober thinking, 
 One eye I could not keep from winking. 
 Time passed on, need any more be said, 
 I fell asleep before I went to bed.
 
 DEATH 
 
 The years are gone, so pleasing ouce before, 
 
 And gay anticipation is no more, 
 
 The trees where oft the breathijig spring was seen, 
 
 Now fall away and are no longer green, 
 
 Time marks tlie slow but ever certain fall, 
 
 And solemn silence now possesses all, 
 
 Where are the days so gaily spread with flow'rs, 
 
 And where the youthful sunshine and the bow'rs, 
 
 And those my friends who once with me were here, 
 
 1 call aloud, but none again appear. 
 
 Echo returns the sound and moclis my pain, 
 
 And such I never shall behold again ; 
 
 Death has disturbed every moment sweet. 
 
 And they are carried to their dark retreat ; 
 
 riy then ye pleasures and ye pastimes gay. 
 
 For death has taken all tlie charm away. 
 
 The noise of mirth is now too vain for mc, 
 
 AVhilst the sad n;use all pensive dwells on thee,* 
 
 Dark shadows of tlie sky spread all around. 
 
 And sighs the wind a melancholy sound. 
 
 Yon bell gives warning of thy early fate, 
 
 And does in solemn sounds the talc relate. 
 
 With life no more to trouble or to care, 
 
 O ! cruel death that will no mortal spare, 
 
 * A particular friend.
 
 80 DEAtH, 
 
 Plow cans'l thou cruel, part such tender ties, 
 
 And mock the love that in our nature lies. 
 
 Unfeeling as thou art to scenes of woe, 
 
 And aims thy dart in every path we go ; 
 
 Low lies tlic victim, once the flow'r so sweet, 
 
 Calmly at length unconscious at thy feet ; 
 
 The sacred rite for me remains to pay, 
 
 And help to bear thy loved form away, 
 
 Before tliy coffin, solemn sight to see. 
 
 Mourners behold what human life must be, 
 
 The flow'rs of spring are scatter'd round thy head, 
 
 Fit emblem of the living and the dead, 
 
 What then is life, or all the pleasure past ? 
 
 Since death destroys the bloom of all at last ! 
 
 Here may the heart in agitation wrung. 
 
 Confess what hardly murmurs from the tongue, 
 
 The days are gone the bloom of life is fled. 
 
 And thou unmindful of the tears we shed. 
 
 No voice can reach thee now in tender strain. 
 
 No friendly hand for thee to feel again ; 
 
 They close thee up with trembling and with care. 
 
 And for the soleuni service now prepare. 
 
 Thy weeping friends now give the mournful cry. 
 
 And as they sing the winds sweep sadly by; 
 
 This life is but a shadow gone away, 
 
 Glory is nothing and how short the stay. 
 
 Then bear thee up with heavy step before. 
 
 To see thy once beloved home no more. 
 
 Ye woods, ye nu;al scenes with Mary mourn. 
 
 He leaves you all to never more return. 
 
 The few spectators silently attend, 
 
 And see rcmov'd their dear departed friend, 
 
 One last, one ling'ring look all these invite. 
 
 The winding way now hides thee from their sight,
 
 DEATH. 81 
 
 Slowly the sad procession moves along, 
 
 All singing as they pass, the fun'ral song ; 
 
 'I'he church more solemn seems as we draw near, 
 
 And all around, is desolate and drear, 
 
 Sad tolls the bell, more heavy to impart. 
 
 The last of man, and soften every heart; 
 
 Now with the sacred book and solemn tread, 
 
 'J'he minister comes out to meet the dead, 
 
 That ceremonial service then he reads, 
 
 As back again the sad procession leads ; 
 
 " I am the resurrection and the way," 
 
 Christ spoke the words and tleath the debt we i>ay, 
 
 He that believelh— I have life to give, 
 
 Though he be dead, believe in me and live, 
 
 Beyond this world the fairer iirospects lie, 
 
 "Believe in me" he said, " and never die," 
 
 Sweet were the words to cheer the drooping mind, 
 
 Thus leave the world and all its cares behind, 
 
 The disembodied spirit then is free, 
 
 Passing from time into eternity, 
 
 Mysterious change, unto the good and wise 
 
 What luijipiness above, beyond the skies, 
 
 For by his pow'r, who first bestow'd the breath, 
 
 We live again beyond the reacli of death, 
 
 'i'he grave is ready and the service donn, 
 
 Adieu ! this mortal and farewell thou sun ; 
 
 Let down the cords, a silent spot and deep, 
 
 For ever quiet there shall be thy sleep, 
 
 A liltle earth let fall to mem'ry dear, 
 
 Down on thy cofliu which thou can'st not hear, 
 
 Sad was the sound, as "earth to earth" he said, 
 
 "Ashes to ashes," such shall be the dead. 
 
 Thus all acquaintance with the living ends, 
 
 And closed up by all thy weei)iug friends ;
 
 82 DEATH. 
 
 Sadly indeed I view the solemn scene. 
 
 And melancholy think of what has been, 
 
 Each one retiring leaves thee to thy fate, 
 
 Pass on the way and close the church-yard gate ; 
 
 Alone 1 meditate, the silent spot, 
 
 Where care and bustle is at length forgot : 
 
 Life what art thou, thy dreams of bliss are fled, 
 
 And waves the flow'r upon each grassy bed. 
 
 How still ! all opposition is at rest, 
 
 No more is heard the breathing of the breast. 
 
 No more can disappointment now offend, 
 
 Nor blush of modesty to rudeness bend. 
 
 All that our wishes in this world might save. 
 
 Here comes at last to settle in the grave. 
 
 Envy, that serpent here has lost the sting. 
 
 Blunted by thy shaft thou powerful king. 
 
 The tyrant will in little minds rso keen, 
 
 Here must retire, and remain unseen. 
 
 No angry words are heard but kind repose, 
 
 "Death settles all disputes of friends or foes. 
 
 No sigh is softly breathing heard to say, 
 
 Come here my friend and drive my gloom away. 
 
 No tears arc shed for those tliey left beliind, 
 
 Or wond'ring why so cruel a!id unkind ; 
 
 Side by side they lie in groups along, 
 
 What once was young, or old, or weak, or strong, 
 
 What mercy leaves to time must hither come. 
 
 Although alonger date be found with some, 
 
 Here is their final home, the sons of earth, 
 
 Where then the boast of dignity or birth ? 
 
 The rich the poor alike companions here, 
 
 A small distinction makes the stone appear. 
 
 Time wears the letter which the stone supplies, 
 
 Tlie best is but inscription, and here lies ;
 
 DEATH. 83 
 
 The painted tomb is not more finely drost, 
 
 Than is the sod with native green imprest, 
 
 No sculptnre rich witli mimic art can vie, 
 
 With such as on tlie green sod loves to lie. 
 
 Oft budding forth the lowly graves adorn. 
 
 Fresh liom the dews of night appear at morn ; 
 
 Here some long mouldering, once fair in fame, 
 
 Now lie forgotten, without date or name, 
 
 And here and there a stone with moss is spread, 
 
 Scarcely expressive of the mortal dead. 
 
 Ye mighty conquerors in battles won. 
 
 Come here and see, what fatal death has done, 
 
 From all the hot pursuit and bloody field. 
 
 Must you at last, to death the glory yield ? 
 
 Is this then the reward of all the brave, 
 
 To bend from pride, and sink into the grave ? 
 
 O ! yes it is, nor must you please to stay, 
 
 When death has orders to call \'0u away. 
 
 On every mortal will he sternly wait. 
 
 As well the clown, as minister of state, 
 
 Kings bow before thee, death, and tumble down, 
 
 No more to wear the earthly fading crown, 
 
 Pride or ambition soon will fall to dust, 
 
 And only virtue decorates the bust. 
 
 What parent here from deep affliction borne, 
 
 What tender lover from his mistress torn. 
 
 What child of hope fair promising to prove. 
 
 The worthy offspring of a parent's love, 
 
 What kindred soul to chase distress away. 
 
 With pity beaming through the house of clay, 
 
 llumilit} thy fate, what grave is thine. 
 
 That I may softly tread and wish it mine ? 
 
 Oft steal from care awhile and linger near, 
 
 And mingle with the dust the friendly tear,
 
 84 DEATH. 
 
 Repose in silence in each narrow cell, 
 Thus man retires and bids the world farewe'j 
 Friendship no longer, must the hours emploj 
 No more the sunshine, or the hour enjoy. 
 The welcome smile with early day begun, 
 Those smiles are over and long set the sun, 
 The ready visit to the living made. 
 Here is not found so very often paid, 
 No longer useful or no longer seen, 
 Is just as if the person had not been. 
 Historic pages can no more relate, 
 Living respected, or pursued by hate. 
 The grim despiser of events in life, 
 Settles the matter of all mortal strife, 
 What artist painter, or what poet trade. 
 No particular mention here is made , 
 What cultivated genius, clear and sound. 
 Within the darksome cell, no more is found, 
 What fancy musing on some tuneful string, 
 Or trace the beauties of the coming spring, 
 The soft emotion, or the tearful eye, 
 Buried and cold within tlio dust to lie ; 
 Silent the strings and he who sweetly play'd, 
 And all the action cast into the shade. 
 No more attentive to approving ]n-;iisc, 
 And what a heap of ruin do they raise ; 
 The doctor too, can not his case defend. 
 The fever rages and his life must end, 
 Professor of the art, prescribing i)ill, 
 Must at thy altar bow, he must, he will, 
 Beyond the reach of art, he must endure, 
 And what he cannot kill, he cannot cure. 
 Tiie miser too resigns the glitt'ring prize, 
 Without regret from all mankind, and dies,
 
 DEATH. 85 
 
 No help at hand tu stop the fatal blow, 
 
 And down he goes unwilling still to go ; 
 
 Riches no longer can a respite give, 
 
 The value ceases when we cease to live ! 
 
 No bribing death with coflers full of gold. 
 
 And who persuades him to let go his hold ; 
 
 Death brings an end of every vain pursuit. 
 
 And this by tasting the forbidden fruit ! 
 
 From that sad time what mischief has been made, 
 
 And which to know makes all mankind afraid, 
 
 What fell disease, what sickly scenes of pain, "^ 
 
 Ah ! what a picture terrifying train, r 
 
 What thousands by the dart of death are slain, ) 
 
 Nor love, nor pity, beautiful or pale, 
 
 Can ought against the stern decree prevail. 
 
 In earth, or sea, no matter who or where. 
 
 The order is, thou shalt no mortal spare, 
 
 What crowding sail with every swelling tide. 
 
 Of life, the ocean, circulating wide, 
 
 Each little bark that sails with lightest oai', 
 
 Is but a wreck at last upon the shore. 
 
 And where is he so confident of fame. 
 
 Leaving no more behind him but a name, 
 
 The glory of ambition is the same. 
 
 The soul departs another scene to know. 
 
 And leaves the dross wdth ev'ry thing below. 
 
 Thence to the maker, merciful and kind, 
 
 And if approved shall true glory find, 
 
 For he who conquers death is great above. 
 
 Whose name is sacred, and whose heart is love. 
 
 But he is just although with mercy bound, 
 
 And will condemn, if we be guilty found. 
 
 JMen talk of being fortunate whilst here. 
 
 He is the most, who has least cause to fear; 
 
 }
 
 86 DEATH. 
 
 All things of time however rich or great, 
 
 Is here exliibited, the whole estate, 
 
 No better furniture the grave prepares, 
 
 Than bones and dust, to reconipence our cares. 
 
 Cold, cold the walls, a narrow vaulted cell. 
 
 Nor watch, nor clock the passing time to tell : 
 
 Great change for all, and mortifying too, 
 
 And yet will death no better place allow. 
 
 Then let us wisdom learn whilst yet we can, 
 
 Since to be fading is the lot of man. 
 
 Like early blossoms on the trees are found. 
 
 And by and by they lay along the ground. 
 
 Consider then the prospect and the way, 
 
 Nor let to-morrow hinder thee to day, 
 
 Thy duty and thyself what part to take, 
 
 And from thy dream of bliss awake, awake, 
 
 Kemember thy creator in thy youth, 
 
 Mark well the text and listen to the truth, 
 
 ilefrain from evil lest the years draw nigh, 
 
 In which no pleasure is, and thou shalt die ! 
 
 Learn of the parable, just here at hand, ~^ 
 
 Let not thy house be built upon the sand, ^ 
 
 Lest it should fall a trespass to command, j 
 
 And great the ruin of that place would be. 
 
 Great the destruction that would come to thee, 
 
 Upon the rock thy building then secure. 
 
 Which ever has, and ever will endure. 
 
 Then let the tempest or the storm assail, 
 
 Certain it is they never can prevail, 
 
 No floods of time can ever enter there. 
 
 Then man be wise, consider and beware ! 
 
 Art thou a stranger to thy need of grace, 
 
 Head in the bible where it holds a ])lace, 
 
 Of the redeemer once an earthly guest. 
 
 Love in his path and peace within his breast,
 
 DEATH. 87 
 
 With patient sufFering the cross he bore, 
 And oft forbidden the unfriendly door, 
 Poor and afflicted to the sinner came, 
 Health to the sick believing on his name, 
 Unkind reception did the wicked give. 
 They sought to kill him as he taught to live, 
 He knew the weight of sin, for this was born, 
 And see the finger pointing him to scorn. 
 Tie came indeed the sinful world to save, 
 To tell the way of peace beyond the grave. 
 Believers found what they long sought to fmd. 
 They saw byfnilh and were no longer blind; 
 Hearers could hear the words he sweetly said. 
 By pow'r divine he raised up the dead ; 
 Faith had its joy to see him thus restore. 
 The dead from death, and living to adore, 
 The lame, the blind, could then go on their way, 
 ** Believe in me" he said, " all living may," 
 All who believe, from all their sins are free, 
 Thousands behold, but have no part in me, 
 Divine he was and all his words were true, 
 I do believe them so, and so may you ; 
 The miracles he did, were proofs so clear, 
 That oidy God could make such works appear, 
 Then why did he his noble life resign, 
 To conquer evil was the great design, 
 To give his life a sacrifice for thine. 
 Patient in all the ills he had to bear. 
 And at the cross when cruel men were there. 
 He prays for pardon for those men indeed. 
 Who slew the son of man and saw him bleed, 
 What love like his who gave his life for all. 
 For which 1 fear our gratitude is small, 
 Art thou an infidel and dost thou scorn, 
 Return or wish thou never had been born ? 
 
 }
 
 88 DEATH. 
 
 Consider then and timely warning take, 
 Before this Saviour does thy cause forsake, 
 The craftiness of man he can defeat. 
 And make it bitter where it might be sweet, 
 No longer dare omnipotence defy, 
 Nor trust the devil tempting thee to lie ! 
 Art thou a christian, taking up the cross ? 
 Esteem it gain to thee, with all thy loss ! 
 Rejoice, be glad and faithful in the cause, 
 Although the world with tempting stuflF oppose. 
 Consider time will soon thy glass have run. 
 Haste on thy journey and the prize is won. 
 Nor tarry in the plains, but onward steer, 
 Beware of danger, by delay is near. 
 If thou art faithful, there the safety lies, 
 At sight of thy commission danger flies ; 
 Awake my soul, and let me feel the charm, 
 Whilst yet I feel the blood within me warm. 
 Let me this hint of wasting time beware, 
 Can I love God, and all the world my care, 
 The solemn thouglit of this, not hold it light. 
 Then look within, and see if all be right. 
 For thou art judge and none like thee can tell, 
 Thou knows the action and the motive well, 
 O ! then take heed, before thy days arc gone. 
 And from the past, the future think upon. 
 Then Lord increase my faith, thou knowest me. 
 Let all my confidence be found in thee. 
 The merit thine alone, in every part, 
 And may I worship thee with all my heart. 
 
 M. BELL, PRINTER, FINKLS-STBECT, RICHMOND.
 
 NAMES or SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 NAMES. NO. 
 
 W. J. Anderson, Esq 2 
 
 Mr. W. Allen, Loyburn 
 
 Mr. W. Airey, Bainbridge 
 
 Mr. W. Airey, Counterside 
 
 Mr. Allen, Leybum. 
 
 Miss Allen, Hawes 
 
 Mr. George Binks, Swinnitlnvaite 
 
 Mr. John Bainbridge, Dent 
 
 Mr. Cornelius Brown, of Winksley. 
 
 Mr. Thomas Binks, B. Castle 
 
 Mr. John Burnett, Preston 
 
 Mr. Henry Brown, Ditto 
 
 Mr. Robert Burton, Middleham 
 
 Miss Blake, at Miss Metcalfes, Ditto. 
 
 Mr. John Bowman, Surgeon, Askrigg. . . 
 
 Mr. James Brougham, Ditto. 
 
 Mr. Joseph Butterfield, Crackpot Mill. 
 
 Mr. B. Blenkiron, Trinity College Cambridge. 
 
 Mr. Joseph Baynes, Ballowfield 
 
 Mr, John Baynes, Bainbridge 
 
 Mr. John Blenkhom, Ditto 
 
 Mr. William Blakey, Counterside. . . 
 I 2 
 
 • •
 
 NAMES. ^"• 
 
 Mr. Philip Bennison, Carperby 
 
 Mr. Oswald Baynes, Carperby 
 
 Mr. Robert Blacklin, Wood Hall 
 
 Mr. Benjamin Blenkinsop, Leyburn 
 
 Mr. Thomas Blades, Hawes 
 
 The Rev. H. P. Costobadie 
 
 Mr. David Crosland, West Witton 
 
 Mrs. Costobadie, West Burton 
 
 Mr. George Coates, Ditto 
 
 Mr. Thomas Coates, Speckles 
 
 John Chapman, Esq. Thornton. 
 
 The Rev. John Calvert, Redmire 
 
 Miss Jane Caroline Chalder, Preston 
 
 Mr. Joseph Cradock, Ditto 
 
 Mr. Alexander Chapman. Bainbridge 
 
 Mr. James Coulterd. Ditto 
 
 Mr, William Coates, Crackpot in Swaledale 
 
 Mr. John Coates, Bitto. 
 
 Mr. Charles Carter, Crackpot Mill 
 
 Mr. Michael Croft, Carperby 
 
 Dr. Croft, Ditto 
 
 Miss Jane Clarkson, Wood Hall Park 
 
 Mr. John Dent, Leyburn 
 
 Miss Elizabeth Dunn, Thoralby 
 
 Miss Alice Drummond, Ditto 
 
 Mr. Jas. Dinsdale, R. Mill 
 
 Mr. Alexander Dinsdalo, Nappa Scarr 
 
 Mr. James Dinsdale, Askrigg 
 
 Mr. Samuel Dixon, Crackpot Mill 
 
 Mr. John Dods, Carperby 
 
 Mrs. Alice Dixon, Newbcggin
 
 3 
 
 NAMES. NO. 
 
 Mr. Thomas Edmonson, Leyburn 
 
 Mr. Jolia Fryer, West Burton 
 
 Mr. John Fawcett, Barnard Castle 
 
 Mr. John Fisher, Ripley 
 
 Mr. Irving Gordon, Richmond. 
 
 Mr. Richard Garth, Swaledale 
 
 Mr. James Galloway, Crackpot Mill. 
 
 J. F. Herring, Esq. Swiunithwaite 
 
 Mr. Leonard Ilesletine, West Burton 
 
 Mr. William Haw, West Witton 
 
 Mr. J. Hammond, Solicitor, West Burton 
 
 Mr. Anthony Home, Swalefield. 
 
 Mr. Christopher Hammond, Thoralby 
 
 Mr. Michael Hesletine, Ditto 
 
 Mr. J eremiah Holmes, Aysgarth 
 
 Mr. John Heslop, Low Bolton 
 
 Mr. Hutchinson, Wood 
 
 Mr. Georgo Home, Ditto 
 
 Mr. Thomas Hammond, Ditto 
 
 Mr. Thomas Home, Barnard Castle. 
 
 Mr. Ralph Hauxwell, Middleham 
 
 Mrs. Hauxwell, Ditto. 
 
 Mr. William Hargrave, Askrigg 
 
 Mr. Roger Horner, Bolton. 
 
 Mr. Anthony Hird, Park Hall 
 
 Mr. Adam Hutchinson, King's Arms Askrigg . . 
 
 Mr. Bryan Holmes, Catperby 
 
 Mr. John Harland, Cooper 
 
 Mr. John Holmes, Carperby 
 
 Mr. James Holmes, Leyburn 
 
 Mr. William Handley, Bishopdale 
 
 « fl
 
 4 
 
 NAMES. WO. 
 
 Mr. Henry Holmes, Ditto 
 
 Mr. John Hammond, r ; Ihornton 
 
 Mr. Leonard Hesletiiie, Askrigg 
 
 Mr. Jam.es Hunton, Richmond. 
 
 Mr. Irving, Surgeon, West Burton 
 
 Mr. William Jameson, Carperby 
 
 Miss Barbary Jameson, Ditto 
 
 A. Knowles, Esq. Low Row 
 
 Mr. William Kilburn, Bainbridge 
 
 Kalph Lodge, Esq. Bisbop Dale. . . 
 
 Mr. Thomas Lax, Richmond 
 
 Mr, Tully Lamb, Thoralby 
 
 Mr. James Moore, Redmire 
 
 Mr. John Metcalfe, Askrigg 
 
 Mr. George Metcalfe, Ditto 
 
 Mr. John Metcalfe, Bainbridge 
 
 Mr. Simon Metcalfe, Worton 
 
 Mr. Thomas Metcalfe, Junr. Ditto 
 
 Mr' John Metcalfe, Couiiterside 
 
 Mr. John Metcalfe, Carperby 
 
 Mr. John Mattison, Thoralby. 
 
 Mr. John Nicholson, Thoralby. 
 
 Mr. Michael Nelson, Crackpot Mill 
 
 The Honourable Mrs. Orde 
 
 Three Sons of Ditto. 
 
 Rev. John Orde, Hector 
 
 Christopher Other, Esq. 
 
 Air. James Orton, Wood Hall 
 
 Mr. Christopher Orton, Carperby 
 
 The Honourable T. O. Powlett 
 
 \\'ini;\m Purcliass. Esq. West Burton.
 
 NAMES. NO. 
 
 Mr. William Parker, Leyburn 
 
 Mr. Richard Pattinson, Redmire 
 
 Mr. Parrott, Middleliani, 
 
 Mr. William Park, Rodmire 
 
 Mr. Jonathan Plues, Carperby 
 
 Mr. William Percival, Ditto 
 
 Mr. William Pickard, Ditto 
 
 Mr. John Pickering, Ditto 
 
 Mr, George Plues Ditto 
 
 Mr. Fletcher Percival, Ditto ; 
 
 Mr. William Peacock, Thoralby 
 
 Mr. John Parker, Richmond 
 
 Mr. James Percival, Worton 
 
 Mr. George Pearson, Aysgarth 
 
 Mr, Henry Robinson, Edgely 
 
 Mr, Ridley, Bolton Arms 
 
 Mr. George Ryder, Thoralby 
 
 Mr. Charles Robinson, Wood. 
 
 Mr. John Rodgers, Barnard Castle 
 
 Mr. James Robinson, Hawes 
 
 Mr. William Raw, Bear Park 
 
 Mr. Richard Rooth, Counterside 
 
 Mr. Nathan Raw, Carperby. 
 
 Mr. William Raw, Ditto 
 
 Mr. Routhledge, Middleham Circuit; 
 
 Mr. Joseph Spence, Swinnithwaite 
 
 Mr, Richard Spence Ditto. 
 
 Mr. Sadler, Thoralby 
 
 Mr. Joseph Shields, Barnard Castle 
 
 Mrs. Swales, Middleham 
 
 Mrs. Sewell, Ditto
 
 « 
 
 NAMES. NO. 
 
 Mr. Henry Scar, Askrigg 
 
 Mr. James Smith, Hawes 
 
 Mr. John Smith, Ditto 
 
 Mr. Matthew Stoo,kdale, Crackpot Mill 
 
 Mrs. Patience Scar, Bainbridge 
 
 Mr. John Stoekdale, Worton 
 
 Mr. William Sarginson, Carperby 
 
 Mr. Snowden, Middleham Circuit 
 
 Mr. George Storey, Thoralby 
 
 Mrs. Hannah Tomlin 
 
 Mr. Ralph Tomlinson, West Witton 
 
 Mrs. Dorothy Tatham, Ditto 
 
 Mr. John Topham, Middleham 
 
 Mr. James Thwaite, Thoralby 
 
 Mr. John Tomlinson, Esq. Aysgarth 
 
 Mr. William Thompson, Ditto 
 
 Mrs. C. Topham, Middleham 
 
 Mrs. Thos. Thistlethwaite, Bear Park 
 
 Mr. John Terry, Bainbridge 
 
 Mrs. Jane Trotter, Ditto 
 
 Mr. Anthony Thompson, Carperby 
 
 Mrs. Sarah Thompson Ditto 
 
 Mr. William Terry, Ditto 
 
 Mr. John Terry, Askrigg 
 
 Mr. John Tessimond, Bear Park 
 
 W. Wray, Esq 
 
 Mr. Christopher Willis, Leyburn 
 
 Mr. W. Ware, Leyburn Bank 
 
 Mrs. Walton, West Burton 
 
 Mr. Jamos T. Wray Leyburn 
 
 Mr. Ilenrv Wood, Richmond.
 
 NAMES. NO. 
 
 Mr. Matthew Wood, Old Broad Street London 3 
 
 Mr. John Willis, Thoralby 
 
 Mr. Matthew Willis, Aysgiirth 
 
 Mr. Thomas \\''enslcy, Redmire 
 
 Mr. Other Walker, Ditto 
 
 Mr. Georgo Wailes, Middleham 
 
 Mr. Anthony Willen, Ditto 
 
 Rer. Jas. Wood, Wood Hall 
 
 Rev. John Winn, Nappa Hall 
 
 Mrs. Jeffrey Wood, Wood Hall 
 
 Rev. R. Wood, Wood Hall Park 
 
 Mr. John Willis, Wood Hall 
 
 Mr. George Winn, Nappa Hall 
 
 Mr. J. B. Wood, Askrigg 
 
 Mr. E. Wood, Richmond 
 
 Miss Ruth Walker, Coverdale 
 
 Mr. George Winn, Solicittfr, Askrigg 
 
 Mr. A Whaley, Bishopdale 
 
 Mr. George Wilson, Low Row. 
 
 Mr. A. Wharton, Bainbridge 
 
 Mr. J. Willis, Yore Scot 
 
 Mr. J. Willis. Carperby, Junr 
 
 Mrs. E Willis, Ditto 
 
 Mr. Thomas Willis, Senr. Ditto 
 
 Mr. Richard Willis, Ditto 
 
 Mr. John Willis, Ditto 
 
 Mrs. Mary Willis, Ditto , . . 
 
 Miss Jane Willis, Ditto 
 
 Mr. Matthew Wood, Thornton 
 
 Mr. William Watson, Carperby 
 
 Mr. Wood, Middleham Circuit
 
 M. BELL, PRINTER, FINKLE-STREET, RICHMOND.
 
 EllllATA. 
 
 / M-ifiir-f-tt read Mawcett. 
 t> I -, line t'2 from bottom.. /ocM'i^"^*'"''^'" 
 P. lo, line 1- ^^ ^^^^^j„^ ^or the
 
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