THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES W _. » POETICAL a^rroUrrtton0> BY E. OWEN. ^« Ttiti -faults and the failings are here of the mind, And many an error pei chance may be in it: — Let none then peiiise it but those that are kind, Wlio, tho' they condemn, can forgive the uextmiuute. \\ ATERFORD : PEI^TED BY JOHN BULL. 1826. f1\ PREFACE. In submitting the following pages to the candor of the liberal reader, the Avriter begs leave to make a few observations on their nattiie and construction. ^» -Majay^^ the Poems were written at a ^•6ry- early age ; which she trusts will be considered an excuse for those inaccura- cies that may have escaped her maturer observation. More recently, an affliction, one of the keenest to which human nature is incident, deprived her in a great degree of the pleasures and enjoyments of life. Yet, with a spirit not readily depressed, she struggled against her misfortune, and de- voted some of those moments which would otherwise have hung heavily and joylessly on her hands, to the cultivation of a natu- ral taste for Poetry. Though her subjects < '> 1 ^'^••'?=:!ri IV are often light or trifling, they are at least the original and unsophisticated effu- sions of a heart not learned in the ways of the world ; they speak her thoughts and sentiments, unshackled by form or restraint ; for Nature herself was her in- structress, and her dictates she has inva- riably obeyed. Many of her early and most valued acquaintances will recognise in this Col- lection, poems severally addressed to them- selves ; though some have been altered and corrected for the press, by omitting inci- dents which could be interesting only to individuals. If they recall to memory, days of " bye past time" — awaken in their bosoms one thought of pleasing remembrance, or con- tribute to the amusement of a leisure hour, — her object is attained, and the warmest wishes of her heart fulfilled. coy TENTS. To , with my Poems , 9 Hananwre 10 Tfte Marhiel'^s Return 12 The lost Mariner 22 T^S.-R-z , on the death of her Nephew .... 25 On my Birth-day 2G Review of Childhood 27 To a Tear 28 Tributary Lines to the Widow of the late lamented W.B n 29 To my Brother, on Patrick's day, the anniuersary of his birth 31 My Grave 34 yi CONTENTS. The Primrose ^* The Wish 36 ToA.H midM.P 37 Epistle to 39 A Tribute of regard^ on the death of an amiable Friend 42 Written a few daijs after the Death of my beloved Mother, 43 On the Death of my Father . , 45 To E. J 47 The Shipwreck 49 To a Friend ^^ Written ichile viewing the Funeral of a young Sailor ^3 To a Mother, on the Death of an only Daughter. . 54 q^o £. J , in Paris 50 On receiving a view of Dunbrody Abbey. To J; C •••• s» Lines written in a Summer-house at Cheekpoint.. 62 FairyHiU ^^ The Wreath ^^ Epitaph ^"^ ,>.• CONTENTS. Til On my depai ture from South Wales , 68 To a Lady in delicate Health 69 Invitation to a rural Fete to some Friends 70 To 72 Farewell Lines to a Friend 73 Reflections on Bolton 74 To my Sister, from N. Wales 75 Oti the Death of a favorite Linnet, which expired in a young Lady's bosom 77 To , on hearing his departing Foiitsteps . . 78 To jwith an Everlasting Flower 81 Ej>istleto A.H- 81 OntliePeat]i,pfJ. Gilgum 84 T^lhe-Memory of Doctor Ware 85 Written after attending the Funeral of an old and faithful Servant , . 86 To E and M , on receiving a wreath of Flowers 87 The Dandy in Love 88 To my Sister, from London 89 To • , in sorrow 91 On a Lock of Hair 92 Yiii CONTENTS. On the death of an amiable Young Man 95 To , who promised me an JEolian Harp . . 95 To Amanda ■ ®® Extracts from Llewellyn, an unpublished Poem., 99 RECOLLECTIONS, &c. TO , WITH MY POEMS. A PARTIAL Friend thou art, — then ah! peruse Those simple Poems with a lenient eye ; The gayest may pjprcliance an hour amuse, The saddest cause a sympathetic sigh. The^'reemyematic of thy Bertha's* years, BV" ^ttntriO, enter now the cot with me, TJie hoqie q£ peace and industry, Art«t crumbling wrecks to tell From-wliat a tow'ring height they fell. Here, daughters of the smiling spring. Your choicest gifts of nature bring, — The wand'rer comes, your tributes show'r, To greet him to his native bow'r. — I must conclude — the spell is done, The little fickle Muse is gone ; E 34 POETICAL But oh! my Brother, never yet, Shall Bertha's heart thy love forget ; — May pleasure smile on Patrick's Day, And health to thee, tho' far away. MY GRAVE. Let Dasies grow upon my grave, Fair emblems of my early bloom ; Let golden Kingcups gently wave, Upon my unadorned tomb. And let the Vi'let too be there, For Bertha lov'd this modest flow'r, Whose purple blossoms deck'd her hair, In reckless childhood's blissful hour. RECOLLECTIONS. 35 THE PRIMROSE. 1 SAW the Primrose of the vale. In early bloom expand, As by the morning's balmy gale, Its tender ieaves were fann'd. I piaclfd the little modest flowV, To grace my thoughtless breast. But ah ! I moum'd the luckless hour, I view'd its simple crest. For soon it hung its golden head. Its tints could charm no more ; A tear of youthful grief I shed. For all its beauties o'er. 36 POETICAL THE WISH. GriVE me the silence of the lonely vale, To listen to the woodlark's merry tale, Where, calm and tranquil as the Hermit's cell, Deceit, nor sweet lipp'd flattery can dwell: — How calmly would my days unnotic'd glide. From wild ambition free, and empty pride ; The lark at morn my matin-bell should be. My vesper-song, the night-bird's melody. Chaste Cynthia's beams should guide me when astray, And lead my footsteps through each devious way. RECOLLECTIONS. 37 TO A. H , & M. P- H»w swiftly roU'd the hours away. Upon that oft remember'd day, "When thou and gentle Mary fair, Sought Bertha's bow'r, to banish care; — And- di4^i,*iniple rhymes impart, One riioment's int'rest to thy heart ? Ah ! from the eye of satire keen, For ever may they rest unseen ; Kind lenient beings, such as you, Alone my humble works should view. I know not why — yet feel 't is so, Thy presence soothes affliction's throe ; My bosom glows with joy elate, Tho'press'd by early sorrows' weight j— 38 POETICAL Then, since the memory is sweet, Of that past day, oft let us meet ; — Oh ! come, my Friends — come here again, I'll ransack papers, heart, and brain, To make the circling minutes pass, Like shadows o'er the tranquil glass Of ocean's calm, unruffled breast, When not a breath disturbs its rest ; My cheek will gain a fresher bloom. My lip its native smile resume, And joy shall reign, aad pleasure ^eet^ Thy footsteps to this calm retreat. y RECOLLECTIONS. 39 EPISTLE TO From Albion's cliffs and Gallia's shore, To Erin welcflme— o'er and o'er, — To ev'ry anxious friend and rue, Thotuchild ortaste and sympathy;— I greetltipe^jgiih affection's smile, Thou'dcn^ment of Erin's isle, And with poetic tribute hail, Thy footsteps to thy native vale : — And thou, my Friend, accept the lay Of friendship, which can ne'er decay,— The impulse of a guileless heart, Which cannot, will not stoop to art: A heart, whose calmest— happiest hours, Were spent 'mid Fancy's blooming flow'rs; 40 POETICAL Tho' I, alas! — with sorrow own, Uncultivated they have blovra. The forming hand of time and care, Is still, oh ! still, much wanting there ; Yet I will cull from vale and hill, Pure Nature's lovely tributes still; Her rocks, and woods, and dells, shall be, A book of knowledge op'd to me ; — I '11 woo her in each wild retreat, The flow'ry vale— the rocky scat,— The leafy grove — made vocal by The woodlark's thrilling melody ; I '11 seek her in her lonely haunts, At middaj, v\hen the shepherd pants Beside the fount, — at eve on high, I '11 trace her in tiie starlit sky ; Wild Nature's scenes shall be my theme, Her charms I '11 sing— tho' some may deem, RECOLLECTIONS. 41 Who bask in fashion's sickly ray, Such verse unmeet for Minstrel lay. ■\Vhen will thy footsteps wander here, The"gloom of solitude to cheer ? With wit and sense, — by pleasing art, To charm alike the head and heart ? Whpce spell, "fike inagic force we feel, Resistless ojyi.our senses steal, »*- ' _ And leads us on, through sweets and flow'rs, To erudition's classic bow'rs. I must conclude — the clock doth tell, 'T is time to bid my Friend— Farewell ! 42 POETICAL A TRIBUTE OF REGARD, ON THE DEATH OF AN AMIABLE FRIEND. 1824, 1 ES, there are bosoms that long shall regret thee, Yes, there are Friends who have mourn'd thy decay; Youthful and lovely, we cannot forget thee, We that have known thee — so brilliant and gay. Clos'd are those dark eyes, late beaming in splendour, Pale are those cheeks, where the rose lent its hue ; Still is that bosom, whose feelings how tender, How warm in affection — in friendship how true ! RECOLLECTIONS. 43 WRITTEN A FEW DAYS AFTER THE DEATH OF MY BELOVED MOTHER. 1811. 1 H^S^mouinful lines on thee, who used to hear IVIy gay and lively verses with delight; These mournful lines on thee, my Mother dear, Thy sorrowing daughter now attempts to write. When I beheld thee cold, who gave me birth ;^ The deep, the tortur'd anguish of my heart; That heart which oft had cheer' d thee by its mirth> A pen more eloquent could not impart. 44 POETICAL 'Till this frail form, like thine, has sunk to rest. It never shall forget thy tender care ; That thou art now, where grief can ne'er molest. Is Bertha's firmest hope, — her fondest pray'r. Ah ! yes, my Mother — thou art now in Heav'n, Thy form alone lies cold beneath the sod ; Thy errors few, — those few I trust forgiv'n. By earth's all-merciful and pow'rful God. Prepare us, Lord, for that tremendous hour. When worldly joys and scenes shall fade away ; 'T is Thou, Omnipotent, who hath the pow'r! Assist us then, Almighty King ! I pray. RECOLLECTIONS. 45 ON THE DEATH OF MY FATHER. London, 9th Month, 1813. A. Father's voice no more will reach, with sooth- ing sound, mine ear, A Father's bffod ho more will dry, from Bertha's cheek the tear, A Father's heart will mourn no more, when sickness dims mine eye ; A Father's heart no more rejoice, when health's young blush is high. When to my country and my home, I once return again. My heart will glow with happiness, ah! not unmix'd with pain, 46 POETICAL Each object must recal to mind my deep and keen despair, The horse — the gig — the crooked stick — the fav'rite easy chair. AH, all, were proud to call him Friend, the rich, the poor, the young, When sickness bound him to his bed, pray'rs rose from ev'ry tongue ; And many a sigh from widow's heart, and tear from. orphan's eye ; "Ah! who," they cried, " when he is gone, will all our wants supply?" His image from my memory, no time can e'er efface,. His form was mark'd by dignity — by sense and thought his face. RECOLLECTIONS. 47 The paths of honour and of truth were those he ever trod ; — Ah ! yes— my Father was indeed—" the noblest WORK "of god." TO E. J^ 1825. Too long does thy letter unanswer'd remain ; Yet still for my Friend, Bertha's heart doth retain A place next to kindred which nought can destroy, 'T is Friendship's and thine, in affliction— in joy ; I scarcely need say it afforded delight, Or that it was press'd by my pillow at night. In hopes that the dream of the morning might bring, The Friend I esteem, like a sunbeam of spring; 48 POETICAL And fancy in slumber deceiv'd not my mind, — Again I beheld thee — gay — social — and kind, — The life of the circle — whose w it like the rays, Of night's star, — as mildly and brilliantly plays. Say, when wilt thou visit the Muse's retreat ? The welcome of Friendship and Bertha, to meet; To talk o'er past scenes in this wild lovely shade, Of climes and of countries thro' which thou hast stray'd ; To frankly confess, that of all thou hast seen. The maids of our own little Island of Green, Alone have the secret the heart to enchain, And matchless in beauty and virtue remain : But what then becomes of the Lady in France? Who kills with a frown— yet can cure with a glance ; Altho' she be all that the heart can desire. Her wit may be brilliant — her eyes may be fire, RECOLLECTIONS. 49 Her voice may be musical sounds to the ear, Her heart may be tender — she may have been dear, To him we have valued so well and so long, To him whaHrst breath'd in the green isle of song ; She may have been these, — still it never can be, No Gallican wife, iiiy dear E d, for thee ; The Muse and myself will cousent to it — never, Hetlun but to-Parfe, — they ' 11 fly thee for ever. THE SHIPWRECK. 1 HE bark was tossd — for the wind was high, And fearfully flew the spray ; 'T was dismal to hear the seaman's cry. Of" lighten by cutting away !" G 50 POETICAL The masts were gone with a stunning sound, And the vessel became a wreck ; The steersman's voice in the din was drowni'd. As he summon'd all hands on deck. The storm increas'd, — 't was an awful night, For the Angel of Death was near. They pray'd to the King of Glory bright, And He turn'd not away His ear. His mighty hand, brought them safe to shore. It was stretch'd in their hour of grief ; When feeble man could perform no more, The arm of the Lord brought relief. RECOLLECTIONS. 51 TO A FRIEND. ForGivs my jests, for they were meant, In harmless mirth and merriment ; I think my Friend has too much sense, At "jtpfles ligftfe-' to take offence, But \>ill.jrejoigg,jthat I retain, The h'utDtfur'Df a fertile brain, And that the Nine oft condescend. To visit his secluded Friend : — The playful Muse I ne'er could part, It is the life pulse of my heart : For when I want to cheat the time, I but sit down and weave a rhyme. On mountain heath, or fragrant flow'r, Thatsweetly blooms near Mary's bow'r; 52 POETICAL The Rose, the gardens lovely queen. Soft blushing 'neath her foliage green; Or Vilet, on its od'rous bed, Or rich Carnation, ruby red. Or Myrtle true— a fav'rile theme, In Poet's visionaj'y dream ; And dear that verdant leaf may be, Unfading type of Constancy. — Now something serious would I say, Then with attention read, I pray, And as a Sister let me write, For thou art dear as Brother quite. — Of false allurements, ah ! beware, — And ev'ry other fatal snare. Which blast the lovely buds of truth, And wither all the hopes of youth. Reward thy tender parents' love, By being all they must approve ; ^ RECOLLECTIONS. 53 I feel — I trust it will be so, In this fond hope remains E.O. WRjprTErN WHILE VIEWING THE FUNERAL OF A YOUNG SAILOR, ^- Who was killed bij falling from the mast. VViTHjthooping colours, see, the Sailors bear Their late gay messmate, to an early tomb ; For his sad fate, they drop the silent tear : Poor hapless blossom nipp'd in life's young bloom. Ev'n I, a stranger to his name and birth, Feel pity's soft emotion o'er me creep ; Yes, I — who lately smil'd in buoyant mirth, For thee, ill-fated youth— can also weep. 54 POETICAL TO A MOTHER, On the Death of an only Daughter. ibwEET flow'ret of May,* thou art faded and gone, — Yet in mem'ry how fresh doth thy image appear, To her who had lov'd thee so deeply — so long — ■ It is heard in her sigh — it is seen in her tear ! And sacred to all be the tear of regret, For we feel the Almighty permits it to flow; And if we read Scripture, we cannot forget, That Jesus our Saviour, for Laz'rus did so. And thou, tender Mother, may'st weep for thy child* The hope of thy fond love— thy Blossom of May, * Alluding to her birth, which was in May. RECOLLECTIONS. 55 In mind so acconiplish'd— in manners so mild, She was snatcli'd from thy arms in the morn of her day. The' sorrow her raantle of sable cast o'er thee, Tho' the peace of thy bosom grief sought to destroy, Ah ! weep not, sad mourner,-she 's gone but before ''\hpe, ^ •£o,pi'?pafrthee a seat in the kingdom of joy. Religion can sooth e'en the sad heart of anguish. When the world's empty pleasures nolonger delight. And tho' for a season the spirit may languish, Yet the beacon of Hope sheds a heavenly light. 56 POETICAL TO E. J ., IN PARIS. 1 HY letter came; — with pleasure's smile, I trac'd the well known hand ; How kind the words — how pure the style, How sweet to hear in Em'rald Isle, From Friend in distant land! 'T was doubly sweet, for Hope had fled, As seasons roU'd away, The Spring her op'ning blossoms shed, The sun had sunk with deeper red, And mark'd thelengthen'd day. RECOLLECTIONS. 57 Then came the time of fruit and flow'rs, And it was pass'd by me, In shady groves, — for in the bow'rs Of Philipstoidn, I spent my hours ; And there I thought on thee. Yes, Friendship may unblushing tell, (Ag<} mine has never rang'd,) How jneaij^yj^ith a ling'ring spell, On thee'wbultl oftimes fondly dwell, Thro' ev'ry scene unchang'd. Then Fancy lov'd to bring to view, Thy form on mountain high ; Or in a bark on ocean blue, Amid the passengers and crew, Beneath the spangled sky. H 58 POETICAL Or in that land, polite and gay, By Seine's resplendent tide. Where wit and genius lov'd to stray, Where great Napoleon had his day. Where Antoinetta* died. Where Francis shone — and Henry rov'd, From camp to lady's bow'r. Where noble Sully vice reprov'd. And fair D'Estrees unrivall'd mov'd, In beauty's fleeting power. Yet tho' thy devious footsteps roam, O'er many a clime and scene, Still may thy thoughts revert to home, The little gem amidst the foam, Thy lovely Island Queen. * Marie Antoinette. • RECOLLECTIONS. 59 And now, adieu ! kind Friend sincere, The Muse I find will go ; But she has promis'd to be here, Again quite early in the year, With thy true Friend, E. O. '*ON RECEIVING A VIEW OF rp^NBRODY ABBEY. TO J. C Tho' we, my Friend, have often stray'd O'er many a hill, thro' many a glade, How chanc'd it that we never met. In this old monastery yet ? ■\Vhere still are seen 'mongst weeds and stones. The holy Friars' mould'ring bones :— 60 POETICAL We might have mus'd 'till busy thought, In fancy's glowing colours brought, The days, — when 'mid those cloisters dim, Was heard the solemn choral hymn ; When this still aisle, — whose canopy, Is now yon clear unclouded sky, Return'd in echoes deep and strong. The matin chime, — or vesper song : O'er silent scenes our steps would rove. Where ev'ry thought was given above ; Thro' broken tombs, and motild'riug cell. Where oft the pious tear-drop fell. And oft aspir'd the pray'r to Heaven, For early sins to be forgiv'n : — And we would mark the mellow gleam. Of evning's radiance mildly stream, In gay and golden tints, between The curling ivy's verdant screen ; — RECOLLECTIONS. 61 While thro' those arches' dim arcade Fantastic forms of light and shade Upon the shrine strew'd pavement play'd ; 'Till fading'in the sombre grey, Of parting twilight's dubious ray, Tow'r, pinnacle, and spire would seem, Dissolving like a morning dream. — AdifeufTTfJ' Prtend— when summer smiles, We '11 «fander o'er those gloomy piles, And realized the view must be, Which I have faintly sketch'd for thee. 62 POETICAL LINES Written in a Summer-hnuse at Checkpoint. 1824. \V ELCOME to this calm retreat, Cail'd the little fancy tow'r; Sbelter'd from the summer heat, Freely pass a social hour. Eastward turn — and you behold. The Abbey, graceful in decay, — Westward — mark the clouds of gold. Glancing iu the setting ray. Here a hill,^ — and there a vale, — Taste delight in such a view ; Now a bark with spreading sail. Gently skims the river blue. *" RECOLLECTIONS. 63 Kindred love doth here repose, In each other, all are blest ; — May that peace which virtue knows, Shed its iuushine o'er each breast. .FAIRY HILL. JVlY*5l4rse can no longer be still, On a spot so luxuriant and gay, I write in thy praise, Fairy Hill, And the subject must sweeten my lay. How beautiful art thou at morn, Refresh'd by the dews of the night, When glittering spangles adorn, Thy blossoms of blue, pink, and white. 64 POETICAL When Nature her beauties bestows, When soothing the hum of thy bees, When sweet as the breath of the rose, Young Zephyrus sighs thro' thy trees. How pleasant at noon to retire, From the glare of mid-day to the shade, Where envy itself must admire, The neatness around us display'd. And lovelier still to survey, At eve— when the soul is at rest, The beams of the sun's setting ray, Kiss lightly the blue river's breast. RECOLLECTIONS. ^ THE WREATH " On earth what various tastes we see, " Ev'n in the clioice of flow'r or tree, " And sure by Heav'n it was design'd, " Thal^ach is "of a different mind. " — ThuS;.tlKiu^ht^renzo, young and gay, As fanc>:,lfed,one summer day, He rov'd along the hill or strand, To gaze upon the prospect grand ; The abbey tow r,— the distant bay,— . The ruin'd church — from ages grey : Meantime— the passing hour lie whil'd In weaving ev'ry flow'ret wild, Tiiat bloom'd along the valley's breast. Then sought his Friend— and thus confest : 66 POETICAL " This fragrant wreath which I 've entwin'd, " Where flow'rs of various hues we find, " I liken to the beauteous maids, " Who grace these lone and lovely shades : — " And oh ! what emblem seems more meet, " For woman — than the blossom sweet ; " Altho' it ne'er can equal thee, " In truth, or pure simplicity. — " Fair Emily, that bends beneath " The mountain breeze — is purple Heath ; — " Amanda — mild and gentle maid, " Is modest Lily of the shade; " In Arabella's graceful mien, ** The Harebells slender form is seen; — " Young IMary's blooming charms disclose, " The sweets and fragrance of the Rose; " And in her sister's locks of gold, " The goi 'en King-cup we behold;^ ^ RECOLLECTIONS. 67 " Eugenia's beauties must adorn, " Where'er they bloom — she 's sweet Hawthorn ;- " And tender Emma — kind and true, " The Vi'let gemm'd with morning dew ; " That little plant»j-whose leaf is three, *' Hibernia's pride, — who shall it be ? ** 'T is she whose heart will ever glow, " W4fh love fjpr Erin's isle, '■ '--»' -*** E. O. EPITAPH. XJn HEEDED now, the wintry storm. May rave above my faded form ; Unheeded now, the summei-'s bloom. May waft its fragrance o'er my tomb; 68 POETICAL Unheeded now, the voice of fame, Ambition's call — the hero's name, The battle-cry unheard may burst, It cannot charm this mould'ring dust. — Pause — Reader, ere thy steps depart, This clay was once — what now thou art, Gay, lively, volatile, as thee. Yet what I am,— thou soon may'st be. ON MY DEPARTURE FROM SOUTH WALES. Blame not thy Bertha if she shed no tear, On leaving Wales, and many a Friend sincere ; For ah! what tongue can paint the pow'rful spell, Which binds the wand'rer to her native dell.— ^ RECOLLECTIONS. 69 Adieu ! once more— yet still a thrilling pain, Assails my heart,— we ne'er may meet again; That awful thought hath pow'r to dim my eye, And from iny heart to draw a sadd'ning sigh ; But hope's consoling balm is ever near, To give relief, and banish ev'ry fear. _,* '• ^--^ .«■* TO A LADY IN DELICATE HEALTH. T. HE lovely Rose with paly blush. More charms us than the ruddy dye, That gilds the rich Carnation's flush, — From such a gaudy flow'r we fly. 70 POETICAL The purple Vi'Iet of tlie fields, Gives more deliglit than Tulip gay, The Primrose pale more odour yields, Than all the blooming flow'rs of May. 'T is so with thee, sweet geutle maid, A milder beam thy charms impart, Tho' o'er thy cheek the roses fade. Its soften'd beauties touch the heart. INVITATION TO A RURAL FETE TO SOME FRIENDS. If you refuse, 't will give me pain, Then let me not request in vain, That you with me will pass away To morrow ev'ning — s' il vous plait. Tho' splendour may not deck our feast, 'T will have variety at least ; • RECOLLECTIONS. 71 With mirth we '11 banish ev'ry care, And pleasure's smile shall greet you there. Then come and grace our rural fete, And view the Muses' lov'd retreat, "Where ev'ry breeze from Snowdon's peak, Brings health to Bertha's faded cheek. If you look round — 't is but to see, "VVltd Natujfte's lovely scenery, D|n,'tfflJuirt5in, glade ;— or to behold, The Ifght clouds fring'd with burning gold ; To mark that blue and boundless sea, In bright waves rippling silently Upon the level sands below, As stilly and serene, — as tho' It fears to break the calm profound That reigns o'er all, — above, around,— Say, Lasses, can you more require ? Can taste itself, aught else desire? 72 POETICAL TO 1 o thee belongs the pow'r alone, Enchanting Bard, whom all admire, To breathe the wildest, sweetest tone, That ever stole from Erin's lyre. Still sing her glorious, ancient days. Her faded fame, — her splendor fled ; Still let her heroes grace thy lays, And wreathe wild garlands for her dead. To thee be fill'd the cup of joy. To thee and ev'ry one about thee, Hibernia's pride— Apollo's joy, — Our Emrald shores would fade without thee. RECOLLECTIONS. 73 FAREWELL LINES TO A FRIEND. Come, little Muse, assist my pen to tell, Tliis gentle stranger, what regret is mine. In bidding him a lOBg, a last — farewell ! From Erin's verdant plains and social clime. In fajj^'n !anc1/gay scenes may charm his eye, ^■' ^ Yetgaicift' ijs^if will sometimes tire, <*" _ Then he',-p"erchance, may heave a pensive sigh, For those he met with by a Checkpoint fire. The little group fond mem'ry may review, Who listen'd to him with attentive ear, Who found it hard to bid a long adieu. Who now can scarce repress the rising tear. Go— stranger, — go— perchance we meet no more ; May safety guide thee thro' the stormy deep. May fav'ring breezes waft thee from our shore. And guardian sprites thy path from danger keep. 74 POETICAL REFLECTIONS ON BOLTON, AND THE SCENES OF MY INFANCY. Dear Bolton, where my gayest honrs were spent, When thoughtless childhood found my heart content, How often round thy hills at morn I stray'd, And when fierce Sol withdrew, I still delay'd; — ■ How often have I climb'd each flow'ry hedge, How often have I rov'd the river's edge, And seen the stately vessels swiftly glide, Upon the bosom of the lucent tide. Or mark'd the busy tars those sails unbend. Which brought to mem'ry then, some absent friend! Past joys like these, my fancy loves to trace, Which time, nor change, can alter or efface. -y RECOLLECTIONS. 75 TO MY SISTER, FROM N. WALES. 1814. 1 ho' many a billow between us doth roll, Thcm'deaxesUof sisters, — thou friend of my soul, In c4stles^f-«flf I am often with thee, — May those visions of fancy soon realiz'd be ! — Tho' pure be the air, and the prospect quite grand, I am oftentimes lonely on Portinllan's strand. And oft heave a sigh, as I rove thro' the blast. For joys that are fled, and for days that are past ; Gay London, indeed, is too often in mind, Not London itself — but a few left behind, A few I shall never — oh ! never forget, Entwin'd to my heart from the hour we first met; To think — in this life, we may ne'er meet again, Can touch my light heart with emotions of pain; 76 POETICAL And nature in forming my heart, I must own, Bestow'd not materials of iron or stone ; — Yet Friendship 's so pure and so hallow'd a flame, That seldom, I fear, we can merit its name ; But tlien there s a bauble— a gay bagatelle, Rluch cheaper, which answers our purpose as well ; This counterfeit friendship, I flattery call. So sweet and so soothingly pleasing to all; — That sways like the pow'r of a sorcerer's skill, The hearts of the wise and the foolish at will. Oh ! ne'er to such art could my Muse condescend, But grant me, kind Heaven, a true hearted friend; Such a Tricud as I found, dear Mar\, in thee, And such, as I hope, thou wilt ever find me. Dear Sister, adieu — may we soon meet again. United in purest afiection!— 'till when, With warmest regards, let my dear brothers know, Th; y 're often remember'd by absent E. O. RECOLLECTIONS. 77 ON THE DEATH OF A __ . FAVORITE LINNET, W7iic/i expired in a young Lady's bosom. 1 iff^ t>irfl \v1iose song we so admir'd, OiKrtl-.viMrii*^ gentle breast expir'd. — Say, Avarbler, say — where couldst thou rest. So calmly as on woman's breast? "Where tenderness and sympathy, Hadcaus'd thee willingly to flee; By ev'ry art in human pow'r, She strove to soothe thy dying hour : — In vain — thy bosom's labring breath, Foretold the quick approach of death, And i\lARTHA, with a pensive sigh, Beheld thy dimly closing eye. 7S POETICAL By her fair hands thy grave was made, Beneath the sweet Arbutus shade, Where thou at silent eve wert laid : And there shall many a blossom bloom. Upon thy wild and simple tomb, And many a flow 'ret's fragrant wreath, Around thy lowly bed shall breathe. TO On hearing his depart ing foot-steps. Un my pillow this morning, I heard thee depart. Each step as it lessen'd sunk deep to my heart; « Farewell !" I exclaim'd, « tender Friend, ever dear, " My sorrows were sooth'd by thy smile or thy tear, " This day must seem lonely and joyless to me, " Unless I devote it to mem'ry and thee." RECOLLECTIONS. 79 I '11 trace ev.'ry poem I heard thee repeat, I '11 tell of adventures I heard thee relate, When fled from life's bustle to wreath fancy flow'rs, In classic retirement, 'midst Kiltra's sweet bow'rs, And ne'er on thy brow could a gem brightly shine, Like the evergreen garland the IMuses entwine. ^ , Say-^u the Poet die ? Never — oh! never; — In the grave may he lie. Yet live for ever. Ages may pass away. But his undying lay. When they are gone, Shall, like a sunny beam, Down time's eternal stream, Float proudly on. 80 POETICAL Tho' bright the Minstrel's fame. Purer is Friendship's flame, Sacred the tie ; Love is a fading flow'r, Friendship hath not the pow'r. Ever to fly. Live on in mem'ry yet, Bertha can ne'er forget, Friendship and thee ; When I am far away, When 'midst the great and gay. Think then of me. RECOLLECTIONS, 8X TO , With an Everlasting Flower. I WOULD present thee with a Rose, Bjj*, like ourselves, 't would fleet away ; This^-tIi»ooiy flower that knows Unfading bloom, — nor tastes decay. EPISTLE TO A. H- Thol 'lt not be forgotten, my earliest Friend, O'Donnell and Fanny have both had their turn, The Muse and myself will with pleasure attend, To one that is dear, and whose absence we mourn. 1j 82 POETICAL I know you remember the days that are gone, When life was the calm of the lake's tranquil breast, When we rose with the lark, and retir'd with the sun. Each eve to our pillows, content and caress'd. With fond hearts around us, — tho' some have since fled, Before us, I trust, to a " bright isle of rest," We sigh, — but^t is selfish to sigh for the dead. At least for the dead that we know must be bless'd. But t is not to thee — my dear Anne, I need tell, My thoughts on so sacred, so hallow'd a pow'r, I know in thy bosom Religion doth dwell, It guides all thy actions and sweetens each hour. Cheekpoint is a wilderness cheerless and drear. No kind-hearted neighbour to knock at our door, ■ y RECOLLECTIONS. 83 And could you behold your poor friends pining here, You 'd say we were never deserted before. Thrstorm 's on tbe hill, and the dark tempest low'rs, The city has lur'd all my friends from the plain ; But sununer soon comes with her smiles and her 4n,artirerf^e the swallows, they '11 flock here again. Adieu! c/im- amze,— give my love to thy mother, Excuse all this nonsense,— poetic you know ; Pray send me a letter, and I 'U send another, To one who is tenderly lov'd by E. O. 84 POETICAL ON TPIE DEATH OF J. GILGUM, Who died on hoard the Packet, on his return from the Hot-Wells. 1 HE white sails hung loose, and the nnchor was weighing, When a poor languid stranger supported by two, The strong, sacred impulse of nature obeying, Sought his own lovely isle, — but to bid it adieu! Relations and Friends, ye were destin'd to lose him, For Death call'd him hence ere to land he was borne, Yet Erin, thy green turf shall heave o'er his bosom, Thy wild flow'rs the exile's lone grave shall adorn. RECOLLECTIONS. 85 TO THE MEMORY OF DR. WARE. An abler pen than mine should write thy praise, For virtue such as thine should ever live. Yet gratitude inspires these feeble lays, THelast sad tribute which I now can give. For those alone, whom ties of nature bound Around my heart, were dearer to this breast; Yet ah ! when far from these, — how kind I found Thee, who art now from ev'ry care at rest. From ev'ry care, from ev'ry sorrow flown. From ev'ry tie which held thy spirit here ; Thy spotless soul ascends to Heav'n's high throne, While friendship smiles, yet drops the sacred tear. SQ POETICAL WRITTEN AFTER ATTENDING THE FUNERAL Of an old and faithful Servant. 1825. When living, I promis'd thee, shouldst thou depart Before me,— a tribute of praise should be thine, The' lowly and poor— yet I valued thy heart ; 'T was faithful and honest — in these didst thou shine. Thy labours are ended ; — beside the old pile, O'ergrown with dark ivy, we buried the deep; And green is the sod of thy own native isle, Beneath it, poor Mary, in peace dost thou sleep. ■ y RECOLLECTIONS. 87 TO E & M- "jOrt receiving a Wreath of Flotvers, Cuo's.most'aupoiislrd child, Thanks the gentle Anna fair, Andthg pretty Martha mild, For the chaplet which she '11 wear, 'Till each blooming flow'r shall die, 'Till its balmy sweets are o'er, Then I '11 part it with a sigh. To return the wreath for more. 88 POETICAL THE DANDY IN LOVE. JjEHOLD him now, on Paddy's land, A sparkling gem adorns his hand, The other placed upon that part. Which once indeed, contain'd a hearty But now it throbs no longer there, — 'T is left with Anna, charming fair. — His mother views him with a sigh. And marks the frenzy of his eye; His quizzing glass is dangling idle. He rides his horse without a bridle, His whalebone stock is out of place, His corset he forgets to lace, His hair in wild disorder tost, Ill-fated youth,— his wits are lost. RECOLLECTIONS. 89 'T is Anna's gift he holds to view, *T is Anna's verses kind and true, That next his bosom fondly press'd, Eep(JSes on his wounded breast : — He is in love, — alas ! 't is true, Aui.irvTiat can*f love's enchantment do: TO MY SISTER. FROM LONDON. 1813. 1 ERHAPS in the grove, on the hill, or the strand, This little effusion may come to thy hand; I hope it may please thee, — I think that it will, At least it may serve the dull moments to kill ; — M 90 POETICAL For well do I know, that at this time of year, Cheekpoint is but gloomy, its prospects but drear: Altho' in the midst of the great and the gay, Of social enjoyment not much can I say; When time's leaden pinions so slowly lag on, How oft do I think of the Friends that are gone. The books we have read, and together approv'd, The walks we have rov'd thro' — the scenes we have lov'd, All crowd in remembrance with sorrow and pain, And mem'ry awakens past pleasure again ; For here in this vortex of folly and noise, My suff 'rings are many, and few are my joys ; Yet a sigh must escape me, on leaving behind, Some hearts that were gentle, and tender, and kind. Who cheer'd me in sickness, and sooth'd me in woe, "Yes, a sigh must escape and a tear-drop must flow; RECOLLECTIONS. 91 But tear-drops and sighs will be very soon o'er. When Erin, I tread thy green bosom once more ; When meeting those Friends I had sorrow'd to part, Tfiose Friends that are nearest and dear to my heart. TO , IN SORROW. OAY, lovely Maiden, — why dost thou delight. In list'ning to the winter's awful storm ? Why dost thou shun the cheering ray of light ? Why languidly thus droops thy youthful form? It was not always thus — thou once wert gay — How brilliant was thy wit, how sweet thy song! But wit and song, alas ! are fled away ; I find thee now most pensive of the throng. 92 POETICAL Rest on this bosom, oh! thou " stricken deer,"- Here let thy sacred sorrows freely flow ; I '11 ^ive thee sigh for sigh, and tear for tear, For I am too the child of grief and woe. ON A LOCK OF HAIR. With thoughts my tongue can ill express, I view this little, shining tress ; For she, upon whose brow it grew, To me was tender, kind, and true ; Oh ! not on earth remains for me, One who could soothe my cares like thee. Dear Mother ! ■y RECOLLECTIONS. 93 ON THE DEATH OF __ AN AMIABLE YOUNG MAN. 1812. l^§o:tf conSStion Friends did tears of sorrow flovr, 4Fa£tI»e§.iIiou tender son, and brother kind, Therv-what must be the anguish and the woe, Of those fond hearts whom thou hast left behind. Thy mother, sisters, and relations near. Who watch'd thy struggling sighs and parting breath, And heard those words of peace, oh! youth most dear, Pronounc'd by thee — whilst on the bed of death. 94 POETICAL Alas ! how hard, to take their last farewell, To think that thou so soon from all must part, Yet still, how soothing — when they heard thee tell, That no dark sin lay heavy at thy heart Tho' thou wert snatch'd, sweet, op'ning, blooming flow'r, So early from a kind, maternal hand. The fervent language of thy dying hour, Prepar'd thee for a brighter, happier land. Be calm — ye sorrows of each troubled mind, Hearts cease to sigh, — eyes weep no more for him. And you,— his young companions left behind ; But emulate the virtues of John Pim. RECOLLECTIONS. 95 TO WgO PROMISED ME AN ^OLIAN HARP. X ERHAPS my new and pleasing Friend, Tliis day the promised Harp will send, r And when 1 hear its magic strings. Give forth their plaintive murmurings, A. . Ll^ejsonie unearthly melody, It w ill recall a thought of thee. — The only hour we ever met. In mem'ry lingers with me yet ; But ev'n that hour reveal'd to me. That thou possessd in high degree. Those innate charms which cannot fade, "Which shun the light, and seek the shade. Ah ! may those virtues ever rest, Untarnish'd in thy gentle breast. 96 POETICAL TO AMANDA. 1 IS not for me, to bind thy brow, When sickness makes thy temples throb, To dry affliction's burning tear, Or banish woe's convulsive sob. 'T is not for me to pluck the thorn, That inly stings thy gentle heart, To soothe thy anguish'd soul to peace; Ah! no, Amanda, — soon we part. Adieu ! adieu ! — ill-fated maid ; — ■ To lull thy griefs, by friendship's calm, Soon may some sympathizing hand, Bestow its soft consoling balm. EXTRACTS FROM -T^IiEW ^ - - AN UNPUBLISHED IPoem. EXTRACTS, &c. &c. L WAS when the day broke lovelily, They Keach'd *moiintaiunear the sea ; — The^ .cpuUl no^ view without emotion, The tterpbling of the briny ocean, Whose bright and boundless bosom shone, Like diamonds in the morning sun. — A stately ship was in the bay, Her sails were full,— her streamers gay, And oft their list'ning ears could hear. The careless seaman's deep'ning cheer ; And they beheld the sudden dash. Of water from the anchor flash. 100 EXTRACTS FROM And mark'd ker loose sail, snowy white, Like seabird's pinions, when her flight O'er distant seas, at eve is done, Hang flagging in the golden sun ; — Old Snowdon rear'd his hoary crest Amid the heav'ns — while o'er his breast, The fleecy vapours heavily, Before the day-beam seem'd to flee. — The landscape was a wintry scene. No spreading branches rob'd in green, Nor op'ning flow'ret bath'd with dew, The eye in smiling beauty drew ; Yet still that bold and rugged shore, A calm and solemn grandeur wore ; It was not beauty — for 't was more : — It was that wild sublimity. In nature's work, which awes the eye, ^ LLEWELLYN. 101 And makes the proudest heart confess, How vain, how weak, — man's nothingness, — I went to guide him on his way ; It was a sultry summer's day ; Tftij'WoodlJilftf's strain came sweet and clear, Fi»ni-Ci> >yu> wood upon the ear ; The deer Had sought the closest dell. O'er which the shady foliage fell, And thro' its depths a limpid stream, Ran, gilded by the noontide beam. — 'T was there bloom'd Ellen's fairy bow'r. Where she had rear'd each beauteous flow'r, Earth's fairest gems, — more rich, more rar*, More beautiful and sweet, than e'er 102 EXTRACTS FROM Perfiim'd those sunny garden isles, Where smiling Spring eternal smiles. — There Jessamines and Roses twin'd, And Woodbines lov'd their arms to wind, In tendrils curl'd luxuriantly, Around some stately forest tree ; So thickly vrreath'd, so closely bound, -v That scarce in autumn could be found, \ One wither'd leaf upon the ground. — J Young VFaltfr paus'd a moment there, And seem'd to breathe a mental pray'r, Then grasp'd my hand ; " Farewell my Friend,— " May happiness thy paths attend !" — I turn'd to speak,— but he was gone ; I saw him wind the steep along. By yonder dark and tufted wood, 'Till on that rugged peak he stood ; '^ LLEWELLYN. 103 He wav'd a long, — a last adieu! And fied, for ever, from my view. — THE LAY OF THE *^ ANCIENT WELCH BARD. The song of the Minstrel 's for thee Cymro dale, Still proudly thy banners may float on the gale, Through storm and through battle thy grey tow'rs have stood, Uuconquer'd and glorious, amid thy dark wood ; The sixteenth stout Baron now sits in thy hall, The knight 's at the banquet — the steed 's in the stall, The red wine is flowing, — the shouts rend the air, And high o'er the feast sit the brave and the fair. — 104 EXTRACTS FROM Tho' lovely the maidens, and blushing the wine, No maid is so fair as the young Eglantine. — A bard that is fam'd for his pow'r and his skill, Has sung of her race, let him sing of them still ; Let him count all the beauties that blaz'd in the hall, But the fair Eglantine is the fairest of all: When she dances, no step in the maze is so gay, When she warbles, no song is so sweet as her lay. When she smiles, all the graces together have met, Her teeth are like iv'ry in bright rubies set: — And this is the maid whom a bard would not sing. Whose hand could give honour to England's proud King. THE EXILE TO HIS NATIVE LAND. Tfao' thy green hills, oh ! Erin, are far from my view. And between us rolls ocean, deep, briny, and blue. LLEWELLYN- 105 Yet my heart is still with thee, thou land of the brave, May thy wild rose and shamrock yet bloom o'er my grave. But if, by forebodings that press round ray heart. From life's gayest season, I 'm destin'd to part, J^y Ulrick, the chosen best friend of my youth, Bet'g^'d-to^erform the fair promise of truth : That my form should be sought in the field of the slain. And be borne in his arms to Hibernia again, That my bones should decay where I first drew my breath, And my actions be told in the dark song of death. It will tell how I liv'd— it will tell how I fell, It will tell how I bade thee, my country, farewell! o 106 EXTRACTS FROM All my errors will fade — all my virtues will live. In that last strain of anguish that feeling can give. Hail ! to thee proud bark, — whose streamers are flying, Hail ! to thy spread sail, — like bosom of snow, Catching the summer breeze, now faintly dying. Scarcely it ripples the water's calm flow. Rich is the landscape of nature and beauty. Deep is the glow of the clouds in the west ; The lord of the valley has flown upon duty. His prince is in danger, his sword may not rest. With eagles he shelters on Snowdon's rude moun- tain, Reposes at eve on a couch of wild heath, LLEWELLYN. 107 Sooth'd by the murmuring sound of the fountain, As gushing it falls to the caverns beneath. Circled by heroes whose courage in battle, Was known, and was prov'd, on their own native shore, Unshrinking they stood 'mid the conflict's fierce "■'* rattle, *Tm»fnplfantly waving the banners they bore. In silence we pursued our way, 'Till rose the burning star of day. Amid the waves, whose splendid blaze, ' Reflected back his golden rays ; — The vapourish fog of dusky hue. Still linger'd on the mountain blue, 108 EXTRACTS FROM The birds their early song resum'd, And op'ning flow'rs the gale perfum'd, And dew-drops glisteu'd on the tree, And sun-beams shot along the sea, While thousand beauties seem'd to rise, To fascinate our wond'ring eyes. We paus'd to gaze upon the scene, So calm, so beauteous, and serene, That Nature in some pensive mood, Methought had form'd that solitude. The young goats sprung from rock to rock, In sportive play,— beneath— a flock Of snowy sheep, more distant seen. Disported on the flow'ry green. A dark cliff tow'r'd above the flood, And there a stately castle stood. Deep bosom'd in an ancient wood ; s ■^ LLEWELLYN. 109 A distant lake— a cottage white, — All — all — •were view'd with soft delight ;- The sun's unsullied majesty, Gleam'd brightly o'er the tranquil sea. — He stopp'd — and with emotion cried, MTiile flush'd his brow in noble pride %— J' Behold — yon streak of darker blue, '^^iiot scffrce my eager eye can view ;" — THien added with extended hand, " Sir Walter,— 't is my native land ; " And those far distant hills we see, Dear Em'rald Isle ! belong to thee. I never shall forget the awe. That o'er me stole— when first I saw, 110 EXTRACTS FROM That ancient Abbey's sbatter'd form, Its massy tow'rs, — some rent by storm. But more by earthly engines riv'n, Than angry winds or warring heav'n ; Those walls, still frowning in decay, That once might boast a prouder day, Ere Taliessin's strain had died, Or Cambria bow'd to Edward's pride. No verdant plain, or wavy wood. The prospect grac'd — alone it stood — A mark for fate, — while sternly frown'd. Its ruins o'er the waste around. One moss-grown wing was standing still. Which show'd the architecture's skill, With pinnacles projecting high, Like lofty cedars 'mid the sky ; With battled wall, and donjon tow'r. Fit fastness for baronial pow'r. " LLEWELLYN. Ill A range of rocks beneath it lay, Which form'd an angle of the bay, Where wildly foam'd the boiling waves, _'^e echoes of whose sea-worn caves, In low and mournful boomings rose. Like some sad measure's dying close. A foot-path through the hard rock hew'd, S(j<»"lfrougbtus to an entrance rude. Where still the huge portcullis hung, And crazy draw-bridge idly swung, In vain and useless mockery ; And there the searching eye might see, The trophied scutcheon — worn and old, Which once the arms and motto told, And still recalled the ancient fame, Of proud Glenowen's noble name. 112 EXTRACTS FROM THE CHAUNT OF NORAH. I FAIN would Strew thy path with flow'rs, Could they be cuU'd by me, But no ! — beneath these sable tow'rs, They wither instantly. The rocks and woods of Morne are fair, The pride of Erin's shore, And roses sweetly flourish there, Alas ! — for us no more. Our prospect here 's the foamy sea; Our dreary lullaby, The lonely owlet's melody, Or sea-bird's mournful cry. LLEWELLYN. 113 Where now the vassals that should meet, Their Baron in the hall ? And where the harp, whose numbers sweet, The captive soul could thrall? The hearts that once beat high, are cold, -^hgMimtrel sleeps in death; Ap^awfijl "prophecy was told, With Edwy's parting breath. — Speak not that fatal prophecy ! — Exclaim'd the sister of Fitzlee, And rush'd into his fond embrace ; But when she tum'd her blushing face, And rais'd her full, dark smiling eye, Still wet with tears of ecstacy ;— He paus'd — as tho' he sought to find, The features he had left behind ; 114 EXTRACTS, &.C. The laughing girl — the mountain maid, In robes of virgin hue array'd, Whose burnish'd locks of golden glow, Fell curling o'er her brow of snow. — 'T was she — but oh !— more bright — more fair;— The ripen'd charms of beauty ne'er, Lent magic to a beauteous face, So chasten'd by a modest grace. — And as her form of finish'd mould, Stood nigh to Norah's, bent and old ; A striking contrast, 't was in truth, 'Twixt drooping age, and blooming youth. — xj FINIS. JOHN BULL, PRINTER, WATERFORD. This book is DUE on the last .^r^\ date stamped below. 10M-11-50(2555)470 REMINGTON RAND - 20 4578 1526 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY AA 000 375 878 6 ^« m \* t ->'«'■ •t^ '^^bdL--^^^*^- "X^