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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 &EJ^
 
 COLLECTION 
 
 OF 
 
 ORIGINAL PIECES, 
 
 IN 
 
 PROSE AND VERSE. 
 
 PUBLISHED ON BEHALF OF THE WIDOW AND OR- 
 PHANS OF THE LATE THOMAS ROBINSON, 
 FORMERLY OF BIGBY, ETC. 
 
 HULL : 
 
 PRINTED FOR JOHN ROBINSON, BY M. C. PECK, 
 1840.
 
 TO 
 
 THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARL YARBOROUGH, 
 
 ETC. ETC. ETC. 
 
 My Lord, 
 
 As a tribute of gratitude to acknowledged 
 goodness — to beneficence, amiable and exalted as the mind from 
 whence it emanates ; and because this little volume attempts, by ex- 
 citing the nobler sympathies of the heart, to extend the practice of 
 those virtues which are at once an ornament and a blessing to human 
 nature ; it is with the utmost deference and respect dedicated to your 
 Lordship, by 
 
 Your Lordship's most obliged. 
 
 And most humble Sen'ant, 
 
 JOHN ROBINSON. 
 Barnethy, October, 1840.
 
 T7? 
 
 SUBSCRIBERS NAMES. 
 
 The Right Hon. Earl Yarborough, 10 
 
 copies. 
 Mr. R. J. AtkiusoD, Brocklesby. 
 
 — Stephen Gibbins do. 
 
 — Geo. Hopkinson do. 
 
 — Wm. Ball do. 
 
 — W. Kirman do. 
 
 — VV. Mason do. 
 - Joseph Overton do. 
 
 — \V. 13urnetby do. 
 M. Grayburn, Esq., Melton, 
 
 B. Ainsworth, Esq. do. 
 Mr. J. West do. 
 
 — Wni. Marris do. 
 
 — W'm. Burton do. 
 
 J. H. Smith, Esq., Melton Wood. 
 Mr. G. Taylor, Barnetby. 
 
 — ^Vm. W^st do. 
 
 W. Hudson, Esq., Kermington. 
 
 C. Marri-, Esq. do. 
 
 Mr. L. riolines, Newstead Abbey. 
 W. F. Holgate, Esq., Keelby Grange. 
 W. C. Atkinson, Esq., Bvigg. 
 Jlr. J. Jobson do. 
 
 W. Hesletine, Esq., VVorlaby. 
 Rlr. Robt. Wilson, Croxton. 
 
 — G. Horn, Ulceby. 
 
 — J. Marris, Cadney, 2 copies. 
 
 — J. Spence, Househam. 
 
 — Thos. Walker, Redburn. 
 
 — R. Wells, Ulceby. 
 
 — W. Whitehead, Cadney. 
 
 — Thos. Edlington, do. 
 
 — E. Chapman, Keelby. 
 
 — Francis Humphrey, liabrough. 
 G. C. Healey, Little Limber Grange, 
 
 2 copies. 
 Mr. Geo. Fitch, Limber. 
 Mrs. Farr, do. 
 
 Mr. W. Headley do. 
 
 — Thos. Marris do. 
 Dr. Abbott, Brigg. 
 
 A. Smith, Esq., Brigg. 
 
 Brigg. 
 
 Mrs. Gregory 
 
 B. H. Patterson, Esq. 
 
 Mr. H. Mappleebbv, Habrough. 
 
 — W. Bygott, Rve Hill. 
 
 — Woodlifl', Ulc.by 
 
 R. Barnes, Esq., Thornton. 
 Mr. Thos. Stovin, Barrow. 
 Geo. Maw, Esq., \Xe\k House. 
 Mr. R. Taylor, Cabouru. 
 
 — T. Dixon, Irby. 
 
 — W. Bormau, do. 
 
 — J. Barkworth, Limber. 
 
 — W. Aby, Barnetby. 
 
 — T. Brooks, Croxby. 
 
 — G. Brown, Thornamby, 2 copies. 
 
 — T. Sowerby, Gunnerby. 
 
 R Nainby, Esq., Barnetby-le-beck. 
 Mr. T. Goulton, Croxby Hall. 
 
 — D. Bell, Caistor. 
 
 — T. Mason, Heeling. 
 
 — W. Gooseman, Grimsby. 
 
 — W. L. Borman, Swallow. 
 
 — W. Farrow, do. 
 Geo. Whitlam, Esq., Cuxwold. 
 G. P. tkipworth Esq., RothweU. 
 Mr. Geo. Jeffrey, Keelby. 
 
 — Thos. Bowers, do. 
 
 — A. Atkinson, Brigg. 
 
 L. Uppleby, Esq. . Wootton House. 
 Rev. — Gifford, Wooton Vicarage, 2 
 copies. 
 
 — J. Byron, Killingholme. 
 Mr. W. Marshal], Brigg. 
 
 — W, Uppleby, Bouby. 
 
 F. Hudson, Esq., Kirmington Vale. 
 Mr. W. P. Richardson, Horkstow 
 
 — J. Hudson, do. 
 Rev. C. Turner, Grasby 
 Mrs. Turner do. 
 
 Mrs. Wells, Brigg 
 
 Mr. Squires, do. 
 
 — G. Browley, M'ooton Dale 
 
 RAi 786
 
 BROCKLESBY. 
 
 Brocklesby, six miles north from Caistor, and 1 ^ north from Great 
 Limber, where Earl Yarborough erected a commodious Inn for the 
 accommodation of travellers and gentlemen. At this Inn his Lord- 
 ship's Birthday is annually kept on the 8th of August. Population 
 262, including Little Limbjer. Brocklesby Park, the principal seat 
 of Earl Yarborough, is extensive and diversified by numerous plan- 
 tations and swelling grounds. In the Park is a Chapel and Mausoleum, 
 commenced 1807, under the direction of James Wyatt. The Chapel 
 which was consecrated by the Bishop of Lincoln, in 1794, is a Cir- 
 cular Doric Building, surmounted by a dome. The elevation on 
 which it stands is a tumulus, supposed to be Roman, The Mansion 
 has been extended on the south front by a Gallery, erected in 1807. 
 It contains a valuable collection of Pictures bequeathed to his Lordship 
 by George Aufrere, Esq, of Chelsea. The Gallery is 67 feet by 27 feet 
 6 inches, and 21 feet high. Besides the Pictures, it contains some 
 Antiques, and a Colossal bust of Niobe in Parian marble. Lord 
 Yarborough was created Earl Yarborough in 1837.
 
 DINNER 
 
 IN CELEBRATION OF EARL YARBOROUGH'S BIRTHDAY, 
 
 August Sth, 1840. 
 
 According to annual custom the tenantry and friends of the Right 
 Honourable the Earl Yarborough celebrated the natal day of that 
 Nobleman by a Dinner at Mrs. Farr's, the new Inn, Great Limber. 
 A spacious tent was erected in a field adjoining the Inn, for the re- 
 ception of the numerous party. At four o' Clock, upwards of one 
 hundred gentlemen sat down to a most sumptuous Dinner, served up 
 ip Mrs. Farr's inimitable style. The bill of fare consisted of every 
 delicacy of the season ; and the justice done to the various dishes by 
 the company shewed that the skill and judgment of the worthy hostess 
 could not be questioned even on one point. The Wines were of first rate 
 quality, and the Dessert excellent in the extreme. The Band of the 
 North Lincolnshire Yeomanry Cavalry was in attendance, and played 
 at intervals during the evening. 
 
 Francis Isles, Esq. of Barnetby-le-beck, efficiently occupied the 
 Chair : Joseph Kirkman, Esq. of Ainderby, for his Vice. 
 
 The Cloth having been removed : 
 
 The Chairman rose to propose "the health of the Queen, and may 
 God preserve her," Drunk with enthusiasm. 
 '•God save the Queen" by the Band. 
 
 Tlie Chairman then gave "the health of Prince Albert;" after 
 which " the Queen Dowager and the rest of the Royal Family," which 
 were severally drunk enthusiastically. 
 
 The Chairman again rose and said, after witnessing the manner in 
 which the various toasts given that day had been received, he was
 
 6 
 
 fully assiired that the one he was about to propose would also meet 
 with a good reception. He could scarcely find words to express his 
 feelings on that interesting occasion, and that circumstance he deeply 
 regretted, because on former occasions of that nature the chair had 
 been filled by gentlemen who possessed great and distinguished talent, 
 and who at all times to the best of their ability passed the highest prciise 
 upon that family, the head of which was the cause of their assembling 
 together on that day. He, the Chairman, had but little to say, but 
 he would be indeed wanting in gratitude did he on this occasion omit 
 to express, as far as he was able, his thoughts and feelings respecting 
 that nobleman, whose public and private character was so well known 
 to them all. Whether he was considered in the position of an honest 
 patriot, or in his private character, he stands pre-eminently high, and 
 as a father and a landlord he knew of no other person who so deser- 
 vedly obtained the admiration of all who had the honour of knowing: 
 his Lordship's kind, hospitable and generous character. At the same 
 time it must be indeed pleasing to his Lordship tosee that the unbounded 
 hberality of himself and his forefathers had been so warmly responded 
 to by his tenantry who had at all times evinced their gratitude by 
 honouring this and former meetings w'ith their presence. The ten- 
 antry know when they have a hberal landlord ; and when that was 
 the case, the utmost unanimity of feeling always existed. At that 
 meeting there were young farmers whose fathers, grandfathers, and 
 great-grandfathers, had occupied farms under the family of Earl 
 Yarborough ; and those young farmers he saw around him were now 
 wealthy, intelligent, and respected. The Chairman after again alluding 
 to the generosity and hberality of his Lordship and his forefathers, con- 
 cluded by proposing "the health of the Earl of Yarborough, and long 
 life to him." The toast elicited immense applause, which continued 
 for a considerable period. 
 
 The Band then played Lord Yarborough's favourite Mai'ch. 
 
 The Chairman said he again rose with extreme pleasure to propose 
 to them another toast, which he W'as confident would be as warmly 
 received as the preceding one : he only need mention the name of 
 Lord Worsley, when he was certain that his health would be drunk.
 
 as it ought to be, in a manner worthy of the distinguished individual 
 he liad just named. There were few pubhc men more respected. As 
 a representative of that division of the county in parhament, no mem- 
 ber discharged his duties more efficiently : he was, moreover, a kind 
 hearted hberal nobleman, and his character in private life could not 
 be surpassed. The health of Lord Worsley. Drank with honours. 
 
 The Vice-President gave "the health of Lady Worsley and her 
 infant daughter." In doing which, he very ably eulogized that lady; 
 and concluded by stating that she possessed every quahfication which 
 adorned the sex. The toast was drunk with honour. 
 
 W. Uppleby, Esq. proposed the health of the Hon. Capt. Dudley 
 Pelham and his Lady. Drunk with honours. 
 
 T. Skipworth, Esq. of Cabourn, proposed the health of Sir Joseph 
 and Lady Charlotte Copley. To the lover of the chase he was well 
 known as being a most excellent fox-hunter ; and very few could sur- 
 pass him in that noble sport. Lady Charlotte w^as universally res- 
 jjected ; and the estimation in which she was held by the Queen was 
 a sufficient proof of the amiability of her character. The speaker al- 
 luded to the love existing between Earl Yarborough and his children : 
 and the company drunk the toast most enthusiastically. 
 
 W. Richardson, Esq. of Limber, after eulogizing the public and 
 private character of R. J. Atkinson, Esq. proposed his health, which 
 was neatly responded to. 
 
 Toast — "The Army and Navy." Several of the company called 
 upon Capt. Skipworth, whose gallant services in Spain and Portugal 
 had been so higlily spoken of by Officers of unquestionable abihty, 
 to respond to the toast ; but he not having been engaged in the Bri- 
 tish service, the call was over-ruled. 
 
 Comet Hudson, on being called for, observed that he Uttle thought 
 he should have had the high honour to return thanks on behalf of the 
 Army and Navy ; and after eulogizing the Colonel Commandant, as 
 an Officer, and the general respect and esteem entertained towards 
 him by his regiment, and the pleasure they experienced in going out 
 with him on permanent duty, proposed " the health of the non-com- 
 missioned Officers and Gentlemen of the North Lincolnshire Yeo- 
 manry Cavalrv.
 
 s 
 
 il. J. Atkinson, I'2«q. observed that lie felt no little pleasure to 
 find that the agents of Earl Yarborough had discharged their duties 
 to the satisfaction of those who had awarded them their esteem. — 
 They did no more than their duty ; and where a reciprocity of inter- 
 ests existed, it was highly desirable that the utmost good feeling and 
 understanding should exist. 
 
 R. Nainby, Esq. said, that, having the pleasure of seeing several 
 strangers present, who had come from distant parts of the country 
 to testify their respect to Earl Yarbrough, he could not refrain 
 from proposing as a toast " the non- tenantry of Earl Yarborough." 
 
 AVm. Torr, jun. Esq. of Riby, briefly returned thanks. 
 
 P. Skipworth, Esq. said the time was flying rapidly away, but be- 
 fore separating, he had a toast to propose to the Burgesses of Great 
 Grimsby. He would give " the Mayor and Coq)oration of that an- 
 cient borough." Tlie toast might be by some considered a poUtical 
 one, but he would assure them it was not so. Mr. Skipworth then 
 alluded to the advantages derived from the beneficial measures carried 
 into eftect by the Corporation. The Agricultural interest was also 
 spoken of as being closely identified with the trade of the borough. 
 
 Mr. Joyce, of Grimsby, returned thanks. 
 
 The health of the Vice-President ; of Mr. Gibbs, of Worlaby ; Dr. 
 Parkinson; Mr. Empson, of Bonby; J. W. Yorke, Esq. were given, 
 and acknowledged; as was also " Success to the North Lincolnshire 
 Agricultural Society." 
 
 The company separated at about 10 o'clock, much pleased with the 
 entertainment of the day. 
 
 John Robinson. 
 Barnetby, 8th Aug. 1840.
 
 THE OXONIAN 
 
 A POEM. 
 
 BY THOMAS ROBINSON. 
 
 What is it womau cannot do? — Otway. 
 
 I* 
 
 r|^HE wedded fair, whom "gay seducers" move 
 
 To catch the fleeting joys of lawless love. 
 With crafty art the slippery pathway treads 
 That, wrapt in Error's night, to ruin leads. 
 Chief she on him who guai"ds her honor smiles, 
 And with fair-seeming love his heart heguiles : 
 Stills all his secret doubts, should doubts arise. 
 And every wile to shun detection tries. 
 Yet oft-times, prying thro' the faithless shades. 
 The fickle goddess Chance her path invades ; 
 And, ere on guilt with thoughtless haste she run. 
 Compels her feet the dang'rous track to shun. 
 But, as intent to save the wanderer's fame, 
 To check, not ruin, kindly hides her shame. 
 So many a pair to Chance their quiet owe. 
 Who thus repairs with half-infracted vow ; 
 The frighted fair her wayward wish resti-ains,
 
 10 
 
 And not one chattering prude her honor stains ; 
 While, stranger to that wish, her happy spouse. 
 All light of heart, no jealous anguish knows. 
 
 Nor only in fair Fashion's gay domain. 
 Where pohsh'd dames and titled tempters reign ; 
 Wliere soft seduction strives with arts refin'd. 
 To sap the hulwarks of the spotless mind. 
 Does Chance the high-born breast in quiet keep. 
 And seal the eyes that else might wake to weep. 
 But, round the scene where rural beauty glows„ 
 Seducers lurk, and clownish worth oppose. 
 Oft tempt the /air her cottage to despise. 
 And to their arts she falls the guilty prize : 
 Unless kind Chance avert the lawless hour, 
 And save the wanton by her fav'ring power. 
 
 Ye sons of glory, who our vales infest. 
 Who deem all virtue, modesty, a jest. 
 Thro' towns or hamlets prowl alike for prey. 
 While peace and honor mourn your blasting way — 
 At whose fierce looks the fearful cuddens shake, 
 But who no war but on frail woman make ; 
 Whether in scarlet dight, or rarer blue. 
 Ye shine the heroes of — each grand review ; 
 Or, in sly guise another robe degrade. 
 And cloth'd in darkness ply your purtive trade ; 
 Whate'er your state, no flatt'ring muse attend. 
 And leam your fame and quiet to befriend : 
 For, in some hour, tho' all suspicion sleep. 
 Detection, led by fickle Chance, may peep. 
 So wounded honor drag you to the bar. 
 Where law defy'd compels the costly war : 
 Or, be the fav'ring diety your friend. 
 Dangers on all immoral acts attend ; 
 And sneers, to public ridicule ally'd. 
 May mock your self-respect, and sting your pride.
 
 11 
 
 But, lest advice without example fail. 
 For plain conviction — take a merry tale ; 
 
 Philo the witty, was at Oxford bred. 
 And in the art had strange perfection made : 
 Master of Roman lore, he could full well 
 The wond'rous tales of wond'rous Ovid tell — 
 How maids, by fairies, were transform'd to streams. 
 Men into trees, and more amazing dreams. 
 Enough to freeze the virgin's fearful heart. 
 And make, with dread, the stoutest rustic start ; 
 Was vers'd in Homer, in old Lucian too. 
 And all the saws of Aristotle knew : 
 Ev'n Euclid ken'd, and tho' a man of whim. 
 Pons asinorum had been pass'd by him. 
 Circles he made, and figures with three sides 
 Truly could scan, and tell what rules the tides ; 
 And by the motions of the sun and stars 
 He knew what busy dsemon rul'd the wars. 
 Deep in astrology 'twas thought lie dabbled. 
 And other arts, by superstition fabled — 
 Dealt with foul sprites in may a dextrous trick. 
 And had the hardihood to raise old Nick. 
 
 His aid was sought for all the hamlets round. 
 When stalking ghosts had left the dark profound. 
 Who, glaring near the rustic's nightly road, 
 His wits ejected from their weak abode ; 
 Nay ev'n, tis said, o'er witches he prevail'd 
 When charm'd horse-shoes and crooked groats had fail'd. 
 
 He, ever as the circumvolving year 
 Vacations brought, would to old Lincoln steer, 
 Where, proverbs say, the devil always reigns, 
 And spite of conjurors, his post maintains. 
 There, circled by his friends, he'd deal the joke. 
 Throw forth the merry pun, and drink and smoke. 
 On tip-toe spirits, ever free and gay —
 
 12 
 
 Care, where he went just grinn'd and sneak'd away. 
 
 Oft, in the Autumn, he to Kelsey came. 
 To visit friends, and rouze the flutt'ring game. 
 His manners, candid, generous and kind, 
 Gain'd liim the love of ev'ry labouring hind ; 
 And tho' that love was not immix'd with fear 
 Of his enchanted books, yet 'twas sincere : 
 Ev'n fearful maids rejoic'd to see him come, 
 ^Vll0 was the soul of mirth at harvest home. 
 
 Pleasure his object, there his time was spent. 
 And oft on Saturdays to Caistor went : 
 There, at the Talbot, would he stay and dine. 
 
 And with some joUy p n take his wine ; 
 
 To jovial Bacchus raise the merry song. 
 
 Then homeward haste the midnight moor along. 
 
 One night, as musing on his way he pass'd. 
 Some envious spirit rais'd a furious blast : 
 Clouds roll'd on clouds o'er Heav'n's fair face pi-evail. 
 And hoodwink twilight with their thickest veil : 
 Swift the fork'd lightnings flash athwart the gloom. 
 And warn the traveller to hasten home. 
 
 Philo, all lonely on the devious plain, 
 By the brief gleams explor'd his path in vain : 
 For still, as fled the glare of livid light, 
 A tenfold darkness mock'd his aching sight ; 
 Wand'ring, he still the rushy bottom cross'd. 
 And in the many-roaded dale was lost. 
 
 Now from the gath'ring West loud thunders roar'd. 
 Prone from the low'ring clouds a deluge pour'd. 
 While he, beneath united rain and wind. 
 Sighs for his shelt'ring great-coat left behind : 
 For oft in mirth convenience we despise. 
 Till by its smarting opposite made wise. 
 
 Long he, bewilder'd, strove his path to gain. 
 Baffled and beat, at length he slacked the rein :,
 
 1:3 
 
 Left to himself, th' impetuous courser flew 
 Swift as the winged dart the tempest through : 
 At last a feeble flick'ring flame he spy'd. 
 Which threw its rays across the gloomy void : 
 From a small cottage beam'd the welcome light, 
 And in the lightning's pauses cheer'd his sight. 
 He, lifting his flapp'd hat, now nearer drew. 
 While their loud howls tremendous blasts renew. 
 Gaining the cottage, he alights with speed. 
 And to an outhouse ties his panting steed. 
 Long at the door he knock'd, and call'd in vain, 
 Intreating shelter from the wind and rain, 
 'Till accents, no wise gentle, struck his ear, 
 " Whoe,er you be, you find no entrance here ; 
 " My husband's far from home, and in your pow'r, 
 •'1, his lone wife, may rue the luckless hour." 
 In humbest tone, he long the dame implor'd. 
 But stubborn, and unmov'd, she kept her word. 
 "If," she rejoin'd, "you shelter only crave, 
 " In yonder stable you may shelter have : 
 " Seek it ! be gone ! and break my rest no more," 
 She said ; and left him shiv'ring at the door. 
 
 Harshly repuls'd, sad Philo cast about. 
 But all in vain, to find his shelter out ; 
 For still, while all its rage the storm maintain'd. 
 In muffled majesty thick darkness reign'd. 
 Groping, at length, he stumbled on a shed. 
 Beneath whose roof were furze and faggots laid ; 
 'Mongst the vindictive inmates snug he crept. 
 And rung the rain that from his garments dripp'd. 
 In musing silence, there, he waiting, tarried. 
 And thought the man thrice blest in being married ; 
 For tho' shut out, he still the wife approv'd. 
 And envy'd him who was so much beloved. 
 Close to the cottage wall his dwelling join'd.
 
 14 
 
 With sloping thatch to check the winter's wind. 
 Against the wall he lean'd, in doleful plight. 
 When, near his head, a sparkling sudden light 
 Peep'd thro' a cranny, for convenience made, 
 When of no sly assessing imp afraid : 
 For, to deceive, and the hard tax elude. 
 The casement (such it was) was stopp'd with wood ; 
 Rut oft in part remov'd, as serv'd the time, 
 And to infringe the laws they thought no crime : 
 No crime to steal what higher laws had giv'n 
 Freely to all— -the glorious light of heav'n. 
 
 'Twas thus, when Philo, with astonished eyes. 
 Beheld what struck with wonder and surprise ! 
 As round the room he cast his earnest view. 
 He spy'd the lady — and another too ! 
 Ye gentle sex, who strew our path with flow'rs, 
 Thro' whom each charm that lights up life is ours. 
 Ah ! gentle fair I forgive the timorous muse. 
 Her tale is Truth's, and yet the task she rues : 
 Sadly, she dreads to tempt the fearful ban, 
 But out it must, that other was — a man ! 
 Round as the god of wine, with ruby face, 
 And little eyes, that with a twinkling grace, 
 Peep'd at the dame, as o'er the floor she tripp'd, 
 And to prepare the supper softly skipp'd ; 
 As with quick eye she por'd around the house. 
 And sought each chink impervious to a mouse ; 
 Repair'd each part thro' which the light might peer, 
 To tell observers what was doing there. 
 But female craft may be by chance deceiv'd ! 
 That all was safe, the busy fair believ'd. 
 The blabbing casement where the observer stood, 
 She mark'd not, trusting in its sconce of wood ; 
 Like polish'd jet appear'd the faithless glass. 
 And little dreamt she that the light could pass;
 
 15 
 
 For, in the restless hurry of her thought. 
 Incautious memory the thief forgot. 
 
 In buxom beauty, like a morn in May, 
 Plump as a Wheat-ear*, as a throstle gay. 
 The woman mov'd. Upon her rosy face 
 Health sat, and sparkled with a rustic grace : 
 Of middle size ; her flowing hair unbrac'd. 
 Spread in wild ringlets down her slender waist : 
 Little her feet ; her eyes of wanton blue ; 
 Her lips like rose buds, wet with morning dew : 
 Neat were the foldings of her simple vest. 
 And slight the kerchief on her swelling breast : 
 Blithe was her bonny brow — her teeth were white ; 
 Her smiles were winning, and her looks delight. 
 
 So fair was she, whom wond'ring Philo saw 
 Forth from a basket wine in bottles draw ; 
 Loaves of the lilly's hue, with Gloster cheese. 
 And a small bundle fiU'd with latter pease. 
 Two ducks were roasting by the ruddy flame : 
 Where sat — but hold, I will not tell his name : 
 Twirling and basting, he the dripping pour'd. 
 And oft, impatiently the embers stirr'd. 
 A milk white- cloth was o'er the table spread. 
 And knives and forks in dainty order laid ; 
 Were salt, with glee-diffusing pepper, stood. 
 And mustard, for a thousand uses good : 
 Rich wine, and glasses by its side were plac'd. 
 And plated spoons each corner deftly grac'd. 
 In the hot dish, at length the sauce was pour'd. 
 And ready supper smoked upon the board. 
 
 The fire blaz'd high, and crackling faggots pil'd. 
 Warmth, wine, and woman in the cottage smil'd ; 
 While Philo ey'd with wistful look the feast, 
 But would not spoil it for the sake of jest. 
 
 * A bird so called.
 
 I(> 
 
 One duck the gentle fair had nicely carv'd, 
 And with the choicest bit her friend had served, 
 Who took a cheering glass to clear his throat, 
 Then to his mouth the sav'ry morsel put, 
 When lo ! at hand arose a sudden yell ; 
 Down dropp'd the fork, and down the morsel fell : 
 His longing mouth to catch the bit was strain'd, "^ 
 
 And now wide open, fixed by fear, remain'd. 
 
 The fair sat silent, struck with strange affright, 
 Till well known accents call'd, " bring forth alight !" 
 Then, slmdd'ring, whispered, " Tis my husband come. 
 '• What shall I do ? how meet my bitter doom ? 
 " And you the friend of his unhappy wife, 
 " Will never — never part from hence with life ! " 
 At this the ruby on his cheek turn'd blue. 
 His fiery nose assum'd a purple hue ; 
 Wide was it stretch'd, and his unholy breast, 
 All the authority of fear confess'd. 
 
 His teeth in chatt'ring sounds would fain have met. 
 But vainly strove in grasping durance set. 
 With rueful gaze, upon the fair he turn'd. 
 But ah 1 no longer with soft wishes burn'd : 
 Away, to warmer climates, they had fled, 
 And left his lumpish zone as cold as lead. 
 Sometimes he thought to quit the luckless place 
 And fly at once from danger and disgrace ; 
 Quaking, each window round the cot he try'd. 
 But this resource his portly size deny'd ! 
 Oh! how he envy'd every starving sinner. 
 And curs'd th' effects of many a savoury dinner ; 
 Wish'd his round body was by famine worn. 
 And thump'd his breast in dismal woe forlorn, 
 
 His recollection lost its last weak hold 
 At the next call, which made the woman bold : 
 Up stairs she ran, and threw the casement wide.
 
 17 
 
 " Have patience love, I've just got up," she cry'cl ; 
 " Soon will I open to my dear the door ; 
 " How have you fared across the wintry moor ?" 
 Then made a noise, as striking of a light. 
 And hum'd a tune, as if in joyfvd phght. 
 Sweetly she sung — " What bhss to meet my dear, 
 " Who comes so soon his tender mate to cheer ! " 
 Seeking the while her sighing friend to hide. 
 At length the copper a retreat supply'd : 
 For ia those days, to glad his hours of rest. 
 Good home brew'd ale each toihng hind possess'd. 
 " If you can climb," she said, " to creep in here, 
 " Safe you may hide, in spite of danger near." 
 " Oh, let me see't !" the fear-froze man reply'd. 
 Then, hobbling, to the welcome vessel hied ; 
 She lifting at his heels, he bending crept. 
 And ti^ere, shut close, his quiv'ring vigils kept, 
 "triis done, she closeted the wine and bread, 
 And^ mutt'ring, on a shelf the supper laid ; 
 With green damp logs half quench'd the smiling fire. 
 Cast off her gown, and chang'd her trim attire : 
 Her flowing hair beneath a nightcap drew. 
 And a loose kerchief o'er her shoulders threw ; 
 Then op'd the door, and rubb'd her heavy eyes. 
 Crying — "O ! Colin ! whence this blest surprise ? 
 " How comes my dear so soon to charm my sight, 
 " I look'd not for him till to-morrow night ? " 
 Then matron kisses on his lips impress'd. 
 And in sweet seeming clasp' d him to her breast ; 
 Stroak'd his wet locks, as overjoy'd, and cry'd, 
 " How bless'd this hour ! " the simple hind reply'd, 
 "I hasted back, because to me most dear 
 " Is Cicely and her home, and homely cheer : 
 " But I am cold with wading thro' the mire ; 
 " My feet are weaiy, wet is my attire."
 
 18 
 
 This said, the smouklering flame she quickly blew, 
 Wliile he aside his dripping garments threw. 
 And put on others. Now the blaze arose, 
 Dry'd and rcfresh'd, the laughing faggot glows. 
 Well waim'd, our Colin soon the storm forgot, 
 And now on others bent his anxious thought ; 
 For tho' a simple, rough, uncourtly hind. 
 He had a heart benevolent and kind. 
 " Whose horse is he that hangs his drooping head, 
 " Beneath the ceaseless drippings of yon shed ? 
 " Sure he who left him there but ill deserves, 
 " Or, lost, perhaps, his wand'ring master starves." 
 Cicely replied, " my best and only dear, 
 " A way-worn stranger crav'd admittance here ; 
 " This I refus'd, an hour ago, and more, 
 " And, with harsh chiding drove him from the door, 
 " For when my Colin leaves his own lov'd home, 
 " Here, be assur'd, no nightly strangers come." 
 Colin commended, but his gen'rous mind 
 Still urg'd him forth, the way worn man to find ; 
 Short was his trouble — noting the intent. 
 Forth from his shed the joyful Philo went. 
 Led by the light, Col cast his eyes around. 
 And soon the object of his questions found : 
 Shiv'ring and sad, like cattle in the rain. 
 Whom he ask'd in, and clos'd the door again. 
 Then the proud charger to the stable led. 
 And there with choicest clover saw him fed ; 
 While much to know the stranger's name he burn'd. 
 And, hurrying, to his cottage soon retum'd. 
 
 Cicely the stranger's hat with bustling haste, 
 Snatch'd from his hand, and on the copper plac'd. 
 " A hem ! " she cried, and then the cover push'd. 
 And with a private sign her pris'ner hush'd : 
 Bent like a sickle, who half- stifled sate, 
 Choaking with smother'd sighs, and cursing fate.
 
 19 
 
 Philo his host for many a day had known ; 
 Who oft had told him where the game had flown : 
 Had seen' him oft with_merry labourers mix, 
 And for their pastime, play a thousand tricks. 
 With eyes upturn'd, had marvell'd at the feat. 
 When he with seeming gust the snufiers eat. 
 And, firmly, that he dealt in sprites believ'd. 
 Who had the^rustic throng so well deceiv'd ; 
 So when his head uncover'd met the view, 
 Astonish'd Col the smiling aspect knew. 
 
 Then he : " What ! Mister Philo !— no : yes, 'tis ; 
 " You're in sad plight, I fear : but how comes this ? 
 " Why did you choose from warmth and rest to stray, 
 " In such a night, on such a lonely way ? 
 " I'm griev'd my wife should send you ofi" before ; 
 " Had I been here, you'd found an open door." 
 Philo reply 'd : "I took it in good part — 
 " Your wife, no doubt, had cogent reasons for't : 
 " Upon this frightful waste, she did quite right 
 " To shut your door on any man at night." 
 
 On some unlucky words his accent lay, 
 And Cicely blush' d, and stammer'd, " Sir, I pray, 
 " Forgive, forgive me ! would your honor please, 
 " To have diy clothes ? — you must be ill at ease." 
 Philo this offer, made in humblest tone. 
 With thanks accepted. Now the flame begun. 
 With friendly powers to warm his shiv'ring frame. 
 When Colin thus address'd his musing dame. 
 
 " How stands the larder, girl ? Wliat hast thou got, 
 " If fare the coarsest, happy is my lot ; 
 " For since I've eat twelve weary hours have past, 
 " And our good master of thy cheer shall taste." 
 Whom answxr'd Cicely, with a tender leer, 
 " It makes me sad to tell my dearest dear, 
 "Those two days past the miller did not call,
 
 20 
 
 " Our bread's all finish 'd, save one poor half roll ; 
 " Cheese I have none, and as for better fare, 
 " I relish not, unless my Colin share." 
 " Sorry I am," the simple clown reply'd, 
 "To see you, sir, at this poor scanty tide, 
 " The shame be ours ;" but seeing Philo smile, 
 Rejoin'd, " Dear master now, if worth your while, 
 " Now is the time to use your conj'ring art ; 
 " You'll soon make victuals out of nothing start. 
 
 Somewhat by Colin urg'd, but more by fun. 
 With brows collected, Philo thus begun ; 
 " Should I comply, good CoHn can you eat 
 ' ' Th' enchanted viands of a wizard's treat ? 
 " Arts difficult and secret I must use 
 " To grant your wish — it rests with you to choose. 
 " Weigh well th' event." RepUed the hungiy clown, 
 " A slice of Nick himself would now go down." 
 " Oh ! do not — do not. Sir," implor'd his wife, 
 " You'U fright my sense away, perhaps my life ; 
 " For I (and pray'd) may not escape the charm. 
 Philo rejoin'd — " Be sure I'll do no haiTQ :" 
 And gave the pious fair a private wink. 
 As sad she totter'd on discov'ry's brink. 
 
 Tlien drawing forth his implements of trade. 
 Them in due order on the table laid : 
 A small black ruler, like a wizard's wand, 
 Fu-st he took up, and grasp'd within his hand ; 
 With scales and compasses a zone compos'd. 
 And pens in planetary form dispos'd : 
 Tooth-picks and tweezers plac'd in mystic hnes. 
 And in the midst a pale proctractor* shines : 
 When shriek'd the fair, " Heav'n shield us fi'om all evil, 
 " Look Cohn ! God befriend, there's D. for devil !" 
 
 * A semicircular instrument used by land-surveyors, &c. for the purpose of 
 easing down angles.
 
 ■21 
 
 " Indeed !" replied the clown, " I'm not afeard, 
 " If he come here, I singe his worship's beard !" 
 Then for a weapon up the candle took. 
 While Philo fi'om his pocket drew a book. 
 There por'd, and near the table took his stand, 
 Mutter'd strange words, and wav'd his ebon wand. 
 
 Now in the room ensued an awful pause. 
 Each held their peace, tho' from a diff'rent cause. 
 "They're here at length," he cry'd, " your hopes to crown." 
 " What ! what ! " with eager haste exclaim'd the clown, 
 "Peace su- ! let Cicely to that closet go, 
 " She'll find bread, cheese, green-pease, and roast ducks two, 
 " With ev'ry damty sauce, for table ready." 
 Slow to the closet mov'd the sullen lady ; 
 While Col, who marvelhng, o'er his shoulder look'd. 
 Cries " Bravo ! here they be ! and ready cook'd !" 
 Ling'ring, th' unwilling fair the table spread, 
 "Where Colin and his friend partook unbid ; 
 •"Madam to eat, they oft and strongly press'd 
 But, tho' she wish'd, she scorn' d th' enchanted feast ; 
 With mopish loathing in a comer sat. 
 And cast on Philo looks of fearful hate ; 
 Of sudden throbbing in her head complain'd. 
 And how her senses scarce the scene sustain'd. 
 
 Now all was hush'd. At length began the clown, 
 " How sweet some beer would send such victuals down !" 
 To whom the wizard : " This dehcious cheer 
 " Asks better beverage than vulgar beer ; 
 " 'Tis princes' fare, we'U hve hke princes too, 
 " Suppose some wine we call for } What say you ?" 
 Cohn agi-eed with joy : and now the rites. 
 Once more repeated, urg'd the bounteous sprites. 
 Mute and disconsolate, the rueful dame. 
 In deep confusion sat, and stung with shame ; 
 Yet, at his call, with dilatory grace,
 
 22 
 
 Fetch'd forth her bottles from the self-same place. 
 
 Round went the glass, till, more than half- seas o'er. 
 They both forgot the terrors of the moor. 
 Philo the cot with sundry tunes made ring. 
 And ev'n Col himself essay'd to sing : 
 While the sad fair, with groans bewept her head. 
 And oft was arming to retire to bed ; 
 But fears lest they her friend should rouse, restrain'd. 
 And sore against her wishes she remain'd. 
 
 Now soaring high on rapture's vine-clad wing, 
 " Zoimds," cried the clown, " this devil is a king 
 '* For merry cheer ! I wonder how he looks, 
 •' Sure in good case, he keeps such noble cooks ; 
 " Ah ! if our Cicely now the sight could bear, 
 •' Soon in his proper shape we'd have him here. 
 " Do, sir, once more, your book and gimcracks take, 
 " And raise his worship for diversion's sake." 
 " Since," said the wizard, " 'tis my fiiend's desire, 
 " It shall be done, and Cicely may retire." 
 But she, as senseless, feign'd a sudden fit. 
 And wisely strove in silence to submit, 
 Unmark'd by Col, whose mind was all inflam'd 
 To see this fearful Tyke, the devil nam'd. 
 
 Thrice three times round the wizard wav'd his wand, 
 And circhng on the floor he scatter'd sand ; 
 Within whose bounds then divers figures drew. 
 Strange Hebrew scraps ; some signs, and planets too : 
 The Ram and BuU beside each other lay. 
 And Leo, subject to the god of day ; 
 Mars, and the nimble messenger of Jove, 
 And friendly Venus, guardian star of love : 
 Then bade the wondering clown a faggot take 
 And fire beneath the sinful copper make. 
 " Mark me," said he, " from thence he will descend, 
 '• And towards the door with flying footsteps bend :
 
 23 
 
 " Let that be open, lest (this mystic charm 
 
 "Too weak to save) we catch disastrous harm." 
 
 Arm'd with the poker, CoUn took his stand, 
 
 And rous'd the heat with many a sparkling brand ; 
 
 As if resolv'd, altho' his skin was tough. 
 
 His fire-proof worship should have flame enough. 
 
 The curling blaze around the copper ran, 
 And with strange warmth assail' d the portly man ; 
 Who in close order on his haunches cower'd. 
 While floods of vapour down his visage pour'd. 
 In silent dole he hitching chang'd his seat. 
 To ease those members most perplex'd with heat ; 
 But 'twas in vain, each dumb remove he try'd. 
 His hissing body hke a martyr's fry'd ; 
 Chief the fell foe so sing'd his hinder part 
 As made him groan, and give a sudden start : 
 At this, all terrified, around the room 
 Cicely ran wild and wept his doleful doom : 
 Fain she'd have fled, but Colin ran to stop her. 
 Crying, "that's prime ! I hear him in the copper." 
 And as sore pinch'd by fire the man kept prancing, 
 " Hark, what a merry dog, I hear him dancing." 
 
 As on the country hearth dry haulm of peas 
 Blaze warm and clear, while round the fire at ease. 
 Their labours o'er, a knot of rustics sit. 
 And charm the wintry night with boist'rous wit. 
 Or talk of white-rob'd ghosts and gobUns dire, 
 'Till circling close, their knees approach the fire ; 
 When, midst a tale of horror, something starts 
 Boimce from the flame, and thro* the circle darts. 
 Up rise the gaping oafs in wild afiright. 
 And cry "the devil !" till one brings forth a light : 
 Wishing, tho' afraid, his tempter's face to see. 
 And finds the object of their dread — a Pea ! 
 So Colin gaz'd upon the devil's retreat,
 
 24 
 
 Anxious to see, tho' quick his pulses beat ; 
 
 Lo ! out he stai'ts — Col, fix'd in wild surprise, 
 
 With lifted poker, and with staring eyes ; 
 
 While Cicely, panic struck, by fear, amaze. 
 
 Upon the wizard bent her grievous gaze ; 
 
 While scamp'ring with quick step across the floor, 
 
 Old Nick, half roasted, strove to gain the door. 
 
 Shout, " That the devil ! his nose ! his nose ! look Cis, 
 
 '• Is like our P n's as that hand to this ! 
 
 " His very clothing too, I'll never see 
 
 " Our P n more, but I shall think of he !" 
 
 " 'Tis as I wish'd," the smiling wizard said. 
 Now rose the mom in russet vest array 'd. 
 Col went to fetch the charger to the door. 
 While Cicely whisper'd soft, " I thank you, sir ; 
 "Be on your honor now, and save my fame, 
 "You know how much depends on a good name." 
 " I will," said Philo ? " but this warning take, 
 " Be chaste, be virtuous for your husband's sake : 
 " Simple indeed's his mind, but, just and true, 
 " His heart is yours, he only hves for you : 
 " For dark suspicion gave him then no cause. 
 " Nor dare infringe the best of human laws : 
 " Favour'd bv chance, be thankful, and attend 
 " This honest counsel of your real friend, 
 " Lest Cohn of some future error know, 
 " And cast you off to infamy and woe. 
 " And tell your fi-iend (I've seen his rosy face, 
 "Oft in a diff'rent and more seemly place,) 
 " Safe in my breast his secret shall remain, 
 " Nor wiU I utter what may cause him pain ; 
 " But if he must take " Pleasure's guily way," 
 " Unheeding Heaven's broad eye, revolting stray, 
 " Let him, at least, keep close from mortal view, 
 " Lest his next spy should give the devil his due."
 
 THE 
 
 TYROLESE VII-LAGERS : 
 
 OR, 
 
 A PROSPECT OF WAR. 
 
 »cio« 
 
 "^TITHILE you, dear Verral, thro' your toilsome day 
 /#■ The useful powers of sacred art display ; 
 
 Intent from man to turn the darts of Death, 
 Dash the rough beach, or scour the sultry heath : 
 Happy, where some poor hind, by toil subdued. 
 Droops with disease, or faints, for lack of food ; 
 Wakeful, and chill'd by night's unfriendly dew. 
 You seek his shed, and bless his clouded view — 
 While hope yet dimly round Life's taper plays. 
 With healing hand the needy sufferer raise : 
 Or, haply, where, by some foul sprite possess'd, 
 A daring fever steals the great man's rest, 
 While you, as sore he dreads the fatal urn. 
 Bid health, array'd in all her charms, return : 
 Or where, a sick'ning stranger to repose. 
 Some tender fair one weeps her early woes ; 
 Too young to die, forlorn of hope to live, 
 While you the languid mourner's pains relieve ; 
 Upon her cheek bid fresher graces shine, 
 And lovelier roses the pale lily join ;
 
 26 
 
 I, far from all the toiling throng rctir'd. 
 Each hope that smil'd in busier days expir'd. 
 Sit still, and tag fuU many a sleepy rhyme, 
 To fill my dull vacuity of time : — 
 Sit still, forgotten both by friend and foe. 
 Unless our Damon writes his tale of woe. 
 Crush'd by misfortune, whom a tyrant's powV 
 Has curs'd with want, and many an idle hour : 
 Forc'd him to lay each useful aim aside. 
 And giv'n the reins to Poetry and Pride : 
 For pride, as pedants gravely deign to tell. 
 The poet prompts, and makes his muse excel ; 
 To fame and glory bids him strive to rise, 
 Until his ivy'd bows assail the skies* ; 
 While, like a pauper. Business crawls along, 
 Distanc'd, and aw'd by more illustrious song. 
 
 Angry, I Damon's hapless fate bemoan. 
 For candour pmiish'd, and by truth undone ! 
 Ye powers ! why not upon his shoulders place, 
 A head, whose dull nonentity of face. 
 Whose solemn nods, and speech of grace, and Paul, 
 Display the godly workings of the soul ; 
 As letter'd butts, outside the shop of gin. 
 Announce the spirit that is sold within ? 
 Then, with the hallow'd of this mighty land. 
 In solemn pomp all brazen might he stand ; 
 Simp'ring tho' dull — tho' muddy, seeming clear. 
 For candour fam'd, tho' sadly insincere ; 
 Anxious his love of virtue to display, 
 Where riches tempt, and int'rest points the way. 
 Then might he play with chiefs his righteous part. 
 Like * * *, a Christian, all but — at the heart. 
 
 • Sublimi feriura siilera vfrticc— HoR.
 
 27 
 
 A wily serpent, crawling round the great. 
 Then might he revel in the smiles of fate ; 
 Might with a shrug, imploring fools betray. 
 And hesitate their characters away. 
 
 Ah ! hapless followers in the Muses' train ; 
 Who know not men with looks devout to gain ; 
 Whose eyes, ere young idea leave the heart. 
 The embryo purpose of the wiU impart ; 
 Tell, what the sudden flash of Truth inspires. 
 Their hopes, their aims, their actions, their desires ; 
 Till of their dearest secrets self-bereav'd, 
 Tho' none deceiving, are by most deceiv'd ! 
 
 Fools ! who their prospects to a friend confide ; 
 If bright, he envies — for a friend has pride. 
 If dim, and blotted by a train of woes, 
 " He's very sorry," and the friend — they lose. 
 
 This truth, dear Verral ! Damon Uves to prove ; 
 For many a friend once blest him with their love — 
 For many a friend, with you, once shar'd his heart. 
 Till proud Oppression struck him with its dart : 
 Till, after struggling long, he fell its prey. 
 When one by one, they slily shrunk away : 
 Shrunk, both to honor and to truth untrue. 
 And left him none but * * * me and you. 
 But o'er their ruin, mock'd by soothing sleep. 
 And craz'd with care, let individuals weep : 
 Far other themes require the tuneful page. 
 Of sterner note — that ev'r}' tongue engage. 
 
 Thou ever-living spark of mental fire. 
 With partial beam, again my thoughts inspire ; 
 Again with him, who taught thee first to glow. 
 And bade my verse in prouder numbers flow. 
 Hold lov'd discourse, this blank of hfe to charm. 
 And give to solitude a brighter form.
 
 28 
 
 \Vliat tho' no more the scenes that gild the plain. 
 Where Ouse meand'ring glides to meet the main : 
 No placid downs, nor dingles flush of May, 
 Nor whisthng shepherd ask the sprightly lay ; 
 Tho' now no more, with pleasing langour fraught, 
 Firle's balmy breezes woo poetic thought ; 
 But sad and low, in hollow murmurs spread, 
 Seem wth their sighs, to mourn the noble dead. 
 Wliat, tho' no more the rural tribes among 
 We stray, and meditate the rustic song ; 
 While daily teems the press with deeds of blood — 
 Of murder'd man, that choaks the Danube's flood ; 
 While under warring navies groans the main, 
 " And gleaming arms ring dreadful on the plain ;" 
 While pale Europa moans her fields o'erspread 
 With smoking ruins, and with heaps of dead ; 
 From where the Garrone loves its fi'uitful shores 
 To Boreal climes, where frozen Wolga roars. 
 Obsequious vassals of a tyrant's hand. 
 While sink supine the chiefs of every land ; 
 Or, if opposing, certain ruin meet. 
 Despair and die, or kiss their conqueror's feet ; 
 Can we want themes to rouse the vocal lyre. 
 And swell the sounding strings with tenfold fire ? 
 
 Ev'n here, where liberty her altar rais'd. 
 And up to Heav'n the freewill offering blaz'd, 
 Vice reigns supreme, and Folly flares on high. 
 Her gaudy pennons flutt'ring to the sky. 
 Where once each rank, from Britain's ev'ry part, 
 Form'd one bright phalanx, hberty its heart : 
 Around their monarch made a glorious stand, 
 Repell'd the foe, and check'd the tyrant's hand. 
 Abuses crawl along, a wily train. 
 To stop whose course the patriot toils in vain ;
 
 29 
 
 Wliile press'd by circumstance the high and great, 
 Unknowing how to stem the tide of fate. 
 Turn from a burthen'd people's angry pray'r 
 With wav'ring heart, and give them — to despair. 
 
 Could* he, the sweetest of the tuneful throng 
 That ever roam'd Aonian groves among ; 
 Could he. Oh, friend, but hear the plaintive tale 
 The town that thrills, and murmurs thro' the vale. 
 How would he cry — " Oh ! Albion, lovliest maid ! 
 " Thy bloomy flush of life indeed is fled !" 
 How would he m.ourn the ills her sons endure. 
 And own that griefs exist which " kings might cure ;" 
 Own when oppression swells the heart-felt groan, 
 A people's last appeal is to the throne. 
 
 Yet tliink not I, when comes the hour of need. 
 When England's wrongs might ask the daring deed. 
 Think i)ot I ween her humbler bands would run, 
 Scom'd as they are, the foe to aid or shun. 
 If sucTi they were, the muse should bid them know, 
 A change of masters is but change of woe : 
 If such there be, tli' historic facts she tells. 
 While pity weeps, and rage indignant swells. 
 As soft the solemn numbers melt his ear, 
 WeU shall he learn his lesser iUs to bear ; 
 Learn, with her while his thoughts progressive roam. 
 To bless kind Heav'n, that England is his home. 
 
 And to the scatter'd few of wealth and pow'r. 
 Who, loathing folly, prize the classic hour ; 
 Whose gen'rous hands, all selfish views apart. 
 Expand with joy the meanest suppliant's heart ; 
 To you and all whom genuine worth attends. 
 Friend, to the world, but more, your country's friends, 
 
 * Goldsmith.
 
 30 
 
 Dreading no censure, I submit the tale, 
 Tlio' told of those who die'd in life's low vale. 
 
 Where the rough Tyrol spreads its viny plain. 
 And freedom, ling'ring, long retained her reign, 
 A village stood, enclosed by forests round. 
 And hills with pine and stately cedar crown'd : 
 Tliere, fair as roses that adorn'd her bowers. 
 And sweet as hawthorns wet with ev'ning show'rs ; 
 And pure as Boreal Heav'n, by frosts refined. 
 Her form, an emblem of her spotless mind, 
 Hope of her sire, and solace of his age. 
 As slow he totter'd down life's closing stage. 
 Liv'd Agnes, loveliest maid, that grac'd the scene. 
 When the full vintage charm'd the busy green, 
 
 For her rich youths with fond contention strove, 
 And told their wishes warm with spotless love. 
 Yet long with Agnes they no pity found. 
 Who free as air the woodlands tripp'd around. 
 Till Allan came — a lad who knew no art. 
 His only wealth a tender honest heart, 
 Sigh'd at her feet, and with persuasive voice. 
 By love made eloquent, obtained his choice. 
 
 Whate'er a life like their's could want or crave, 
 To them her father gladly, freely, gave ; 
 Whate'er had lent his frugal hours a charm. 
 His rural home, his cultivated farm. 
 His pregnant vines, his press yet undecayed. 
 And each utensil meet for rustic trade. 
 Then, fondly laying all hfe's cares aside, 
 Repos'd with Allan and his gentle bride ; 
 Liv'd his few years, rejoicing at her doom. 
 Then found a better Sabbath in the tomb.
 
 31 
 
 With two sweet boys now Allan's cot was crown'd. 
 Peace liv'd within, and plenty shone around ; 
 Soft as the breeze of May their days fled by. 
 For genuine love unclouded all their sky ; 
 Labour their wealth — their wishes never stray'd 
 Beyond the httle heav'n their virtues made. 
 
 At length, resounding from Itahan shores. 
 The furies storm, and harsh the battle roars : 
 Gaul's vet'ran bands, inur'd to deeds of blood. 
 Cross the rough Rhine, and brave the Mantuan flood. 
 From pass to pass the savage spoilers rove, 
 And reach at last these seats of humble love. 
 Declin'd from Cancer far, the glorious Sun, 
 StiU verging south, had thro' the Lion iiin ; 
 And now bright Virgo swel'tring with his ray, 
 Wif^e o'er the bending corn spi'ead bounteous day ; 
 The hving vines with pui-ple nectar flow'd. 
 And ripen'd Summer o'er the landscape glow'd. 
 Long had the rustic, lab'ring, scorn'd repose. 
 And saw his reaping toils approach their close ; 
 Fit for the barn, at last his harvest lay. 
 And his stript vines no more reflected day ; 
 Joy sweU'd his breast, till one foreboding morn 
 Rose like a tyrant of his wishes shorn. 
 Who, baffled by some patriotic band. 
 In distant anger threats their native land : 
 Clouds roll'd on clouds, the face of day deform, 
 Big with the terrors of impending storm. 
 When Allan rush'd his winter's hope to save 
 From the fierce blast, or all involving wave. 
 And hop'd, e'er day with drew, by toils severe. 
 To shelter safe the produce of the year. 
 
 Night came at length, and o'er the eastern sky 
 Darkness ascending, wav'd her flag on high :
 
 32 
 
 Aw'd by the pow'r, Heav'n's waning glories fled, 
 As slow thro' air the sable shadow spread. 
 The hum of life was ceas'd ; and all around, 
 Silence still list'ning ruled the vast profound, 
 Save where the spirit of the moaning gale 
 In hollow whispers sigh'd along the vale ; 
 He swept with sullen wings th' immense of gloom, 
 Herald of woes, despair, and death to come. 
 Such fearful warnings from the loathsome grave, 
 'Tis said of old, departed spirits gave. 
 
 'Twas past the hour when, lacking sweet repose, 
 The weary labourer to his cottage goes ; 
 There Agnes mourn'd her Allan's lengthen'd stay, 
 "Whilst sad and low, her minutes pac'd away. 
 His simple supper long had been prepared. 
 Which, as abroad each fancied noise was heard. 
 Neat on their social board she oft had spread, 
 And oft remov'd, till past the hour of bed ; 
 "When deep-ton'd midnight, bidding all to rest, 
 "With heavier sorrow fill'd her throbbing breast. 
 Fearful, and sad, her slumb'ring boys she sought. 
 To ease the anguish of oppressive thought : 
 Knelt o'er her babe, that in its cradle slept. 
 And wept and kiss'd it, and still kiss'd and wept ; 
 Her eldest born, intent on ev'ry sound 
 Of fancied footsteps trampling o'er the ground, 
 Fix'd in mute grief beheld her flowing tears. 
 And join'd in watching as he join'd in fears ; 
 And, while he strove some comfort to supply, 
 View'd his fond mother with a wat'ry eye. 
 
 Allan at length returns — around him cling 
 His two sweet blossoms of love's happier spring ; 
 Upon his neck the joyful Agnes falls. 
 But, his dejected look her heart appals.
 
 33 
 
 "Allan," she cvy'd, " and art thou then return'd, 
 
 " Thou, my dear AUan, whom so long I've moum'd, 
 
 " Art thou return'd ? but why so late away ; 
 
 " Could business keep ? oh, what prolong'd thy stay ?" 
 
 To whom ; his aspect wan with sickly fear. 
 
 And quiv'ring lip, " Oh stay no longer here, 
 
 " Returning home, my day's hard labour past, 
 
 " Our winter's store all shelter'd from the blast, 
 
 " Gladly did I the night approaching see, 
 
 " Because the night still brings me home to thee ; 
 
 " With flying steps I pass'd the lonely glade 
 
 " Where the brown forest skirts the woodland's shade ; 
 
 " 'Twas there, approaching drums, my ears assail'd, 
 
 " And dread for thee o'er ev'ry sense prevail'd ; 
 
 " Despair and horror froze my powerless frame, 
 
 " Far did I stray, nor know the way I came," 
 
 Ki this he stopp'd, — for icy horrors ran 
 
 Tliro' hfe's warm tide, and petrified the man. 
 
 Forc'd from his eyes, at length the streaming tear, 
 
 Restor'd, and made him feel his fate severe. 
 
 " Oh ! Agnes, Agnes ! those infernal bands, 
 
 " Who spread with terror Italy's fair lands, 
 
 " Ev'n now draw near, my wand'ring steps they trace, 
 
 " Then fly, oh, let us seek a safer place !" 
 
 He ceas'd. Transfix'd by all the darts of woe. 
 
 The wife, the mother wist not what to do ; 
 
 Contending sorrows choak'd her lab'ring breath. 
 
 And her heart sunk, as on the verge of death. 
 
 Unhappy pair ! the instant marks your doom, 
 Victims, unpitied, of the yawning tomb. 
 Shrill thro' the shade the brazen trumpet roars. 
 And thro' the ruffian host new fury pours : 
 Scar'd by the sound, the frenzied peasants run 
 This way, and that, in vain, their fate to shun,
 
 34 
 
 Near, and more near, in terrible array. 
 
 The dreadful ranks inclose their frighted prey ; 
 
 With dismal gleams the clashing bay'nets glare. 
 
 While ruin, hov'ring in the troubled air. 
 
 At war's infernal blast at once descends. 
 
 And widely round the work of death extends. 
 
 Allan beholds insatiate robbers spoil 
 The hard-earn'd blessings of his useful toil — 
 His home, his all, the prey of angry fires. 
 And the last beam of sickly hope expires ! 
 With lifted hands, o'ei^whelra'd by dumb despair. 
 Feebly he strove to breathe a fruitless prayer, 
 Alas, how vain ! the fatal bullet fled 
 Swift as ethereal fire, and pierc'd his head : 
 On the cold earth, at Agnes' feet he hes. 
 Just murmurs " save my children !" faints, and dies. 
 
 Here palsied age, amid the bloody strife. 
 With falt'ring accents pleads in vain for life. 
 The lover there beholds his destin'd bride. 
 Fainting with fear, dishonour'd by his side. 
 Ah, gentle maid ! perhaps thy spotless charms 
 To-morrow's sun had giv'n a husband's arms : 
 Perhaps, in fancy, swam before thy sight 
 The marriage garland, and the robe of white : 
 The holy priest, imploring from above 
 Eternal blessings on thy virtuous love : 
 Haply the youth, from all but thee withdrawn. 
 Exulting hop'd the pleasure of the dawn. 
 With chaste endearment, clasp'd thee to his heart. 
 Nor thought the hour was near your loves to part. 
 It comes ! in ruin, shame and death ye wed ; 
 Your bliss the sword — the dust your bridal bed. 
 
 Struck with these sights of horror, Agnes pi'ess'd 
 Her screaming orphans to her widow'd breast.
 
 35 
 
 To Heav'n for mercy tuvn'd her frenzied eye, 
 To Heav'n for mercy turn'd — but none was nigh. 
 Yet from her babes she kept the fatal blow. 
 And, humbly kneeling, thus address'd the foe : — 
 " If yet one manly thought your bosoms move, 
 " Oh, spare these pledges dear, of wedded love ! 
 " Spare this poor infant, to my breast that clings, 
 " And your's be all the bliss, that mercy brings. 
 " Steep'd in his precious blood its father lies 
 '• One victim of your rage — let one suffice ! 
 " Take not another !" But her prayer was vain ; 
 It bleeds ! — and dying falls among the slain. 
 Close by its sire the little sufF'rer lay. 
 And feebly gasp'd its spotless life away. 
 
 I pause for, oh ! what mortal pen can tell 
 
 The rage of furies, and the deeds of hell ! 
 
 Rise from your dens, black ministers of fate ; 
 
 Ye howling fiends the dreadful rest relate : 
 
 Tell, for yc only can, how raving round. 
 
 She snatch'd her babe, yet bleeding, from the ground ! 
 
 Tell, how in agony of soul she turn'd 
 
 To where her darling cottage fiercely burn'd — 
 
 Clasp' d to her heart the hving and the dead, 
 
 And cry'd to all the powers of Heaven for aid ! 
 
 Tell hov/, as still the brutal monsters strove 
 
 To bend her frame to quench their horrid love. 
 
 She fled their grasp, and in the welcome fires 
 
 Plung'd headlong, with her shrieking babes expires. 
 
 As hungry wolves, when Alpine winters reign. 
 Rush from the rocks, and scour the frozen plain ; 
 By famine stung, their savage eye-balls glare. 
 As with their prey they wage unequal war ; 
 Fast'ning on man, they gorge their shrieking food. 
 With groans the vale resounds, and teems with blood.
 
 36 
 
 So war's staunch hounds, by human furies led, 
 Here as they rag'd, fell desolation spread : 
 Nor sex, nor age, nor innocence could save 
 The sinking sufferers from a timeless grave ; 
 And all devour'd by one wide waste of flame, 
 The lovely village but remains a name. 
 
 Stung by the thirst for power, debas'd with crimes, 
 Ah, little feel the tyrants of the times, 
 Thus on your lives, ye humble poor who tread, 
 The woes, the deaths, their fiery legions spread ; 
 And brief's the pity your destruction brings 
 Where safety hovers round on guardian wings ; 
 Where peace securely spreads her silken toils 
 To fold the heart, and clothe the cheek with smiles, 
 Man rests, unheedful of the distant groan, 
 And, ah ! ye die unpitied and unknown. 
 
 Yet, o'er the horrors of your fearful tale 
 Time shall not stretch his everlasting veil : 
 It's date, the weeping muse shall long secure. 
 To swell the annals of the injur'dpoor. 
 And when the few who love the mournful lyre. 
 With minds congenial bless their evening fire ; 
 While all around some story shall relate, 
 How sufi"ring mortals feel the frowns of fate ; 
 Haply how some lone virgin, by the wave 
 Laments her lover in his wat'ry grave. 
 Till reason, lost in anguish, wanders wild. 
 And flies for ever sorrow's hapless child ; 
 While yet for her the pearly drop shall start. 
 And gen'rous pity warm the feeling heart. 
 Some tongue your woes, poor Tyrolese, shall tell. 
 How ye liv'd happy — how distress'd ye fell : 
 So shall your virtues and their fate severe. 
 Awake the soul to shed a tend'rcr tear.
 
 37 
 
 From scenes like these, where mad ambition burns. 
 Well pleas'd, my sick'ning soul to England turns, 
 Who, if her vital plagues aside were hurl'd. 
 Might rise in glory, and defy the world. 
 Hail, native land ! where peace yet calmly sheds 
 Her olive garlands on our grateful heads ! 
 Where is the man, who owns thee for a home, 
 However poor, and murm'ring at his doom. 
 Where is the man such dreadful truths can hear. 
 And will not own his suff' rings less severe ? 
 Where is the man who would not firmly stand, 
 Dispiiting inch by inch his native land ? 
 If he but feel fair Freedom's genuine fire. 
 Where is the man would not for her expire ? 
 
 O liberty ! when in the human soul 
 Thou rrjgn'st, her powers submit to thy controul, 
 Aw'd by thy frown, all sordid passions flee, 
 And man exults in native majesty. 
 Whether beneath the tropic's fervid rage. 
 Or where bleak storms eternal warfare wage. 
 He drag his load of hfe, to fame unknown, 
 " Pierc'd by the fiei'ce extremes of either zone ;" * 
 Whether in cities pent, his course he run. 
 And barter mind, for gold, from sun to sun ; 
 Or tread his rustic round, condemn'd to toil. 
 Slave of the proud, and groveller of the soil ; 
 When sacred hberty inspires the clod. 
 He starts a hero, and he feels a god. 
 
 As when alive to pubhc good, some sage. 
 While thunders roar, and summer tempests rage. 
 Plants, fearless of the lightning's awful glare. 
 Magnetic rods amidst the flaming war ; 
 
 * Falconer.
 
 38 
 
 And while fierce flashes of electric fire 
 
 Blaze round the steel, and hiss along the wire, 
 
 Th' ethereal sparks obey th' attractive pow'r, 
 
 The danger ceases, and the storm is o'er. 
 
 So Liberty, when fierce vindictive foes 
 
 Invade her haunts, and threat unnumber'd woes ; 
 
 Wliile daring factions every heart confound, 
 
 And sly Sedition scatters darts around. 
 
 By wisdom fix'd, with strong attractive force 
 
 She binds the wav'ring, points the heroes' course ; 
 
 Tells to the chiefs her sure repelling plan. 
 
 Which hill resounds to hill, and man to man ; 
 
 WhUe ev'ry tongue, fir'd by her matchless charms, 
 
 Shouts " Death or Liberty ! — to arms, to arms !" 
 
 But where, ah ! where, resides the heav'nly maid. 
 Since ev'n her once-lov'd friends her haunts invade ? 
 Does she, among the vine-clad hills of France, 
 With meny peasants join the nightly dance. 
 Amongst perennial myrtles thrown along. 
 Touch the soft pipe, or wake the rural song ? 
 
 Ah, no ! tho' once, while yet her form was new. 
 When she Oppression's haughty tow'rs o'erthrew. 
 That ardent people all her pow'r confess'd. 
 And pleas'd, she nestled on their grateful breast. 
 Fresh scenes arose, they left her slighted charms 
 To writhe and tremble in a Gorgon's arms. 
 
 Now may the humble rustic deeply mourn 
 Tlie halcyon hours that never must return ; 
 Those hours, when with his family around, 
 They beat quick measures to the tabor's sound ; 
 Toil'd thro' the day, in social quiet bless'd. 
 And gave the night to pleasure, or to rest. 
 Well may he mourn the woeful change of scene. 
 Now curst conscription roams the blasted green ;
 
 39 
 
 Now from his arms, as ripe in years they grow. 
 To foreign cHmes his hapless offspring go, 
 Where their imperial scourge, with ruthless hand 
 Drags forth his vassals from their native land ; 
 Madd'ning for conquest, adds them to his train, 
 Who fiU with deeds of death the captiv'd plain : 
 On sad Iberia's or on Austria's shore 
 Bid the black tempest of the battle roar ; 
 While their old sires decay with silent grief. 
 Nor dare complain, nor dare to ask rehef. 
 
 Drooping, and sad, of all their glories shorn,' 
 With traihng wings the Austrian eagles mourn ; 
 While the rough Tyrolese, who dar'd oppose 
 With hardy aim his fierce disciplin'd foes, 
 Dar'd stand for hberty against the clan 
 Who still usurp the rights of free-born man ; 
 Laments his hills, of conquering hosts the prey. 
 Gone is his freedom — gone his every stay. 
 Ah, hapless Charles ! — the friend of human kind, 
 Tho' bred in courts, who bore a patriot mind. 
 Freedom, tho' fled thy land, bewails thy fate. 
 Great amongst princes — good among the great. 
 
 See his uncouth barbarians leacUng forth 
 The doughty hero of the famish'd north, 
 Hungry and fierce o'er Swedish hills who pour. 
 And snuff the luxuries of a milder shore. 
 They with a chief whom nobler aims inspir'd. 
 Might turn the balance as the world requir'd ; 
 But while by pride and fawning folly led. 
 What wonder, freedom from their hordes has fled. 
 
 Where yet one dying beam of hope prevails 
 In pausing glimpses on Iberian vales. 
 Weary the continental waste to roam, 
 Say will she settle there her final home ?
 
 40 
 
 Should tlic fell hydra, who on all distils 
 Its noxious banc, and every virtue kills, 
 "With vitals crush'd, to sober reason yield. 
 Should fools the helm, and bigots quit the field. 
 Then miffht th' immortal maid consent to stav. 
 And bless Iberia with perennial sway ; 
 With floods of wine, and life-sustaining corn, 
 Tla' unbounded stores of plenty's ample horn ; 
 Tlien industry would crown the fruitful year. 
 And her sweet vales exulting hope would cheer ; 
 Temperance, with little pleas'd, and hardy toil. 
 Disease would drive, and sloth to quit the soil : 
 No furies then would blight the flow'ry dell. 
 Reviving scenes like that where Agnes fell, 
 But his light task the cheerful hind would ply, 
 No woes to sting him, and no danger nigh ; 
 No dread of ruin from tyrannic laws, 
 No fiends to blast his labour's nightly pause : 
 How would his Agnes, by few cares opprest, 
 Make smile his ev'ning fire, and charm his rest ! 
 Oh, what extatic joy their hearts would cheer. 
 To know the blessings safe they prize so dear. 
 
 But, blind to all that sacred truth inspires, 
 The slaves of stubborn pride and low desires. 
 Her rulers still pursue the empty plan. 
 To flatter kings, and sep'rate man from man ; 
 The plan of government, whose galling chain 
 Links the low hind to penury and pain. 
 Condemns his hands to hard perpetual toil, 
 And poisons half the produce of the soil ; 
 Or, if not toil, among his with' ring vines 
 In torpid sloth he grovels and repines. 
 While the proud don, exalted to a god, 
 Scarce deigns to trample on the low-born clod.
 
 41 
 
 So he, whose pow'r ought ev'ry rank unite 
 To check his progress in the desp'rate flight, 
 Sees thro' their folly half his business done, 
 And, ere the battle join, his victory won ; 
 Exulting hears the people's deep-drawn sigh. 
 Then grants the boon their sordid chiefs deny. 
 
 When men like him, led on by wayward fate, 
 Threat final ruin to a tottering state ; 
 If all its sons form not one perfect whole. 
 Firm faith their body, confidence their soul — 
 If, every right and every claim refus'd. 
 The people cannot feel more hardly us'd, 
 Urg'd by despair, and notliing left to lose. 
 What wonder if they yield or join the foes ? 
 What wonder, if, by fraudful gifts allm-'d, 
 "JJiose they desert from whom they much endm-'d ? 
 And the hir'd squadrons of a state soon fly. 
 It falls, and Freedom seeks a kinder sky. 
 
 Should once (long, gentle Heav'n, avert the hour) 
 Invading armies tread our natal shore, 
 'Tis that great mass of men the rich deride 
 Would prop their castles, and defend their pride. 
 Would form the sevenfold shield their all to save. 
 Or with their leaders find a common grave ! 
 
 Hear then, ye proud, so sacred reason cries, 
 Be eacrgetic, manly, just and wise ! — 
 Hear then, ye proud ! respect a people's woe. 
 Bid them rejoice ! they'll suff"er with you too. 
 Nor in the glare of Fashion's giddy day, 
 Pleas'd with low trifles, flutter life away : 
 With Jehu's whip, the match, the monstrous powers 
 Tliat nerve great Barclay thro' his thousand hours : 
 Notorious Barclay, man of matchless force, 
 Who quits the warrior's for Newmarket's course,
 
 42 
 
 Stalks to cuid fro, sans nightcap and repose. 
 
 While gaping Folly cheers him as he goes ; 
 
 While, as his glorious ankles war with time, 
 
 Jockies and lordlings shout " Bang up — that's prime !" 
 
 Such sports Pho ! Cynic, why the soldier blame ? 
 
 *Tis man's first passion to acquire a name, 
 And just in all : if then new plans he tries. 
 Like Sampson, conscious where his vigor lies. 
 Why to the justice of his efibrts blind ? 
 " To rise a hero asks some strength of mind !" 
 
 These idle sports, that fill time's precious whole. 
 The' harmless deem'd, yet enervate the soul ; 
 Make her unfit to stem the tide of war 
 'Gainst those who firmly stand, and greatly dare. 
 Then, while the main repels the adverse hosts. 
 While yet aloof the vaunting warrior boasts. 
 Be wise ye great ! and oh, yourselves secure. 
 By keeping firm the friendship of the poor ; 
 That, hnk'd as one in bonds of lasting faith. 
 They may your triumph share, or share your death. 
 
 Oh, England, England ! may th* immortal power. 
 Still strong to save in sorrow's deadliest hour. 
 While desolation roams each foreign chme, 
 And ruthless havoc blots the page of time. 
 Avert the ills that other lands endure. 
 And all thy sons and all their rights secure. 
 Dear to my soul ! upon thy honor'd shore 
 May Discord sleep, and Faction cease to roar, 
 May'st thou her chains from strugghng Europe rend. 
 And be her guard, her bulwark, and her friend. 
 
 With Hope's keen eye I see the prayer arise. 
 Swift to her aid the guardian seraph flies. 
 Wisdom, descending from the realms of day. 
 Exalts her voice, and kings and chiefs obpv.
 
 43 
 
 Stands by the throne, in dazzhng glory bright, 
 And fools and factions shun her piercing light ; 
 "While Freedom, firing at the extatic view. 
 Triumphant smiles, and nerves each heart anew i 
 The ardent people, rallying round their king, 
 With cheerful hands their wilhng tribute bring ; 
 Pleas'd, ev'n the peasant clubs his httle store, 
 He can confidg, and feels no longer poor. 
 Lock'd m the bonds of union, lo, they stand 
 And mock the efforts of the tyrant's hand ; 
 High as he soars in Intellect and arms. 
 With calm derision shght his vain alarms ; 
 Bid the career of his ambition cease. 
 And calm a troubled world with lasting peace.
 
 THE 
 
 GARDENER'S TALE. 
 
 'Tis Providence, whose ever waking eye 
 Looks down with pity, on the feeble toil 
 Of mortals lost to hope, and leads them safe 
 Through all this dreary labyrinth of fate. 
 
 Thompson, 
 
 I well remember an old Gardener ; 
 Whom, when I was a httle trotting elf, 
 Tho' my light footing scarcely press'd the mould, 
 I sometimes anger'd with my heedless steps ; 
 For oft the pause from school, brought me to play 
 Among his gay parterres, and, warm with sport. 
 Sometimes I ran where his laborious hand 
 Had scatter'd seed, whose young protruding buds^ 
 Just peep'd for light and air, and those I broke. 
 Yet stiU he lov'd me, took my wUhng hand. 
 And, as I frisk'd and gambol'd by his side. 
 Would oft thus moralize ; " O careless child !
 
 46 
 
 " O happy innocence, thy little faults 
 
 " Are soon set right again. Oh ! would to Heav'n 
 
 " So were the crimes that stain our riper age ; 
 
 " But they, perform'd in folly's headlong hour, 
 
 ' ' Tho' the hot Wood of youth may frame excuse, 
 
 " Are oft irreparable." Then the tear 
 
 Would fill his aged eye, and deep felt sighs 
 
 Heave his sad breast ; whilst I from sympathy, 
 
 With trembling lip, unknowing why I wept. 
 
 Would press his hand, and answer tear with tear. 
 
 And oft I tum'd my sorrowing eye, and ask'd 
 
 The cause of this his grief. O dearest child. 
 
 Sweet soother of my heart, it is not woe 
 
 That bids me weep ! roam thou among my flowers. 
 
 Unbridled. Friendship pure as thine atones 
 
 For ev'ry error : darling boy, I think 
 
 Whene'er I look upon thy blooming face. 
 
 So like to her's, whom once I lov'd and honour'd, 
 
 On days long past, when all-preserving Heav'n 
 
 Made me the means of mercy, to a pair^ 
 
 Whom guilt and folly in imprudent hour 
 
 Had drawn on rain's verge. Repentant, they 
 
 Sprang from despair, and gain'd the height of joy. 
 
 I think, I was an older man than you 
 By some five years or more. My father liv'd 
 Just by the foaming brook, that parts the wood 
 From yonder rushy common. Near our house 
 Grew some old ehns, which, when the tempest blew, 
 Bow'd their high tops and roar'd. There ravens built 
 Their airy nests. In short, it was a place 
 Rarely imprinted by a human foot, 
 A wild and fearful solitude. My sire. 
 In youth, had trod the social walk of life ; 
 But disappointment keen, and stern disgust \
 
 46 
 
 At talents overlook'd, had driv'n him there. 
 
 He had petition'd to be wood-keeper, 
 
 And was accepted. Seldom seen among 
 
 The haunts of men, his misanthropy grew 
 
 More ripe in harshness, " Genius," he would say, 
 
 " And learning, on the child of want bestow'd, 
 
 " Are life's prime curses." No instruction dawn'd 
 
 Therefore on my young day, to chase the mists 
 
 Of ignorance, and shew the paths of truth. 
 
 Like the tall fern, amid the wild I grew. 
 
 Green and luxuriant, but bore no fruit. 
 
 At length a scene of woe awak'd his soul ; 
 
 Touch'd the weak spring that mov'd the social power 
 
 To pity and to bless ; and self-respect. 
 
 And love paternal smooth'd his rugged heart. 
 
 Then books he gave me, and instruction, such 
 
 As in his youthful days himself receiv'd ; 
 
 But these hard hands to labour were inured. 
 
 And these gay borders — these ambrosial bowers 
 
 Have since claim'd all my care, and I am blest ; 
 
 Few griefs perplex me — while the hand of time 
 
 With truth's own pencil on my brow has v^rote, 
 
 " None is so happy as the man that toils." 
 
 Fall'n were the leaves, and winter chill had reign'd 
 Some month or so, and o'er the frost-bound earth 
 The feather'd flakes lay Ught. At length the wind 
 Roar'd o'er the whiten'd world, and into wreaths 
 High piled the snow. Our cottage, save one part. 
 Where, thro' an op'ning in the wood, the East 
 Loud howling blew the piercing sleet along. 
 Was shelter'd well ; and round the blazing hearth 
 We sate, and heedless heard the giant stride 
 Of desolation, stalking thro' the world. 
 In ruminating silence. Night came on.
 
 47 
 
 And brought redoubled terrors in her train, 
 To those whom chance or sad necessity 
 Compell'd abroad. We, watching the red glow 
 Of half-burnt embers, whose decay proclaim'd 
 The time of bed, gave thanks with fervent hearts 
 That we were safe ; when, sudden, piercing shrieks 
 Resounded from the wood, and rous'd my sire ; 
 Drove the stern torpor from his frozen heart. 
 And; striking on the chord of pity, told 
 He might be useful, I with pleasure saw 
 Humanity's soft glow adorn his cheek. 
 
 Arm'd for the terrors of the doubling storm. 
 Which now our cottage wrapp'd with varying wreaths. 
 And circling eddies winnow'd thro' our path, 
 We fac'd the flaky drift. But first we bade. 
 Our faithful housekeeper, to pile the fire. 
 And cordials of revivifying power 
 In haste prepare. Press'd by the raging gale 
 We brav'd the elemental war, to save 
 The being that was lost. And now, half drown'd 
 In the loud howl of wind, and groaning pines. 
 The fainting shrieks scarce reach'd us : till at last 
 A sudden flash gleam'd from the light I bore. 
 And threw its rays on — e'en at this late hour 
 Of life, when ev'ry sense is cold, I shrink 
 Whilst I relate it — the wan, dying cheek 
 Of a young female. In one arm was laid 
 A sleeping infant, with its little face 
 Close to her bosom press'd, and every robe, 
 Altho' she thus her own frail frame expos'd' 
 Unto the pitiless wind, was wrapp'd around 
 To shelter it. The drowsiness of death 
 Hung heavy on her eyelids ; speech was gone. 
 And scarce a sigh escap'd her clay-cold lips.
 
 48 
 
 Tho' hope had vanish'd, yet with careful speed, 
 My father took the sleeping innocent, 
 Of scarce a month in age, and to my arms 
 Consign'd it ; while the stifTen'd form of her 
 Who lay as dead, he gently bore along 
 Tliro' the rude waste of snow ; at length, benumb'd 
 By the keen eddying drift that clos'd us round. 
 With sliding step, and baffled pace, we gain'd 
 Our welcome cottage, My sweet little charge. 
 Which secm'd to owe its life to the hard fate 
 Of her who bore it, soon awoke, and wail'd 
 With shrill and feeble cries its heavy loss. 
 Strange was the novel sense that thrill'd my heart 
 When its imploring lips, my fingers drew 
 Between them ; mutely asking thus, for her 
 Who was yet Ufeless ! Springing to my eyes. 
 Which soon were overflow'd, the trickUng tear 
 Cours'd down my cheeks, and drop'd upon its face. 
 Whilst dread and terror for its future fate 
 Shook my young frame, and agonis'd my soul ! 
 Then to myself I said, " But I wtII be 
 " A father to thee ; nor shaU cruel fate, 
 " Or foes more cruel, harm thee, wliilst I've power 
 " To fight in thy behalf. Thy father I, 
 "And mother too." But, great and powerful God, 
 How bent my soul in gratitude to thee. 
 When the warm flushes of rekindling life 
 First in light mantlings grac'd its mother's cheek. 
 
 No means had been imtry'd to snatch from death 
 This early-blighted blossom ; and the Ear 
 Which ever leans to fervent pray'r, soon crown'd 
 The effort with success. A flood of joy 
 Now broke on all. She took, bless'd, Idss'd her child. 
 And press'd it to her bosom, then she kneel'd.
 
 49 
 
 And pour'd her gratitude to us ; but grief 
 Still latent in her heart, impell'd the tear. 
 Which oft she wiped away, and strove to smile. 
 Seeing, beyond relapse, her life restor'd. 
 Pure, honest pleasure, mix'd with self-applause, 
 Took full possession of my sire and me, 
 Relaxing his harsh features to a smile. 
 And giving me a pulse before unknown. 
 Now warmth and rapture bade the blast without 
 Pass by unheeded. Strengthen'd, and refresh'd. 
 The lady, oft requir'd, with graceful speech. 
 In moving accents, thus her tale began : — 
 
 " No dawning joy bedeck'd my vernal morn, 
 " But all was dark as chaos, ere the sun 
 " Walk'd o'er the eastern hills, ere light arose 
 " To gild the early world. My sire was harsh, 
 " ..ind my dear mother check'd beneath his frown, — 
 •' The frown of him she lov'd — soon found a grave, 
 " And left her little ones to want and woe ; 
 " Imbitter'd woe, by the neglect of him 
 " Who should have cherish'd us. A vile step-dame 
 " Soon nurs'd my little sister to the deep 
 " And quiet slumber of eternal rest, 
 " Who left no friend to strew her infant bier 
 " Save me. Dash'd from my eyes the tear 
 *' Which nature dropp'd, by that hard mother's hand, 
 " I suflFer'd thro' the space of seven long years. 
 ** At length a merchant's widow, pity mov'd, 
 " Cloth'd, fed, and took me home. A ray of joy 
 " Now lighted up my soul ; and gratitude 
 " On downy wing, uprais'd my little heart 
 *' To joy ne'er felt before. That dearest lady, 
 " Who wore the look of angels in her smile, 
 " Lov'd me most dear, and still was plcas'd to store
 
 60 
 
 " Each needful art in my delighted mind : 
 " Nay more than needful. My too ready sense, 
 " Caught with the glare of ornament and shew, 
 " Long'd and was gratified : to call sweet sounds 
 " From the soft ton'd piano ; trace the flower 
 " Upon the snow-white lawn ; to draw ; dance ; dress ; 
 " (Perfections on the needy ill bestow'd.) 
 " And share the pleasures of the polish'd fair, 
 " Then form'd my chief employ. By ev'iy tongue 
 " My form, my mind, was prais'd ; and my best friend, 
 •' Looking on both as foster'd by her hand, 
 " Smil'd at the praise which made her scholar vain, 
 " And drove me down to infamy and scorn ; 
 " For, thus adorn'd, I won mv Henrv's heart. 
 '* Ah, cruel ! cruel !" Here her fault'ring voice 
 Was broke by sighs, and stopp'd. At length a train 
 Of agonizing drops down her pale cheeks 
 Fell tearful ; like a lily in a shower 
 She hung her beauteous head, mournful and mute. 
 At length, more calm, she thus her tale resum'd : — 
 " Thus roll'd the pleasing hours, and all was joy ; 
 " Till, on a fatal night, while high in health, 
 " The hand of sudden dissolution snatch'd 
 " My only friend to Heav'n. Brief was the stroke, 
 " And gave no time to leave her hapless charge 
 " Above the reach of want. My gaudy robes, 
 " Those shining emblems of my gentler day, 
 " And spotless innocence, were now my all. 
 " Loth, and asham'd to burthen him, who heir'd 
 " My lady's wealth — ere he from India came, 
 " Where three long years, th' uncertain hand of trade 
 " Had linger'd out his stay — I sought my home ; 
 " My former home, where the fair specious smile, 
 " Such smile as grac'fi the lips of Lucifer,
 
 51 
 
 " When he, usurping light, deceiv'd the Sun*, 
 " Receiv'd me, hiding deeds as dark as his ; 
 " I bless'd the change, and innocent of ill, 
 " Like a poor flutt'ring fascinated bird, 
 " Ey'd by the rattle-snake, unheedful dropp'd 
 " Into the deadly snare. No wile was left 
 " Untried by her who rul'd my father's house, 
 " To lure me to my ruin ; and success 
 " Completed all her hopes. Arriving now, 
 " The heir of my late friend, with anxious haste 
 " He sought and found me ; paid me all respect, 
 " And all the delicate attentions love 
 " Inspires in Uberal minds. His noble heart, 
 " Atoning for his mother's forc'd neglect 
 " In leaving me forlorn, most humbly sued, 
 " As she had giv'n no part, that I would bless 
 " Tier fond, adoring son by sharing all. 
 * What could I do ? For his dear mother's sake 
 " I ow'd him gratitude, and for his ovra 
 " I gave him love. Light as the gossamer, 
 " Now fled the halcyon hours. In chasten'd joy, 
 " Pure as the seraph's wish, we past our days, 
 " And only waited till the year expir'd, 
 " Of mourning and respect for that dear saint, 
 *' Who gave my Henry birth, with willing hearts 
 " To be united by the tenderest tie 
 " That mingles soul with soul ; till one sad hour, 
 " When Love with soft and fond illusion, lull'd 
 " The guardian eye of prudence ; down we sunk, 
 " Immers'd in guilt. No warning voice alarm'd 
 " That slumb'ring power. The friendly -seemmg wretch, 
 " Who counsell'd me, instead of watchful care 
 
 * Milton.
 
 52 
 
 *' To point the paths of right, us'd ev'ry wile 
 
 " To lure me into shame. ' In night's dark hour, 
 
 " Tho' we were not united, souls hke ours, 
 
 " So well sustain'd, by wise and prudent cares, 
 
 " Could never fall ; just, constant, virtuous, 
 
 " And modest we ; and should aught prove wrong, 
 
 *' The marriage-tie would soon atone for all.' 
 
 " So would she talk, and in unguarded hour 
 
 " We gave up all to love. Repentance then 
 
 " Awoke, with all her busy train of fears, 
 
 " And misery, soon mix'd my cup with gall ; 
 
 " For to the venom'd sting of keen remorse, 
 
 " Shame lent her aid. The secret of my crime, 
 
 " In bitter agony of soul, I found 
 
 " Soon like to get abroad. O, then with tears 
 
 " I press'd a speedy union ; but he, 
 
 " Ev'n he, on whose true faith I could have stak'd 
 
 " My everlasting peace, left me alone 
 
 " To mourn, unmark'd, unfriended, unrehev'd. 
 
 " 'Twas then the tempest of maternal hate, 
 
 " Scowl'd o'er my helpless head. No Hemy, now, 
 
 " To sooth my sorrows ! All complaints to him 
 
 " Were pass'd unheeded by. Now the dread hour, 
 
 " That sad and tr}'ing hour, to shame like mine, 
 
 " Approach'd, and all its treble load of woe ; 
 
 " I was a mother, and had not one friend 
 
 " To sooth, sustain, or pity ; my full heart 
 
 " Was crush'd with pangs like death's ; all agonized, 
 
 " As sinners dying in their guilt, was I. 
 
 " At length my mother, seeming to relent, 
 
 " To Henry took a letter. Soon, too soon, 
 
 " Tliis harsh, unfeeling answer he returned :•— 
 
 " ' O, Ellen, still too dear ! unhappy girl ! 
 
 -' Why thus insult me ? Know I not the child
 
 53 
 
 " For whom you fondly plead, is none of mine ? 
 
 " Curs'd be the day, when first that faithless form 
 
 " I saw and lov'd. To more auspicious climes, 
 
 " Forlorn of heart, from England now I go ; 
 
 " I must forget thee ! yet, lest ruthless want 
 
 " Sink thee more deep in guilt, take this, — Farewell !' 
 
 " What pass'd for many a day and night, I know not, 
 
 " But rav'd in mad delirium ; at length 
 
 " My reason dawn'd ; but sullen apathy 
 
 " Had froze the stream of life ; I mus'd and spoke not, 
 
 " But lost all care. Dark melancholy then 
 
 " Had shrouded all my sorrows in the tomb ; 
 
 " But this lov'd boy, whom, out of hate to me, 
 
 " My mother cherish'd as a living proof 
 
 " Tliat spread my shame more wide, with feeble plaints 
 
 " And querulous wailings reach'd my ear, and rouz'd 
 
 " Tiie mother in my soul : I saw its face, 
 
 " 1 felt the pressure of its feeble lips, 
 
 *• And for its sake, dear pledge, resolv'd on life ; 
 
 " Wliatever he, whom stiU my heart owns lord, 
 
 '* Inclosed with the hard sentence of my woe, 
 
 " I know not yet. For my unguilty child, 
 
 " As I resolv'd to dare Fate's angriest frown, 
 
 " Heav'n soon my health restor'd. With tenfold force 
 
 " Again my mother storm'd, and at the height 
 
 " Of bitter hate, this day, with insult loud, 
 
 " Me and my infant spurn'd into the blast ; 
 
 " No bitt'rer ever blew ! I wish'd to go 
 
 " And seek my cruel love ; but night came on ; 
 
 " I lost my way ; and sinking in the storm, 
 
 " Had not kind Providence sent you to save, 
 
 " I and this innocent had perish'd. Thanks, 
 
 " Oh ! thanks, my friends ! 'Tis terrible to die 
 
 " Unpitied, unforgivcn by those we love ;
 
 54 
 
 " Yet so I fear it must be, tho' the date 
 
 " Is now clcferr'd by you." She ended here, 
 
 By us admir'd — and silence fell on all. 
 
 Now the loud roarings of the tempest paus'd. 
 Or howl'd in blasts detach'd, which, growling, scour'd 
 Tlie snow-topt wood, and partial glories shone 
 Silvering the fleecy clouds ; the power of frost 
 Breath'd keener from the east, and thro' the void 
 Spread cold intense : and now our lovely guest 
 Retir'd, while we, conversing by the fire 
 That sparkled keen blue flame, in transport bless' d 
 The Pow'r that made us instruments of good ; 
 Wlien loud, imploring cries of manly grief 
 Demanded entrance. We deliberate not, 
 But hft the latch once more. A stranger enter'd. 
 Who bore within his trembhng arms a man 
 Insensible, whose fair and flowing locks 
 Had swept the waste ; and, matted with the frost, 
 Were one firm icicle. Late prime appear'd 
 To Unger with the stranger, and old age 
 Trod on its heels, and silver'd o'er his head 
 With many a tint of grey. He asked our aid. 
 In accents broke with grieving ; gently down 
 Then laid the seeming corpse ; and, while my sire 
 Us'd ev'iy art to stay the ebbing hfe. 
 Which still he hop'd might flutter round its heart, 
 Stood mute with woe, shaking the wintry breath, 
 In glassy shivers from his hoary brow. 
 Where honesty sat thron'd : and faithfulness. 
 With virtue still combin'd. He was indeed 
 A good old servant, and a steady friend. 
 Prone on his knees he fell, and bending low, 
 Over his lov'd lord, his fortunes thus deplor'd : — 
 " O my lov'd master, and my sole support
 
 55 
 
 " In failing age ; be ever curst the hour 
 
 " When the insidious tale of malice found 
 
 " A passage to thy heart, which marr'd with stains 
 
 " The fairest bud that ever grac'd the bow'r, 
 
 " And crush'd it, while the purest dew of morn 
 
 " Gemm'd its sweet form — ere yet the blossom spi-ead 
 
 " That might have grac'd thy bosom. Woe the tide 
 
 " I said her mind was spotless as her form, 
 
 " But never till this sad and fatal day 
 
 " Would you beUeve me. Miserable ! Where, 
 
 " Where can the friendless wand'rer hide her head ! 
 
 " Where but in death ? Perhaps this very hour 
 
 *' Your gentle spirits meet ; and I, a wretch, 
 
 " Who with my best of life would serve you both, 
 
 " Am left behind !" Then bow'd his hoary head. 
 
 And wept aloud ; till, as in just reward 
 
 T.. him, his faithfulness, his truth, his love, 
 
 Hif, master moved ; but weakness still with bonds 
 
 Restrain'd the course of speech, " He lives !" exclaim'd 
 
 The faitliful, good old man, " My master lives ! 
 
 " Just Heav'n be prais'd ! But, ah ! poor Ellen, where, 
 
 " Where art thou and thy child — my lord's dear child ! 
 
 " Sure ye both sleep in death ; for such a night 
 
 " Would freeze the heart of those inur'd to bide 
 
 " The pelting of the storm from day to day, 
 
 " At bleak unshelter'd labour." Here the head 
 
 Of his enfeebled lord on his old breast 
 
 He softly laid ; who thus, while bitter groans 
 
 Shook all his frame, in faultring accents spoke : — 
 
 " Yes ; she was innocent ! O but for me 
 
 " She still had liv'd !" A kindly shower of tears 
 
 Reliev'd his bursting heart ; and Ellen heard ; 
 
 For her we first had sav'd. Op'ning the door, 
 
 She flew, and with her infant in her arms,
 
 50 
 
 Close by the good old man she knelt and wept 
 
 In agony. " O dearest '.—best ! — dear Heniy ! 
 
 " Bless, bless my God ! you are convinc'd, my Henry ! 
 
 " This hour repays my woe a thousand fold ! 
 
 " Let that dear tongue repeat ; did you not say 
 
 " That I was innocent ? Behold my love 
 
 " Your pictur'd self, my best beloved, see " 
 
 Your child, she would have said — but conscious shame 
 
 Bent her frail form, and sinking by its side, 
 
 Death seem'd once more to triumph ; but again 
 
 Was he repuls'd. The heart-revivmg scene 
 
 All Henry's scatter'd senses quick recall'd. 
 
 Who, fondly gazing on his beauteous boy, 
 
 Fast with the mother clasp'd it to his heart. 
 
 While admiration, love, and pity, shook 
 
 His soul by turns ; but soon the soothing voice. 
 
 The trembling, soothing voice of her he lov'd 
 
 Charm'd all his passions to a peaceful calm. 
 
 Meanwhile the old man kneeling still, implor'd 
 Heav'n's choicest bliss upon them ; kiss'd the child. 
 Bedewing it with tears of gratitude — 
 Of gratitude to Heaven, whose sacred care 
 Had doom'd the issue happy ; whose broad eye 
 Had mar'd and render'd vain the base intent 
 Of her who sought their ruin, She, it prov'd. 
 Was sister to my father, and in youth 
 Had been the slave of lawless love. Severe, 
 My grandsire spurn'd her from his bolted door 
 And as to warm and youthful fires she'd fall'n 
 The guilty prey, and no kind hearted friend 
 Sought her dimm'd spark of virtue to relume, 
 It soon was quench'd for ever. Driven to roam 
 At large in an uncharitable world, 
 Where this false step in every bosom found
 
 57 
 
 A stem, relentless foe ; her arm was rais'd 
 
 Against that world. Revenge, and hatred dire. 
 
 Still on destruction bent her angry soul, 
 
 And ruin mark'd her paths ; chief to disrobe 
 
 The female bosom of its innocence 
 
 Was her foul aim. Events, too long to tell. 
 
 Led the ungentle wanderer to the arms 
 
 Of Ellen's sordid sire, where that poor maid 
 
 Soon felt the ravage of her lawless hand. 
 
 And sunk in shame and sorrow. Crafty she. 
 
 Well knowing Henry's true unshaken love. 
 
 Made firmer by possession, form'd a scrawl. 
 
 Which, warmly glowing with the tender tale 
 
 Of happy love, lamenting absence, bade 
 
 Her soul remember the affianc'd ties 
 
 That closely bound them ; and, when night had thrown 
 
 Her dusky shadow o'er the sleeping world, 
 
 i^.iiother happy interview implor'd. 
 
 This letter, by a rival's hand subscrib'd, 
 
 With guileful speed to Henry she convey'd. 
 
 Blasting his dearest hopes ; yet still he not believ'd. 
 
 Till added proof its answer back contain'd. 
 
 There, nicely imitated, Ellen's pen 
 
 Seem'd, all the writer wish'd to grant, and more ; 
 
 And sad conviction stung his injur'd soul. 
 
 Whose fury burst all bounds. To part the pair 
 
 Was now full easy. All the letters charg'd. 
 
 From Ellen's hand, with grief and hopes forlorn, 
 
 Were by her mother seiz'd. Except the last, 
 
 Not one reach Henry. Answering he enclos'd 
 
 Five hundred pounds — which, as a falcon stoops 
 
 To grasp its prey, the dark destroyer seiz'd ; 
 
 And, thinking Henry fled, she quickly sent 
 
 His Ellen wand'ring in the wintry blast.
 
 58 
 
 But truth at last prevail'd. The tell-tale note. 
 
 Soon as receiv'd, she gave for gaudy robes. 
 
 And change of ghtt'ring gold, to one whose heart, 
 
 Tlio' honest in itself, did yet believe 
 
 All was not right : something like pity too 
 
 Liv'd in his virtuous soul, tho' bred to trade. 
 
 The cell of minds. He, questioning the wretch. 
 
 Guilt flush'd her cheek, while all her usage foul 
 
 Of EUen, and the tales reproach had told 
 
 Of Henry's fondness, rush'd across his mind. 
 
 Increasing doubt. To whom the bill he bore, 
 
 Telling the hand that gave it him, and when, 
 
 A faithful servant to distracted Henry, 
 
 Who always took the gentle EUen's part. 
 
 By this convinc'd, declar'd his stern resolve 
 
 To search the matter to its base ; to prove 
 
 The wicked guilty, and the spotlesss pure. 
 
 Henry, whose trembling soul scarce dar'd to hope. 
 
 Reluctant gave him leave. "With truth his guide. 
 
 The ev'ning of that day, when all forlorn 
 
 Poor Ellen left her home, arm'd by the powers 
 
 Of law defy'd, he went, and soon unrob'd 
 
 The vile embezzlement and breach of trust. 
 
 In fearful woe the guilty woman stood. 
 
 And all confess'd. But here the power of words 
 
 To tell the agonizing pangs that rent 
 
 The breast of Henry at the news must fail. 
 
 Forth in the rigors of the storm he sprang 
 
 To seek the wanderer, till overwhelm'd with grief, 
 
 Stretch'd in the wintry blast he fainting fell ; 
 
 And, had not love and faithful aid been near. 
 
 Had fallen for ever. The abandon'd cause 
 
 Of all this scene of woe, soon render'd up 
 
 To retribution dire her sinful soul ;
 
 59 
 
 For on that very memorable night 
 
 That Ellen to her Henry's arms restor'd, 
 
 By her own hand she fell, and was interr'd 
 
 "Where yon three highways meet. Her husband fled 
 
 To lands beyond the sea. The sting of guilt 
 
 Thus goads to ruin, and in endless worlds. 
 
 With the keen anguish of eternal pain. 
 
 May still pursue the wretch, who unreclaim'd 
 
 From her first fault, by admonition mild. 
 
 Is left the prey of scorn. She, spoil'd of all 
 
 Remains of virtuous hope, abandons shame, 
 
 And sinks in infamy, to rise no more, 
 
 This, when the transport of their meeting paus'd. 
 Sweetly reciprocal they told, and joy 
 Unbounded reign'd in every heart but ours, 
 "Who curs'd their sorrow's cause. My sire, asham'd, 
 W ith much reluctance, parted from his boy. 
 To them who ask'd, and would have suffer'd aught 
 For both our sakes ; but, for himself unmov'd, 
 "With stern regard the smallest meed refus'd 
 From those who suffer'd for his sister's crimes. 
 
 Next mom this lovely and repentant pair 
 "Where married, and were happy. No dark cloud 
 Obscur'd then: sun ; and, after a long day 
 Of brightest shine, it sunk in night serene. 
 To rise in better worlds. My father then, 
 "With careful hand, the seeds of learning strew'd 
 In my uncultur'd mind ; and soon those dear 
 And grateful friends remov'd me to this place : 
 They would have rais'd me to a higher post 
 Than this I hold ; but as I ask'd not wealth,
 
 60 
 
 -The source of many cares, I chose to toil 
 Among these bowers, whose every budding bloom. 
 Green leaf, and rising stem, for many a year 
 Have led my soul to meditate on God. 
 And oft I wonder, when I think how he 
 Thro' dark besetting ills his creatures brings, 
 By simplest means, to pleasure's fair abode. 
 Such means was I ; and tho' the tear will start 
 Whene'er I ponder on the ways of guUt, 
 And misery theh: end, my bUss is great : 
 For know, dear boy, the helpless child I sav'd. 
 The pressure of whose lips I feel e'en now. 
 Was your dear father. With the gentle drop 
 Of silent gratitude he'd close his tale. 
 And, oft repeated, memory engrav'd 
 Each sentence on the tablet of my heart. 
 And thus I bid it live.
 
 HENRY AND ANNA . 
 
 PART I. 
 
 What is the world to them, 
 Its pomp, its pleasure, and its nonsense all, 
 Who in each other clasp whatever fair 
 High fancy forms, or lavish hearts can wish. 
 
 Far fled from scenes of strife and dire debate. 
 Careless of party's love, or party's hate. 
 Unheeding all the noisy rabble says, 
 Its doubts, its blame, its confidence, its praise ; 
 Within this grot, by blossom'd hawthorns crown'd, 
 While living music wakes the wood around ; 
 While dewy odours, borne on Zephyr's wing. 
 Exhale their sweets to cheer the genial Spring ; 
 While the slow trickling of the distant rill 
 With gentle murmur bids my soul be still ; 
 While this low hum my softcn'd senses steals 
 From all the world, its cares, its joys, its ills.
 
 62 
 
 If fond regrets their presence intervene. 
 
 'Tis that my friend is absent from the sceng. 
 
 But since our fate that social bhss denies 
 Let us with thanks this poorer comfort prize ; 
 And still my pleasing task shall be to write, 
 Tho' no proud muse the lengthen'd line indite. 
 
 To paint this happy spot description fails. 
 Its hills, its fountains, meadows, woods and dales ; 
 Its lakes, where, gleaming o'er their Hmpid bed. 
 Light's var}ang hues a thousand lustres shed ; 
 Its cultur'd bowers, within those fence appear 
 The fairest blooms that deck the changing year ; 
 Its cottages, where plenty spreads her store. 
 And Freedom gilds the labours of the poor : 
 The daisy green, where sportful youths advance 
 To join the lasses in the sprightly dance : 
 Its fruitful fields, enclos'd with nicest care. 
 Where ev'ry happy cottage has its share ; 
 Where vivid meads, with blooming verdure crown'd. 
 Exalt with joy the rustic's Sunday round, 
 While he beholds the useful succour rise 
 That keeps his cow when winter glooms the skies : 
 That keeps his cow ! ah ! to his heart how dear 
 That useful beast, which yields the milky cheer ! 
 See his bhthe partner, laden with the pail. 
 Each mom and ev'ning tread the dewy vale ; 
 While lively Echo pours the strain along 
 In soften'd tones, responsive to her song. 
 See tiny urchins, big with glee and fun, 
 Cap'ring along to meet their mothers nm ; 
 Health dancing in their eyes, they waiting stand 
 Till the fill'd can supplies each httle hand. 
 
 Ah ! lovely Anna, how thy heart must share 
 These joys dispens'd, and foster'd by thy care !
 
 63 
 
 Mistress of all the widely spreading grounds. 
 
 To where yon hill the rapid vision bounds — 
 
 Of those fair fields, where no proud tyrants reign. 
 
 Where no sly agent scatters want and pain ; 
 
 Where no monopolies disgrace the soil. 
 
 To sadden with despair the lab'rer's toil ; 
 
 But where, to aid his hand, thy bounties shine. 
 
 And he, exulting, cries, " This spot is mine !" 
 
 Fondly, I linger o'er the cheering scene, 
 And share the bUss that brightens all the green ; 
 That bliss which prompts the ploughman's simple song, 
 As proud he drives his stately team along ; 
 That in his fair-one's glowing bosom plays. 
 As soft she hears his master speak his praise ; 
 And charm'd by Fancy meets the nuptial hour. 
 And s ims th' amount of all her hoarded dow'r ; 
 That bliss which warms their grateful souls to see 
 Yon decent cot beneath the shelt'ring tree ; 
 Which, when the halcyon hours of freedom come, 
 Most dear to love, is destin'd for their home. 
 That bUss, which frees from care their quiet breasts. 
 When no dark fears of future want molests ; 
 That raptur'd bliss, which made the village gay. 
 And fir'd all hearts on Anna's bridal day. 
 Ev'n now its pleasing pow'r idea warms. 
 Thrills thro* my frame, and all sensation charms. 
 Then let attention to the strain prevail. 
 While memory unfolds her glowing tale. 
 
 Night's radiant queen, and all her starry train, 
 Had fled to scenes beyond the western main ;
 
 04 
 
 Far o'er the hills a golden splendour flung ; 
 Before her beam th' unwilling shades withdrew, 
 Aurora, in the ruddy orient hung. 
 And deck'd by spring, the landscape smil'd in view ; 
 Their rich perfume unnumber'd blossoms yield. 
 Sweet was the garden, sweet the dewy field ; 
 Sweet ev'ry bloom that grac'd the mom's career- 
 May's eldest born, the loveliest of the year. 
 
 Sleep's gentle train from Henry's couch retire. 
 And rest on hds unwaken'd by desire : 
 Swift from his down, with heart elate he sprung, 
 While round his form the manly graces hung : 
 Health on his cheeks, and rapture in his eyes, 
 At Anna's window thus he fondly cries : — 
 " Oh, Anna, dear, awake ! than all more fair 
 " Of Nature's purest gems, arise, prepare 
 " To meet thy Henry at yon sacred fane, 
 " Where pleasures wait to banish ev'ry pain." 
 There will w^e seal those vows which beings tie. 
 And they no more are parted but to die. 
 
 Above all lights now Sol in glory shone. 
 And chas'd the mists before his burning throne. 
 The guests all meet : loud sings the bubbling urn. 
 And in the mill the crackhng berries turn. 
 Pure as the dew by morning lillies shed ; 
 By two sweet maids, her lov'd companions, led 
 In all the simple charms of dress attir'd. 
 By every friend esteem'd, belov'd, admir'd, 
 Anna appear'd, in lowly modest guise. 
 And on her Henry bent her conscious eyes. 
 With httle terrors apprehension strove 
 To sink her spirits, scarce sustain'd by love ; 
 Fears undefin'd, her pleasure seem'd to foil. 
 But soon the gloom was banish'd by a smile.
 
 65 
 
 In converse gay one social hour we spent. 
 Then to the church our willing footsteps bent. 
 Low bow'd the pair, with sacred awe imprest, 
 And kneeUng friends the mystic union blest. 
 With flutt'ring haste she seal'd th' eternal vow, 
 Source of her highest bhss or keenest woe. 
 
 Ended the rites, towards home our steps we trace. 
 While joy extatic shone in Henry's face. 
 But in his breast some timid doubts arise. 
 How she th' important change should seem to prize ; 
 Soft speaking glances on her lord she threw, 
 And often from his gaze her eye withdrew. 
 
 Now the harmonious bells in concert ring. 
 While merry rustics hymeneals sing ; 
 " Heav'n bless the pair !" was echo'd from each tongue, 
 " Heev'n bless the guardians of the lab'ring the throng !" 
 Dispos'd in rows, the simp'ring females wait. 
 To meet us as we pass the holy gate. 
 
 They each fair flow'r that decks the vernal morn, 
 Purples the mead, or whitens on the thorn ; 
 Or, loveher, blooms beneath a milder day. 
 And scents the garden drest by youtlrful May, 
 In mix'd profusion scatter o'er the pair. 
 The modest cowshp and the rose were there, 
 The simple pansy, like the snow array'd ; 
 The lowly violet, lover of the shade, 
 Heart's-ease, whose powers dejected maiden's try. 
 When hopeless passion wakes the tender sigh ; 
 The yellow cuckow-bud — the primrose pale. 
 The silver May, that scents the morning gale. 
 The king-cup bright, in golden glory drest. 
 The tuhp, boasting of its varied vest ; 
 The graceful hare -bell, capp'd with bending blue, 
 And clover buds, still wet with ling'ring dew.
 
 0(3 
 
 Forth from its strong confine the hogshead rolls. 
 And old October foams in sparhng bowls. 
 Th' assembled village to the green advance. 
 Round goes the ale, and livelier moves the dance ; 
 Loos'd from the plough, at large the cattle roam, 
 And quitting toil, the ploughmen hasten home : 
 Ev'n the poor harrow-boy, in garments trim, 
 Was there, for this was holiday with him. 
 
 Recurring thought still hovers near the spot 
 Where ev'ry bosom, ev'ry care forgot ; 
 (For care will sometimes on the mind intrude, 
 Tho' blest hke theirs, as virtuous and as goo d ;) 
 Where laughter wild hilarity bestrode. 
 And round the jovial throng exulting rode. 
 No passing shadow of domestic fear, 
 No dreaded ill to sour the cup was there : 
 But still, as round th' inspiring beverage mov'd. 
 Each mental eye beheld the home it lov'd. 
 Far driv'n from whence appear'd the meagre pow'r. 
 And plenty reign'd to bless the sober hour. 
 Back on their souls the glancing vision turn'd. 
 And joy to extacy their bosoms bum'd, 
 Flash'd in their sparkling eyes, new-nerv'd their frame. 
 As manly shouts arose to Anna's name : 
 While softer sounds of gratulation flow'd 
 From female lips, on her who all bestow'd. 
 
 Now from high noon, day's shining gloiy fled, 
 And sloping beams a milder lustre shed ; 
 Tinkhng, the second bell proclaim'd the hovu" 
 To meet, exhausted nature to restore ; 
 We dine. With wit, by social ease refined, 
 Unerring emblems of superior mind. 
 In converse gay the flying moments pass. 
 And bright ideas float in ev'ry glass.
 
 67 
 
 " Health to the happy pah- !" a bumper crown'd, 
 " Health to the happy pair !" the halls resound." 
 
 At length retire the trippling sylph-like train. 
 Their lovers foUow. O'er the glass remain 
 Some honest fellows, blest with hearts of wood. 
 That beauty's keenest glance had still withstood. 
 They, relishing the highly season'd joke. 
 Shout, laugh, and sing, involv'd in clouds of smoke ; 
 Gr-eat, above ev'ry prow'r, high Bacchus crown, 
 WhUe in each head he rears his nodding throne. 
 
 Be this their bliss. The pleasures that refine. 
 Raise, and amend, the human heart be mine. 
 Best found, where females hold their gentle sway. 
 Around whose forms the polish'd graces play. 
 And virtuous precepts, breath'd fi-om lips of love 
 We hear, convinc'd, and eagerly approve ; 
 While still the muses' soul — inspiring strains, 
 Are priz'd, and honor'd, most, where beauty reigns. 
 
 O'er the green lawn, the lovely throng retire, 
 The buadmg blooms of nature to admire ; 
 Where each sweet shrub that opens on the day. 
 The brignt laburnum, and the lilac gay. 
 On May's soft breast their velvet leaves expand, 
 A fragrant garland, fresh from Flora's hand ; 
 The verdant bay, the laurustina too. 
 Unfading hollies, laurels ever new, 
 Lift their low heads ; while, tow'ring o'er the scene. 
 The stately fir unfolds a deeper green. 
 
 Beneath these shades is many a fair alcove. 
 Secure retreats for friendship, or for love ; 
 There, while the sweet-briar scents the western gale. 
 While the brovra shades o'er Spring's fair sun prevail 
 While, floating thro' the calm unruffled air, 
 Joy's sprightly voices still the throbs of cai-c ;
 
 G8 
 
 A social few recline in converse sweet, 
 Wliile sentiment and soul enraptur'd meet. 
 
 " Blest be this day !" exulting Henry cry'd, 
 " Blest be this day !" the anxious fair reply'd ; 
 " Possess'd of thee, my Henry, kind and good, 
 " My soul is blest ! yet will some fears intrude, 
 " Lest these fair hours too soon in ev'ning close, 
 " And love's illusive lamp be quench'd in woes. 
 " Perhaps one month may all my bliss contain, 
 " And all the rest be misery and pain. 
 " Oh ! say, from Anna's arm can Henry stray, 
 " And leave her to those ills the helpless prey ?" 
 
 Hurt by the doubts that clouded Anna's breast, 
 The gentle Henry thus his love express'd ; 
 (A few wdth souls like theirs the converse heard. 
 That all her doubts and causeless sorrows cheer'd :) 
 " Oh ! from those fears, thy trembling bosom free, 
 " And let it rest its happiness on me ; 
 " The blooms that deck my fair one's present hours, 
 " Shall strew her paths with never-fading flow'rs. 
 *' None but the wretch, whose basest passions move, 
 " Could ever change while blest with Anna's love. 
 " He whom no pure, no mental goodness charms, 
 " No polish'd manners win, nor virtue warms, 
 " Could in thy spotless soul no pleasure find, 
 " For love ne'er blossoms in the sordid mind, 
 " But quickly dies ; when stormy passions grow, 
 " Usurp its place, and fill the heart with woe. 
 
 " Love, ])uilt on true esteem, for ever stands, 
 " The shocks of Fate, of Time's corroding hands : 
 "This love is ours, and nothing shall destroy 
 " The sacred calm of our domestic joy. 
 
 " Behold yon hoary monarch of the wood, 
 " Which braving every storm, thro' years has stood ;
 
 69 
 
 " See the fair tendrils of a curling vine, 
 
 " Round the rough trunk and stately limbs entwine. 
 
 " They, closely join'd, embracing, and embrac'd, 
 
 " Uninjur'd, brave the winter, wild and waste ; 
 
 " She, while the oak her feeble shoots upholds, 
 
 " In fond return his steady trunk enfolds ; 
 
 " And strength'ning still, the union grows with time 
 
 " Still more secure, as her young branches climb. 
 
 " See them, the emblems of thy faith and mine ; 
 " See me the oak, and thee the tender vine ; 
 " 'Tis thine to charm hfe's wintry cares to me, 
 " And mine to prop, protect, and shelter thee ; 
 " While foster'd by Enjoyment's downy wing, 
 " Still new delights, in future hours may spring ; 
 " May added rapture to our souls impart, 
 " And bind thee, Anna, closer to my heart. 
 " Thus, happy down the stream of time we'll glide, 
 " I still a lover, you my lovely bride. 
 " At length, when many a year has roU'd away, 
 " And creeping age shall crown our brows with grey, 
 " Calmly we'll view our course, in virtue run, 
 " And praise the fav'ring power that made us one ; 
 " Till that Great Pow'r shall call us hence, to prove 
 " Th' immortal pleasure of sublimer love." 
 
 I've seen the face of Heav'n its smiles display. 
 In Autumn mild ; when near the close of day, 
 Unveil'd by clouds, the spring of light sunk low. 
 When the still skies assum'd a softer glow ; 
 What time the hind aside his sickle threw, 
 And brush'd with homeward feet the falling dew. 
 But, smiles, more lovely, play'd o'er Anna's face. 
 And every feature blush'd a sweeter grace. 
 As peace she felt, and confidence restor'd 
 By this soft- soothing of her heart's own lord.
 
 70 
 
 Now, wheeling to the west, decUn'd the Sun, 
 And the stretch'd shadow told his course near run ; 
 We seek the house, where many a fervent voice 
 Was rais'd, to laud the object of its choice. 
 Wine, and the herb narcotic, still they sung, 
 Loud thro' the rooms the noisy echoes rung ; 
 While, thro' their brains, licentious wishes roll. 
 And jests obscene add relish to the bowl. 
 
 At length, mild night her sombre mantle spreads. 
 The clam'rous rooks ascend their airy beds ; 
 By starts the cool and rustling breezes rise. 
 While the pale twilight gleams across the skies : 
 Each blade with gems soft falling dews adorn. 
 And close the blackbird nestles in the thorn. 
 
 In decent guise our villagers seek rest. 
 Each in his happy fate and feelings blest. 
 No idle wanton waste with them was seen, 
 To soil the pleasures of the joyous green ; 
 For still, as daily toil their nerves unbrac'd. 
 They had their home-brew'd ale, nor fear'd to taste. 
 The temp'rate draught their ev'ning fire made gay. 
 And drove the labourer's weary pangs away. 
 
 Happy the hind with competency blest 
 To cherish industry, and sweeten rest ; 
 So when he burns beneath the summer's glow. 
 When labour leads him thro* the trackless snow, 
 Strengthen'd for toil, unshrinking, unsubdued, 
 He plies his daily task, with powers renew'd. 
 So when the feast unlocks its plenteous stores. 
 And all around its wild profusion pours ; 
 No lengthen'd fast compels his prudent soul 
 To pass the sacred bounds of self-controul ; 
 He takes no more than decent joy inspires. 
 And, early, from the tempting scene retires.
 
 71 
 
 But when gaunt hunger rears her with'ring head. 
 And feebly crawls around the poor man's shed ; 
 When pale with famine to his work he goes. 
 Faints in the beam, or shivers in the snows. 
 While only the poor spring that cools the soil, 
 And scanty bread repair the waste of toil ; 
 As well he knows that many a morn must rise. 
 Ere the full board again shall greet his eyes ; 
 At the gay feast he takes his greedy stand, 
 Asfl tears the viands with rapacious hand. 
 Amidst the plenty of delicious fare 
 Gorges of all, and knows not when to spare : 
 With thirst unsated, long the bowl he drains. 
 Till decency no more her post maintains. 
 Then riot wild, and mad confusion spread 
 Their reeling banners round his giddy head ; 
 H 2 shouts, he sings, till all sensation flies. 
 And, sunk in sleep, his soul in drunken ruin lies. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST PART.
 
 HENRY AND ANNA. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 Unerring guide of all the powers of song. 
 To whom the rays that light up truth belong ; 
 Whose hand restores the forms of scenes gone by, 
 And clears the vision of the mind's dim eye ; 
 Best gift of Heav'n, immortal memory tell, 
 Tho' sad regrets my pitying bosom swell. 
 Did all who join'd the greensward dance that day 
 An equal love of sober rule display ? 
 
 Ah, no ! From where yon turret's spiry \mde 
 Tops the tall pines that shade its ample side ; 
 Whose park's wide waste of acres proudly tells 
 The splendor that within the mansion dwells ; 
 Whose fair alcoves, and wide extended bowers. 
 Glow with eternal greens, and fragrant flowers ; 
 Whence odours, winnow'd by the sweeping gale, ; 
 Breathe streams of incense thro' th' extensive vale,
 
 73 
 
 From where vast woods the dusky landscape fill, 
 Usurp the cottage, and adorn the hill, 
 AUur'd by feasting, came a tatter'd band. 
 Who broke, for once, their master's stern command. 
 Ere those hard masters snatch'd their hopes away. 
 Their cots were neat, and grac'd with gardens gay ; 
 And Memory tells that once their fields possess'd. 
 And thought themselves, and were, supremely blest. 
 But, ah ! those dear and bounteous aids to toil. 
 When spring advancing rouz'd the sleepy soil, 
 "When the young bud, by kindly warmth propell'd. 
 In brown attire to meet the sunbeam sweU'd, 
 Claim'd all their care, and from their wonted task, 
 A httle time to plant their grounds they'd ask. 
 When ardent Summer pour'd her burning flood. 
 And flush'd with hfe mature, their meadows stood, 
 F .jh man with eager hand his scythe would wield. 
 To cut the seedy ripeness of his field : 
 Nor would he loiter till his much-priz'd hay 
 Beyond the reach of floods and tempests lay. 
 
 Oh ! could we view the bosoms of the great. 
 And read each heart that scorns his low estate ; 
 How very vain would be our hope to find. 
 Such solid joy as warm'd his humble mind, 
 When safely stack'd, he view'd the fragrant cheer 
 That fed his faithful cow when Winter rul'd the year. 
 
 But like the raptures of the virgin's breast. 
 Who, while with hope and conscious fondness blest. 
 By haughty friends is from her lover torn. 
 And sudden falls, of hope and peace forlorn : 
 So sudden fled their joy. In evil hour 
 The fawning farmers sought the man of pow'r. 
 Not to the lord who own'd the spacious vale 
 Dar'd they relate their vile and crafty tale ;
 
 74 
 
 For he, they knew, to gen'rous deeds a friend. 
 Would never from the poor his comforts rend. 
 His heart to tyranny was still a foe. 
 And his eye glisten'd at a tale of woe ; 
 But, hating- trouble, and by knaves misled. 
 Would ever from complaints avert his head ; 
 And by his scoundrel train with ease deceiv'd. 
 Heard all their tales, and all their tales believ'd. 
 So to the dome, where high in borrow'd sway 
 His agent reign'd, they bent their artful way. 
 Trusted too much, too much his master's guide. 
 His will was law, his prompter's whim and pride. 
 Soft was his silver tongue, by cunning school'd. 
 When he address'd the high-bom man he rul'd ; 
 But when with rustic voice the peasant strove. 
 In pleading tones, his haughty soul to move. 
 Rough as the rock that spurns the murm'ring wave. 
 He drove him thence, and scarce an answer gave. 
 
 To him the discontented, worthless crew. 
 In artful lines the soft petition drew ; 
 Smooth as the trickling balm its language ran. 
 And sweetly pleas'd the lofty-crested man ; 
 In humble guise, " they hoped their greatest friend 
 " Would deign in vrisdom to their prayers attend, 
 " And from the lazy hind those objects take, 
 " Which made him oft his bidden task forsake." 
 
 With soft, Satanic smile, the agent heard. 
 Then to his lord the lying tale preferr'd ; 
 How all untill'd the fields neglected laid, 
 Unhous'd the grain, uncut the ripen'd blade ; 
 The rustic's aid 'twas fruitless to require. 
 Who now was grown too proud to work for hire ; 
 And still at home his spacious garden till'd. 
 Or mow'd or reap'd the produce of his field.
 
 75 
 
 " This loss, my lord, no tenant can sustain, 
 
 " It sinks the profits of the whole domain." 
 
 " Why this complaint to me ?" his lord rephed. 
 
 " Is it in me the stubborn hind to guide ; 
 
 " If he, offending, dare refuse to toil, 
 
 •' His will is free as mine, who own the soil. 
 
 " But be it yours his fault to ascertain, 
 
 " And find some means his needful aid to gain, 
 
 " Why waste my time on trifling cares like these ? 
 
 " They tease, they vex me ; treat them as you please." 
 
 These trifling cares were soon by him forgot. 
 And the poor fell to save his time and thought ; 
 For had he deign'd the worthless plot to scan. 
 Secure had stood the sacred rights of man. 
 Too faithful Memory mourns his careless crime. 
 Who would be good and great, but — wanted time. 
 
 Alas ! how death-like sank the peasant's heart. 
 When forc'd from all his cherish'd hopes to part ! 
 No meadow now, no fruitful garden left. 
 He seem'd a statue, of all sense bereft. 
 How his sad wife, and children round him clung. 
 How flow'd their eyes, and how their hands they wrung. 
 When he, with listless hand, and drooping head, 
 Their priz'd, their darhng cow to market led ! 
 How round her parting steps, all pale and wan, 
 With breaking hearts the Uttle sufF'rers ran ! 
 Hung round her neck, as slowly on she pass'd. 
 And cry'd "farewell!" and wept, and " look'd their last. 
 While the poor beast, to grateful instinct true, 
 Tum'd her rough head, and seem'd to sigh, adieu ! 
 
 Since then, unchanging toil for hard-won bread, 
 While summer pours its blaze upon his head, 
 While angry winter rules the cheerless hour, 
 Has been his lot — the slave of lawless pow'r !
 
 76 
 
 Callous their bosoms with repeated wrong. 
 To work they mov'd, a slow, a sullen throng ; 
 And listless, spent their ev'ning hours of rest, 
 Their bodies wearied, and their minds depress'd. 
 Their children, once at school so trim and neat, 
 Now all in rags, blaspheming, roam'd the street. 
 No more in neatness gay their cots were seen. 
 But stood disgrac'd with dirt, a loathsome scene ; 
 Their walls no more the sluggish inmates dress'd. 
 Whose only solace, only wish was rest ; 
 Or, if their hearts e'er knew a keener bliss. 
 'Twas in the tavern, or at times like this ; 
 For thro' the week with thirst their palates glow'd. 
 While all their beverage fi-om the fountain flow'd. 
 
 Thus o'er their heads successive years had run. 
 And as one ended so the next begun. 
 Like the poor generous horse, grown old or bhnd, 
 By tyrant masters to the mill confin'd ; 
 Who crawls the eternal ring with weary feet. 
 While his worn sides the surly drivers beat ; 
 Till callous grown by still repeated blows, 
 Heedless around the giddy track he goes ; 
 And, while he drags the heavy creaking wheel, 
 His comfort is, the lash he cannot feel, 
 Were they : made callous by the strokes of pride. 
 And haughty scorn, they cast all care aside. 
 Degraded, sunk, no hardships could molest, 
 And still their course they kept, in stupid dulness blest 
 Unless when famine urg'd domestic jars, 
 And contradiction bred repeated wars : 
 Then, while the wordy strife their souls enrag'd. 
 And threats and blows the bitter contest wag'd. 
 With mutual hate they curst the marriage tie. 
 From which, tho' oft impell'd, they durst not fly.
 
 77 
 
 That self respect — those wishes that conspire 
 To raise the heart above each mean desire ; 
 Wishes that ev'n the humblest minds retain. 
 When Hope forsook them, vanish'd in her train. 
 
 Yet still. Oh, Ignorance ! to thee they ow'd 
 One dull resource, from whence some comfort flow'd ! 
 For had the pow'rs of Genius rais'd their mind. 
 Had Learning's haughty lore their hopes refin'd. 
 Pangs more severe their anguish'd hearts had wrung, 
 And louder murmurs trembled from their tongue. 
 
 Such were the guests who long their post maintain'd 
 On the gay green, till drunken madness reign'd ; 
 At length, o'erpower'd, their wand'ring reason fled, 
 And by the fantic hand of riot led, 
 Those reel'd afar ; while these by sleep o'erthrown. 
 In sheds, or on the pavement lay them down ; 
 To early maids a vile indecent sight. 
 As bhthe for toil they cheer'd the rising light ; 
 While those, stretch'd in his path, the shepherd found, 
 As whistling bhthe he trod his morning's round. 
 Enough, at length, of sober sense they gain 
 To join their pence, and act the brute again. 
 Then hying to their huts with stagg'ring feet. 
 Another month's unchanging toil to meet ; 
 From time so lost their children weep for bread. 
 And call down vengeance on their father's head. 
 
 Oh ! would the men that Toil's hard efforts guide, 
 Who o'er the arts of rural life preside ; 
 Friends to the soil, friends to the useful plough. 
 From whom the springs of wise improvement flow, 
 Whether their brows the ducal crown sustain, 
 Or, be they brothers of a humbler train, 
 Deign the unfriended labourer's wrongs to scan, 
 And suffer him to feel he is a man !
 
 78 
 
 So would his soul in conscious worth improve, 
 
 And far the faults that sully life remove ; 
 
 Thus blest by them, his soften'd grateful heart, 
 
 Would seldom from the laws of right depart. 
 
 So with fierce fires his ardent frame would glow, 
 
 To pour its vengeance on th' invading foe ; 
 
 "With tenfold strength would join the gallant band. 
 
 The willing bulwarks of their native land ; 
 
 " Stung with the thoughts of home," would rush to save 
 
 His country's rights, or find a glorious grave. 
 
 Ev'n now, the stamp in early age imprest. 
 
 Is but half worn from his dejected breast; 
 
 For her he glows, but glows with feebler fire. 
 
 Since, crush'd by deeds like this, his rights expire. 
 
 Is there in life's high ranks an active mind. 
 Prompt to fulfil the task by Heav'n assign'd ; 
 Form'd by experience, gentle, just, and wise, 
 To rend the plausive veil from dark disguise ; 
 Who the sly agent's secret deeds inspects. 
 And never the poor tenants' cause neglects ? 
 O bless, ye millions ! bless the gen'rous heart. 
 Which thus stands forward on your friendless part, 
 O bless the man ! if such a man there be ! — 
 Such once there was, and Anna's father he : 
 Wide his domain, and splendid was his style. 
 Yet good his heart, and gentle was his smile. 
 He, where great Albion's senate gives her laws, 
 Was ever foremost in his country's cause : 
 Tho' proudly eminent in wealth he stood, 
 His noble heart priz'd all her children's good. 
 Far from him shrunk, of courts, the venal tribe, 
 Whose hand contemptuous spurn'd the sordid bribe ; 
 For, with the manly scorn of virtue fraught, 
 No foul oppression stain' d his honest thought :
 
 79 
 
 By conscience guided, and with honor blest, 
 
 Truth was the spring that mov'd his inmost breast : 
 
 And strong in reason, as in counsel wise. 
 
 His words — his actions — knew no mean disguise : 
 
 With all the power that wisdom, wealth impart. 
 
 He sped the rise of ev'ry useful art ; 
 
 So fair improvement, cherish'd by his hand, 
 
 Spread, like the dews of Heav'n, to bless the land. 
 
 Just were his agents, and beneath their reign 
 
 Arcadian pleasures seem'd renew'd again. 
 
 From him to honest toil its gains were sure. 
 
 And merit felt no pain that he could cure ; 
 
 But when th' unhallow'd roots of sloth entwin'd 
 
 Their spreading fibres round the listless mind — 
 
 When, sick of effort, sly deceptions guile 
 
 Relax'd the sinews of the child of toil, 
 
 V, ho, pleading deep distress and sorrow, went 
 
 To ask his succour, with a base intent. 
 
 He, with mild words, the graceless suit forbade. 
 
 And paus'd for pity, tho' he would not aid. 
 
 While calm reproof and solemn counsel hung 
 
 Replete with wisdom on his manly tongue, 
 
 Asham'd, the thoughtless beggar left his door. 
 
 In heart rcsolv'd — " to go, and sin no more.'' 
 
 Thus, like the sun, enthron'd in radiance bright. 
 He cheer'd the country round with warmth and light 
 And when at last he sank in evening mild. 
 His wealth and virtues center'd in his child — 
 Now Henry's own — himself from want secure, 
 Crown'd with such blessings — may he bless the poor. 
 
 From long digression Memory speeds her wing. 
 The sports that clos'd the happy day to sing ; 
 Swift to the ball-room trip the female throng. 
 Like angels, spotless, happy, fair, and young ;
 
 80 
 
 Round their light forms celestial graces play, 
 Fair as the queen of smiles, as Hebe gay ; 
 Love's keenest lightnings sparkling from their eyes, 
 Flash to the heart, and conquer by surprize. 
 The ardent youths their beauteous train surround. 
 And trembling gaze, and feel the secret wound. 
 
 O ! if on earth, one glimpse of bliss is seen, 
 One beam of Heav'n to cheer the gloomy scene. 
 As wand'ring thro' this checquer'd vale we move, 
 'Tis the fair female — 'tis the light of love ! 
 
 Thro* the wide dome the sprightly music floats. 
 And Echo brisk returns the lively notes ; 
 Gay. mingled forms, resigning every care. 
 Flit thro' the mazy figure, light as air ; 
 And, as each face the pleasing toil illumes. 
 With added hues the rose of beauty blooms. 
 Good-humour still exalts the dear delight, 
 'Till, all unheeded, breaks the morning light ; 
 Then all retire, long after Anna's charms 
 Had fall'n a treasure to a husband's arms. 
 
 O marriage ! first and best of human laws. 
 Which all that blesses man together draws ; 
 Each joy that sparkles in the cup of life. 
 Brightens and throngs around a virtuous wife : 
 Blest lamp of being ! ever sacred flame ! 
 That giv'st a sister's and a brother's name ! 
 Thine are the bonds which round the state extend, 
 And social life its firmest union lend ; 
 These once imloos'd, the pow'rs of rule would fail. 
 And wide confusion o'er the land prevail. 
 
 Tho' in the splendid dome, where fashion rules. 
 The wife oft wanders, and the husband cools. 
 While all thy fading pleasures feel decay. 
 And dark Adultery speeds its guilty way :
 
 81 
 
 Tho* to the friendless rustic, mix'd with pain, 
 Thy joys give way to Want's and Care's sad train ; 
 Tho' o'er his offspring dark forebodings low'r. 
 And tempt his hopeless heart to curse thy pow'r ; 
 While the foul demons of domestic strife, 
 Fir'd by despair, embitter all his life — 
 There still are minds who all thy influence own. 
 Exalt thy laws, and venerate thy throne : 
 Whether sustain'd by gilded rank they soar. 
 Or raise their humble sheds among the poor. 
 Content within their dwellings spreads her charms. 
 And care or want of every sting disarms ; 
 Bless'd in each other, in their virtues blest. 
 Amid the strife, they have their hours of rest. 
 When cruel foes, with unrelenting hate. 
 Vindictive bar their pass to brighter fate. 
 With savage wrongs their trembling steps pursue. 
 And bent on ruin, still these wrongs renew. 
 They, from those worst of fiends that life annoy. 
 Hide in the bosom of domestic joy. 
 
 So Morning's early minstrel rais'd on high. 
 While sweetly carolling the summer sky. 
 If chance some falcon, on his airy way. 
 Hear the sweet sound, and mark the destin'd prey. 
 Folds close his pinions to his flutt'ring breast. 
 And drops afiiighted on his secret nest ! 
 There, safe from harm, where happiness resides. 
 The tale of danger with his mate divides. 
 Whose soft endearments bid his sorrows cease. 
 And fondly luU his throbbing heart to peace. 
 
 Tho' for her fav'rites Fortune's partial hand 
 May crown all hope, and answer each demand. 
 While from the wise and good she frequent flies. 
 Unkind, unjust, their ev'ry wish denies. 
 Tho' round their heads her angry tempests low'r. 
 They have their homefelt bliss, and happy hour.
 
 
 ANNA MOREE. 
 
 .*io< 
 
 Sole joy of her father was Anna Moree, 
 In the house by yon oak they did dwell ; 
 
 To the maids of the hamlet a pattern was she. 
 And none could sweet Anna excel. 
 
 AH pure as the daisy that silvers the plains. 
 
 Her bosom had never felt woe, 
 Till Edwin, her Edwin, the bravest of swains. 
 
 To fight for old England did go. 
 
 But Hope, soothing Hope, yet her spirits upbore. 
 
 By whisp'ring his speedy return ; 
 Then, alas ! came the tidings, " Thy Edwin's no more. 
 
 The friend of his country is gone." 
 
 Thus of all her fond wishes so sadly bereft. 
 What prospect to cheer could she see ? 
 
 On God, and the parent whom fate still had left, 
 Lean'd the heart of poor Anna Moree.
 
 83 
 
 But, no more — oh ! no more, at the sports on the plain, 
 
 When the maidens assembled, was she ; 
 Of her father to sooth aU the cares and the pain 
 
 Was the task of sweet Anna Moree. 
 
 Resign'd to misfortune she liv'd — but how keen 
 
 Where her trials in future to be ! 
 What eye, my companions, but weeps o'er the scene 
 
 Of the sorrows of Anna Moree ? 
 
 Now rebellion successful, inflam'd all the shore, 
 
 But how cruel a rebel was he 
 Who slew, and from heart-broken innocence tore 
 
 The father of Anna Moree. 
 
 Of her friend and her father bereft, far away 
 
 Tho' the war- wasted vaUey fled she ; 
 And there, to the lust of the Indian a prey. 
 
 Fell the honor of Anna Moree. 
 
 Now home to the grave of her father she turn'd. 
 
 How piteous to hear her wild moan ! 
 As with garlands and rushes she strew'd it and mourn'd, 
 
 For, alas ! Anna's reason was gone ! 
 
 When their influence so scorching the summer beams shed. 
 
 She wanders unshelter'd along : 
 When the winds of the winter blow keen round her head. 
 
 She mocks them in sorrowful song. 
 
 Ah, cease, gentle maiden ! no longer complain ! 
 
 Let thy soul receive comfort from me ; 
 A Father in H eaven will sooth all thy pain. 
 
 And will yet bless his Anna Moree.
 
 MARIA. 
 
 Maria was the fairest maid 
 
 That tripp'd on Welland's flow'ry side. 
 Who all her sex's charms display' d 
 
 Without her sex's scorn and pride. 
 
 Not May's first morn with lovelier hues 
 Spreads to the sun the blossom'd field. 
 
 Not summer's rosy scented dews 
 
 More sweet and grateful odours yield. 
 
 Than deck'd and grac'd this loveliest flow'r 
 That ever bloom'd upon the plain. 
 
 Whose virgin mind, as hiies pure. 
 Was mUdly gay, without a stain. 
 
 Wilham, who seem'd to bear a mind 
 Alive to truth, the maiden lov'd ; 
 
 And her fond parents, just, and kind, 
 heir mutual wish, their flame approv'd. 
 
 Her virtues all the vale admir'd, 
 Who on the poor and aged smil'd ; 
 
 'Till fate to wring her heart conspir'd. 
 And her of peace and hope beguil'd.
 
 85 
 
 Misfortunes frown'd — her parents fell 
 Their prey, and two dear children left ; 
 
 Whose only friend, most hard to tell. 
 Was she, who were so young bereft. 
 
 For them, each Uve-long day she toil'd. 
 
 And mourn'd with tears their hapless doom ; 
 
 While heart-felt care her mind despoil'd. 
 And sorrow " wither'd all her bloom." 
 
 Yet still would Hope, with flatt'ring tongue. 
 
 Bid every care and sorrow rest. 
 Whene'er the thoughts of love were strong, 
 
 The love that warm'd her Wilham's breast. 
 
 But she, the destin'd child of woe. 
 Decreed to bear its bitterest part. 
 
 Beheld her William prove untrue. 
 
 Which broke her fond and faithful heart. 
 
 Down to the church I saw her borne. 
 Amidst, of friends, a weeping throng ; 
 
 Her Uttle sisters, now forlorn 
 
 And friendless, follow'd her along. 
 
 Repos'd for ever in the tomb, 
 
 Maria lies, in peaceful sleep. 
 While flowers of sweetest vernal bloom. 
 
 Droop o'er her clay their heads and weep. 
 
 And still the passing maidens mourn 
 
 The lovely victim's fate severe. 
 And sigh, while weeping o'er her urn 
 
 " The sacrifice of Grief lies here !"
 
 TRANSLATIONS. 
 
 HORACE. ODE I.— BOOK I. 
 
 TO M(ECENAS. 
 
 Descended from Etrurian kings, 
 
 Source whence my life's whole comfort springs, 
 
 Moecenas, dear to fame ; 
 Some covet in the ring to shine. 
 Where swift contending chariots join, 
 
 To raise themselves a name. 
 
 They, while the sounding axles burn, 
 Tlie narrow goal well-skill'd to turn. 
 
 Obtain the victor's prize : 
 And soaring high above the scene 
 Of low-bom pride, and httle men. 
 
 In fancy tread the skies. 
 
 Some rais'd by clamours, long and loud, 
 Of the misjudging fickle crowd. 
 
 Fame's giddy heights explore : 
 "While others, from their Lybian fields 
 Have gather'd all fair Ceres yields. 
 
 And laugh amidst their store.
 
 87 
 
 A few, well pleas'd the plough to guide, 
 Lords of the rural haunt preside. 
 
 Contented in the vale : 
 Whose steady purpose to remove. 
 And lure them from the scenes they love, 
 
 Your efforts all would fail. 
 
 Ev'n tempt them with the wealth of kings. 
 And all the glory empire brings. 
 
 To change their simple state : 
 They would not leave the bliss of rest 
 For all the gaudy joys possest. 
 
 Or suffer d by the great. 
 
 When Auster swells th' Icarian wave, 
 Anxious his treasur'd stores to save. 
 
 The merchant aw'd retires ; 
 Of woods and groves extols the charms, 
 While safely shelter'd in their arms, 
 
 Sweet peace his soul inspires : 
 
 But when the angry deeps no more 
 Scourg'd by the southern tempests roar. 
 
 Of pining want afraid : 
 He trims his shatter'd ships again ; 
 Braves without fear the faithless main. 
 
 And plies his doubtful trade. 
 
 Inflam'd with old Campanian wine. 
 Behold the rosy toper shine 
 
 King of the reeling throng ; 
 Who, basking in the rural shade. 
 Or near a fountain's sacred head. 
 
 Lies idly stretch'd along.
 
 88 
 
 The direful sound of war's alarm's. 
 That when loud trumpets call to arms. 
 
 Awakes the mother's sigh ; 
 Is music in the soldier's ear, 
 Who grasps with joy the glittering spear. 
 
 And nobly dares to die. 
 
 When, bursting thro' the well- wrought toils, 
 The Marsyan boar his hunters foils ; 
 
 Or when the timid hind. 
 By the staunch hound pursued, in view. 
 With swift foot skims the tainted dew. 
 
 And leaves his foes behind ; 
 
 Arous'd, and starting from his side, 
 The huntsman leaves his youthful bride 
 
 Neglected to complain ; 
 Deaf to the murmuring voice of love. 
 Thro' the cold blast he joys to rove. 
 
 And scours the scented plain. 
 
 These seek, by humble means, renown : 
 But round your brows the ivy crown, 
 
 By hands immortal wove — 
 Meed only of the leam'd and wise. 
 Blooms, and exalts you to the skies. 
 
 Great as the gods above. 
 
 Me the cool grot and whispering grove. 
 Haunts that the fauns and dryads love. 
 
 Hide from the village throng ; 
 Whilst tripping nymphs, with dulcet voice. 
 Around the sylvan scene rejoice. 
 
 And cheer me with their song.
 
 89 
 
 And should th* immortal maids conspire 
 To tune with me the Lesbian lyre ; 
 
 And teach, with lips divine. 
 The flute to swell with notes of love. 
 And strains that sweet compassion move, 
 
 What extacy were mine ! 
 
 But oh ! if you, if you, shall own 
 My song deserves the Ijric crown. 
 
 Then shall my haughty soul, 
 Fired with your praise, ascend on high ; 
 My fame shall strike the starry sky. 
 
 And sound from pole to pole. 
 
 HORACE. ODE II. 
 
 TO AUGUSTUS C^SAR. 
 
 JovB, of the gods almighty sire. 
 Who rides upon the fearful blast. 
 With ratthng hail and tempest dire. 
 Has o'er the world in terror past. 
 Borne by the whirwind's wing on high. 
 He tower'd in dreadful majesty. 
 And horror fill'd the blacken'd air ; 
 While pallid fear, and fell despair. 
 Each heart with coward dread inspire. 
 His right hand flaming with resistless fire. 
 Hurls domes and sacred temples to the ground. 
 And Rome with crashing ruins spreads around.
 
 90 
 
 Far distant lands appall'd with fear. 
 Shrink, while th' eternal thunders roll, 
 Lest those o'crwhelming floods appear 
 That once dissolv'd the steadfast pole : 
 When Pyrrha o'er the boundless tide 
 Beheld strange monsters ride : 
 On the high elms, once safe retreat 
 Of doves, when angry waters beat ; 
 And wond'ring fishes harbour'd there : 
 While o'er the mountains, rising in mid air. 
 The lofty billows form'd a rolling plain. 
 And swept the timid doe affrighted to the main 
 
 Ev'n we the yellow Tiber saw 
 Vindictive raise his haughty wave ; 
 Of kings and gods no more in awe. 
 Against their tombs and temples rave. 
 Impell'd against the Tuscan shore. 
 We heard his wild waves roar. 
 Th' uxorious god to Ilia boasts 
 To ravage all his peopled coasts ; 
 Opposing Jove's eternal laws. 
 Vows to revenge the murder'd Caesar's cause : 
 Then while around the floating fury pours, 
 From every teeming urn a deluge showers. 
 
 Diminish'd by their father's crimes. 
 Our youth, a future age shall tell. 
 
 Of civil jars that curs'd the times. 
 When Romans oft by Romans fell ; 
 
 While Persian slaves forgot to fly. 
 Ye guardians of the sky ! 
 
 Oh, which of all shall we implore 
 
 In this our sad deserted hour .-'
 
 91 
 
 Thou sacred Vesta, with what prayer 
 Can thy pure virgins hope to reach thine ear ? 
 Who, by the fiat of Heaven's awful lord. 
 This crime to expiate, bears the vengeful sword ? 
 
 Oh, thou ! with sacred prescience blest, 
 Apollo, clad in white, descend ; 
 Come in a robe of glory drest ; 
 Or you gay, laughing fair attend. 
 Around whose step the graces fly. 
 And mirth, and roseate joy : 
 Or you, whom clashing hosts delight. 
 The battle's rage, the bloody fight, 
 Tir'd of home broils, my country's shame, 
 Mars, mighty founder of the Roman name, 
 ph ! view your kindred with a father's eye. 
 And, pitymg, spare your lost posterity. 
 
 Or you, wing'd son of bounteous May, 
 In Csesar's likeness, young and wise. 
 
 Long with your Rome, rejoicing stay. 
 Nor seek again your natal skies. 
 
 Let no swift gale, thro' fields of air. 
 
 To Heav'n our guardian bear. 
 
 If we have err'd, let Julius slain. 
 
 Asking revenge, your flight restrain. 
 
 Revenge his blood, while Romans sing, 
 Th' immortal triumphs of their patriot king. 
 So shall the Medes at large no longer tide, 
 Uncheck'd by Csesar, Rome's imperial guide.
 
 92 
 
 HORACE. ODE III.— BOOK li. 
 
 TO DELLTUS. 
 
 Dellius, my friend, whose final hour. 
 Impell'd by Time's incessant power. 
 
 Must soon arrest thy course ; 
 Whether adversity thy hfe annoy. 
 Or wealth exalt thy bounding heart with joy. 
 Stand calmly firm, nor yield to either's force. 
 
 But, cherish stUl an equal mind. 
 In pain and bliss alike resign'd. 
 
 Which keeps the unvarying mean ; 
 For, whether worn by penury or care, 
 Scorn'd by the world, and harass'd by despair. 
 
 You act your mournful part in life's sad scene ; 
 
 Or with your friends, a jocund throng. 
 Listless the green tm-f thrown along. 
 
 Where pines and poplars wave : 
 Where gentle rills iu soothing sighs repine 
 Idly you quaff the rich Falernian wine 
 
 These gusts of grief or joy must settle in the grave. 
 
 Be jovial then, and fill more wine : 
 Let odours with the rose combine. 
 
 To charm the passing hour : 
 While the relentless three to strike delay, 
 While time and circumstance permit, be gay. 
 
 And catch the fleetbg joy while in your power.
 
 93 
 
 Your villa, wash'd by Thames's tide. 
 Your costly groves, so late your pride. 
 
 Too surely you must leave. 
 Your heaps of wealth, long piled with painful toil. 
 Another's lavish hand will quickly spoil, 
 
 And thousands may the radiant dust receive. 
 
 Whether of Howard's noble Hne, 
 While gold the haughty lineage join. 
 
 To make him great and high ; 
 Or from a cottage sprung, and humbly poor, 
 Man not a moment rests on earth secure ; 
 
 Slave of disease and pain, his business here's to die. 
 
 Th' unchangeable decree is past. 
 Each instant nearer brings our last, 
 
 ■^tUl moves th' unwearied urn ; 
 Soon will the fatal lot that marks our doom 
 Appear, and point us to the dreary tomb. 
 
 To scenes of hght and joy, O, never to return !
 
 04 
 
 HORACE. ODE VII.— BOOK III. 
 
 TO ASTBRIE. 
 
 Why, fond Asterie, why your lover mourn. 
 
 Whom true to thee sweet spring will soon restore ? 
 
 Soon will thy bosom throb at his return, 
 
 Enrich'd with gems, and India's ghttering ore. 
 
 He, (the wan goat-stars set in chilling dew,) 
 Driv'n by the triumphs of the southern blast. 
 
 Thro' the cold lonely night stiU weeps for you. 
 On far Oricum's shores imhappy cast. 
 
 And there some false and cunning missive tells 
 How his kind hostess suffering Chloe sighs. 
 
 How fondly fix'd on him her sad heart dwells, ' 
 While with a flame like thine she burns and dies. 
 
 Tells how the Argive queen of love deny'd, 
 Falsely to death BeUerophon accus'd : 
 
 How Peleus, lov'd too, by a royal bride, 
 Like him disdainful, was like him abused. 
 
 From Time's old records each alluring tale, 
 To tempt his mind with soft insidious tongue 
 
 She culls ; but, deaf as rocks that brave the gale, 
 Unstain'd and pure he hears the syren song. 
 
 Then guard thy mind against the gay, and young. 
 And fond Enipeus tho' in arms renown d ; 
 
 And, should in silent night his aitful tongue 
 
 Breathe on thine ear the flute's complaining sound.
 
 95 
 
 Retire : — nor cast one lingering look abroad ! 
 
 Ev'n tho' with cruel scorn he tax your heart, 
 Fix'd as you ai*e in Honor's perfect road — 
 
 Oh, never from the beauteous path depart. 
 
 HORACE. ODE XL— BOOK I. 
 
 Dearest Leuconoe dismiss thy cares, 
 
 Nor bend thine anxious mind on future years ; 
 
 Whj^t term of Ufe the gods to me have given. 
 
 Or what to thee, ask not of awful Heaven. 
 
 'Tis wrong the Babylonian arts to try 
 
 That dare unfold the secrets of the sky ; 
 
 With patient heart 'tis better to endure 
 
 Ills, which, tho' we may mourn, we cannot cure. 
 
 Whether more winters in perspective glide, 
 
 Or this the last that breaks the Tyrrhene tide. 
 
 Be wise and drink — the present hour enjoy. 
 
 Nor on the morrow Hope or Fear employ : 
 
 Envious, e'en while we speak. Time flies away, 
 
 Catch then the sacred Now, nor trust another day.
 
 96 
 
 The Latin of the following Epitaph, which, for pathetic 
 simplicity has seldom been equalled, was copied from 
 the Universal Magazine (new series) the number I 
 forget. 
 
 Elizabeths vale ! mea lux, mea vita quosque 
 Jungitur in Coelis, filia chara, vale ! 
 
 TRANSLATION. 
 
 Elizabeth, farewell ! till call'd away 
 
 To join thee in the realms of endless day. 
 
 What woes my fond, my aching heart will ewell — 
 
 My hght — my life — my daughter — oh, farewell ! 
 
 PECK, PRINTER, LOWGATB, HULL,
 
 THE MANIAC: 
 
 A POEM. 
 
 BY THOMAS ROBINSON. 
 
 B 
 
 EH OLD yon poor creature that roams thro' the common, 
 So torn by the briar and drench'd by the rain ! 
 He seems all bewilder'd, and car'd for by no one. 
 Now franticly laughing, now groaning with pain. 
 
 His head is exposed to the blast keenly blowing ; 
 
 His feet to the thorn and the thistle are bare : 
 Of the thorn and the thistle unheeding, unknowing, 
 
 Distracted he roams iu the cold piercing air. 
 
 Sav, has he no father, no brothers who love him. 
 
 Who hear and who pity the wanderer's moan ? 
 No mother, no sister, no friend to remove him 
 
 From the bleak wintry waste where he wanders alone r 
 
 Yes, he has a father and brothers who love him. 
 His sisters for his sake shed many a tear ; 
 
 From the bleak wintry waste they do always remove him. 
 But still he will fly from relations so dear.
 
 He's a heart-broken maniac— grief and misfortune 
 His innocent hopes and his wishes o'erthrew ; 
 
 All scenes of past pleasure by him are forgotten, 
 And madly he ponders on woes ever new. 
 
 Tho' pale was the sunbeam that shone on his morning, 
 Atid feeble the blessing that reason bestow'd : 
 
 Yet Hope with her blossoms the prospect adorning. 
 By innocence led, gave a charm to his road. 
 
 ]Jv vonder thick alders a neat cottaare rises, 
 
 There once the poor soul with his parents did dwell ; 
 
 Each comfort was theirs which the feeling heart prizes, 
 Each comfort, alas ! which he lov'd but too well. 
 
 Adversity sometimes look'd into their dwelling ; 
 
 Very hard through the summer and winter they toil'd ; 
 But o'er want and o'er weariness calmly prevailing. 
 
 Contentment and health on the cottagers smiled. 
 
 *£)^ 
 
 With the fair star of morning he rose to his labours, 
 
 All cherrily whistling, his task to pursue : 
 As the dove he was gentle, and kind to his neighbours. 
 
 And his eye with a tear would their sorrows bedew. 
 
 Twas his heart's dearest wish, when old age, slowly creeping, 
 Had scatter'd its snows on the head of his sire. 
 
 When his nerves were unstrung, from the hard parish keeping, 
 He safe in that cottage to rest would retire : 
 
 Where he, the loved path of his duty pursuing. 
 
 Most happy his parent's decline to assuage. 
 Their daily support with his labours renewing, 
 
 Hoped fondly to foster the pillow of age.
 
 315 
 
 Thus time sped away, till their cottage was wanted. 
 And the ground they possess'd on another bestow'd : 
 
 'Twas little indeed, yet that little was granted 
 To swell the increase of the rich and the proud. 
 
 One May's lovely morning, the dogs of oppression, 
 When the spring gay advancing, humanity cheers. 
 
 Bereft them of all ! ! — for the fiend-like transgression 
 May the curse of the maniac still ring in their ears ! 
 
 Resistance was fruitless \ their house they surrender'd. 
 Their sweet little meadow and garden so trim, 
 
 And the spark of his God with the shock darkly wander 'd — 
 Tho' gaily the sun shone, it shone not for him. 
 
 Now in Night's deepest hour, when the village is sleeping, 
 
 Or shrinking at thunder that peals in the air ; 
 fif the gleams of the lightning, now laughing, now weeping, 
 < ^ ''He fles from his home overwhelm'd with despair. 
 
 On yonder lone waste, while the tempest is roaring, 
 Where the wind sighs so hollow the rushes among ; 
 
 Forlorn, at the foot of the blasted thorn cow'ring. 
 The tale of his woes he will sadly prolong. 
 
 Great Power ! of all beings the best and the wisest. 
 Oh ! suffer no longer thy creature to roam ; 
 
 Thy light, to a spirit that surely thou prizest. 
 Restore, or soon waft it away to its home. 
 
 Then, low in the grave, where his mother is sleeping. 
 The turf shall grow green on his innocent l)reast ; 
 
 His brain no more frenaied, his eyes no more weeping, 
 Escap'd from oppression he sweetly shall rest.
 
 310 
 
 TO 
 
 MR. CHARLES MARCUARD, R. A. S, 
 
 ON ins PAINTING THE PORTRAIT OF MRS. ****, 
 
 Marcuard, while painting Stella's charms divine. 
 What finish'd graces from thy pencil shine ! 
 \Vhcie no rude touch the faithful semhlance hrcaks 
 The lip that fascinates — the eye that speaks ! 
 So the clear stream, in summer's lovlicst hour. 
 Shews, as it glides, its truth reflecting power, 
 As calmlv on the crystal mirror flows. 
 Another Heav'n upon its bosom glows. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 Peck, Printer, Lowgate, Hull.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
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