THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 FREDERIC THOMAS BLANCHARD 
 ENDOWMENT FUND
 
 POEMS, 
 
 BY 
 
 ANNA SEWARD. 
 
 PRICE THR SHILLINGS.
 
 CnimU
 
 LLANGOLLEN VALE, 
 
 WITH 
 
 OTHER POEMS : 
 
 BY 
 
 ANNA SEWARD. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR G. SAEL, NO. 192, STRAND. 
 1 79 (S.
 
 m 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 Sn JUL 
 
 DEVA, when next my vagrant fteps explore 
 The haunts romantic, where thy filver ftreams, 
 On which the garifh Sun but feldom gleams, 
 Fill with their wild and fancy-foothing roar, 
 
 LLANGOLLEN'S verdant ftraights, and mountains hoar, 
 How fhall I dwell enraptur'd on the themes, 
 That now th' immortal MUSE of Britain deems 
 Worthy her facred fcroll, unmark'd before ! 
 
 The Steeds whofe fetlocks fwam in blood, the hoft 
 Of GLENDOUR, claiming Valour's brighteft meed, 
 HOEL'S love-breathing harp, and lays divine, 
 
 And the fair WANDERERS from lerne's coaft, 
 
 Who, to fond Friendfhip's gentle power decreed, 
 Rear in thy hallow'd Vale the fimple fhrine. 
 
 H. F. GARY. 
 
 CANNOCK, December, 1795. 
 
 959412
 
 LLANGOLLEN VALE, 
 
 INSCRIBED TO 
 
 THE RIGHT HONORABLE 
 
 LADY ELEANOR BUTLER, 
 
 AND 
 
 MISS PONSONBY. 
 
 LUXURIANT Vale, thy Country's early boaft, 
 What time great GLENDOUR gave thyfcenes to Fame; 
 
 Taught the proud numbers of the Englifh Hoft, 
 
 How vain their vaunted force, when Freedom's flame 
 
 Fir'd him to brave the Myriads he abhorr'd, 
 
 Wing'd his unerring fhaft, and edg'd his vi&or fword. 
 
 Here firft thofe orbs unclofing drank the light, 
 Cambria's bright ftars, the meteors of her Foes; 
 
 What dread and dubious omens* mark'd the night, 
 That lour'd, ere yet his natal morn arofe ! 
 
 The Steeds paternal, on their cavern'd floor, 
 
 Foaming, and horror-ftruck, " fret fetlock-deep in gore." 
 
 * Omens. According to the records of Lewis Owen, the year 1349 was dif- 
 unguifhed by the firft appearance of the PESTILENCE in Wales, and by the birth 
 of OWEN GLENDOUR. Hollingfhed relates the marvellous tale of his Father's 
 
 B
 
 PLAGUE, in her livid hand, o'er all the Ifle, 
 Shook her dark flag, impure with fetid flams ; 
 
 While " DEATH*, on his pale Horfe," with baleful fmile, 
 Smote with its blafting hoof the frighted plains. 
 
 Soon thro' the grafs-grown ftreets, in filence led, 
 
 Slow moves the midnight Cart, heapt with the naked Dead. 
 
 Yet in the feftal dawn of Richard's f reign, 
 
 Thy gallant GLENDOUR'S funny prime arofe; 
 Virtuous, tho' gay, in that Circean fane, 
 
 Bright Science twin'd her circlet round his brows ; 
 Nor cou'd the youthful, rafh, luxurious King 
 DifTolve the Hero's worth on his Icarian wing. 
 
 aVic /i i-oj:!/ *b.l D f ^L>^ LriMi c-tlwD: ftf.' vmiu J 
 Sudden it drops on its meridian flight ! 
 
 Ah! haplefs Richard ! never didflthou aim 
 To cruih primeval Britons with thy might, 
 
 And their brave Glendour's tears embalm thy name. 
 Back from thy victor-Rival's vaunting Throng, 
 Sorrowing, and ftern, he finks LLANGOLLEN'S fhades among. 
 - :i jolJ si 3 -"/A ** <i;nn 1 1 ; ;vl 
 
 Horfes, being found that night in their ftables, Handing up to the middle in blood. 
 The Bard, IOLO GOCH, mentions a Comet, which marked the great deeds of Glen- 
 dour, when he was in the meridian of his glory. See Mr. PENNANT'S TOUR. 
 
 * Ifaiah. t Richard the Second.
 
 ( 3 ) 
 
 Soon, in imperious Henry's* dazzled eyes, 
 The guardian bounds of jufl Dominion melt ; 
 
 His fcarce-hop'd crown imperfect blifs fupplies, 
 Till Cambria's vaflalage be deeply felt. 
 
 Now up her craggy fteeps, in long array, 
 
 Swarm his exulting Bands, impatient for the fray. 
 
 Lo ! thro' the gloomy night, with angry blaze, 
 Trails the fierce Comet, and alarms the Stars ; 
 
 Each waning Orb withdraws its glancing rays, 
 Save the red Planet, that delights in wars. 
 
 Then, with broad eyes upturn'd, and ftarting hair, 
 
 Gaze the aftonifti'd Crowd upon its vengeful glare. 
 
 Gleams the wan Morn, and thro' LLANGOLLEN'S Vale 
 Sees the proud Armies flreaming o'er her meads. 
 
 Her frighted Echos warning founds afiail, 
 Loud, in the rattling cars, the neighing fteeds ; 
 
 The doubling drums, the trumpet's piercing breath, 
 
 And all the enfigns dread of havoc, wounds, and death. 
 
 * Henry the Fourth.
 
 ( 4 ) 
 
 High on a hill as fhrinking CAMBRIA flood, 
 And watch'd the onfet of th' unequal fray, 
 
 She faw her Deva, ftain'd with warrior-blood, 
 Lave the pale rocks, and wind its fateful way 
 
 Thro' meads, and glens, and wild woods, echoing far 
 
 The din of clafhing arms, and furious fhout of war. 
 
 From rock to rock, with loud acclaim, fhe fprung, 
 While from her CHIEF the routed Legions fled; 
 
 Saw Deva roll their flaughter'd heaps among, 
 The check'd waves eddying round the ghaftly dead ; 
 
 Saw, in that hour, her own LLANGOLLEN claim 
 
 Thermopylae's bright wreath, and aye-enduring fame. 
 
 Thus, confecrate to GLORY. Then arofe 
 
 A milder luftre in its blooming maze ; 
 Thro' the green glens, where lucid Deva flows, 
 
 Rapt Cambria liflens with enthufiaft gaze, 
 While more inchanting founds her ear aflail, 
 Than thrill'd on Sorga's bank, the Love-devoted Vale.* 
 
 * Vaudufe, the celebrated Valley near Avignon, in which Petrarch corapofed his 
 beautiful Sonnets to Laura.
 
 ( 5 ) 
 
 'Mid the gay towers on deep Din's* Branna's cone, 
 Her HOEL'S breaft the fair MIFANWY fires. 
 
 O ! Harp of Cambria, never haft thou known 
 Notes more mellifluent floating o'er the wires, 
 
 Than when thy Bard this brighter Laura fung, 
 
 And with his ill-ftarr'd love LLANGOLLEN'S echos rung. 
 
 Tho' Genius, Love, and Truth infpire the drains, 
 Thro' Hoel's veins, tho' blood illuftrious flows, 
 
 Hard as th' Eglwyfeg rocks -j- her heart remains, 
 Her fmile a fun-beam playing on their fnows ; 
 
 And nought avails the Poet's warbled claim, 
 
 But, by his well-fung woes, to purchafe deathlefs fame. 
 
 * In 1390, Caftel Dinas-BrSn, now a bare ruin, was inhabited by the lovely 
 Lady MIFANWY VECHAN, of the Houfe of Tudor Trevor. She was beloved by 
 the Bard HOEL. See MR. PENNANT'S TOUR, adorned by a pleafing tranflation, in 
 Englifh verfe, of one of Hoel's Poems in her praife, and complaining of her cold- 
 nefs. The ruins of Caftel Dinas-Bran, are on a conoid mountain of laborious ac- 
 cefs. It rifes in the midft of Llangollen Valley. 
 
 t Eglwyfeg rocks. Rocks of the Eagles. They areoppofite Caftel Dinas-Bran. 
 The Rev. Mr. Roberts of Dinbren aflerts, that the word Eglwyfeg, has that inter- 
 pretation. Mr. PENNANT derives it from the name of a Gentleman, to whofe 
 memory the neighbouring column was erefted; though, in another part of his 
 Tour, he mentions Leland's teftimony, that a pair of Eagles built annually in the 
 Eglwyfeg rocks, and that a perfon was let down in a bafket' to take the young, 
 with another bafket over his head, to protect him from the fury of the parent-birds. 
 This tradition favors Mr. Roberts' etymology. That Gentleman has lately added 
 largely to his paternal houfe, fituated on a noble mountain in Llangollen Valley. The
 
 (6 ) 
 
 Thus confecrate to LOVE, in ages flown, 
 Long ages fled Din's-Branna's ruins fhow, 
 
 Bleak as they ftand upon their fteepy cone, 
 The crown and contraft of the VALE below, 
 
 That, fcreen'd by mural rocks, with pride difplays 
 
 Beauty's romantic pomp in every fylvan maze. 
 
 Now with a Veftal luftre glows the VALE, 
 Thine, facred FRIENDSHIP, permanent as pure ; 
 
 In vain the flern Authorities aflail, 
 In vain Perfuafion fpreads her filken lure, 
 
 High-born, and high-endow'd, the peerlefs Twain*, 
 
 Pant for coy Nature's charms 'mid filent dale, and plain. 
 
 houfe flands near its craggy fummit, and looks as if it had been fcooped out of the 
 rocks. A very narrow Valley, containing two floping copfes, and a few bright lit- 
 tle fields, with a woody lane winding between them, divides Mr. Roberts' mountain 
 from the oppofite elevation of Caftel Dinas-Bran. The fouth-eaft front of the 
 houfe looks immediately into this narrow Valley ; the barren, and very fingular 
 Eglwyfeg rocks on the left, and Caftel Dinas-Bran in front. Between the bafe 
 of the latter, and the floping foot of his own mountain, Mr. R. has the bird's-eye 
 profpeft of Llangollen Town, and a part of the Vale. The Author of this Poem, 
 is indebted to the friendly hofpitality of MR. an4 MRS. ROBERTS, for an opportu- 
 nity (during a fortnight's refidence with them laft Summer) of contemplating the 
 beauties of their own fcene, and of the celebrated VALLEY of LLANGOLLEN. 
 
 * Peerlefs Twain. RIGHT HONORABLE LADY ELEANOR BUTLER, and Miss 
 PONSONBY, now feventeen years refidentin Llangollen Vale, and whofe Gueil the 
 Author had the honor to be during feveral delightful days of the late Summer.
 
 ( 7 ) 
 
 Thro' ELEANORA, and her ZARA'S mind, 
 
 Early tho' genius, tafte, and fancy flow'd, 
 Tho' all the graceful Arts their powers combin'd, 
 
 And her laft polifh brilliant Life beftow'd, 
 The lavifh Promifer, in Youth's fort morn, [fcorn. 
 
 Pride, Pomp, and Love, her friends, the fweet Enthufiafts 
 
 Then rofe the Fairy Palace of the Vale, 
 
 Then bloom'd around it the Arcadian bowers ; 
 
 Screened from the norms' of Winter, cold and pale, 
 Screened from the fervors of the fultry hours, 
 
 Circling the lawny crefcent, foon they rofe, 
 
 To letter' d eafe devote, and Friendship's bleft repofe. 
 
 Smiling they rofe beneath the plaftic hand 
 
 Of Energy, and Tafte ; nor only they, 
 Obedient Science hears the mild command, 
 
 Brings every gift that fpeeds the tardy day, 
 Whate'er the pencil fheds in vivid hues, 
 Th' hiftoric tome reveals, or fmgs the raptur'd Mufe.
 
 ( 8 ) 
 
 How fvveet to enter, at the twilight grey, 
 The dear, minute Lyceum* of the Dome, 
 
 When, thro' the coloured cryftal, glares the ray, 
 Sanguine and folemn 'mid the gathering gloom, 
 
 While glow-worm lamps diffufe a pale, green light, 
 
 Such as in mofly lanes illume the ftarlefs night. 
 
 Then the coy Scene, by deep'ning veils o'erdrawn, 
 In fhadowy elegance feems lovelier ftill; 
 
 Tall fhrubs, that fkirt the femi-lunar lawn, 
 Dark woods, that curtain the oppofmg hill ; 
 
 While o'er their brows the bare cliff faintly gleams, 
 
 And, from its paly edge, the evening-diamond -J- ftreams, 
 
 * Lyceum, the Library, fitted up in the Gothic tafte, the painted windows of 
 that form. In the elliptic arch of the door, there is a prifmatic lantern of varioufly 
 tinted glafs, containing two large lamps with their refleftors. The light they med 
 refembles that of a Volcano, gloomily glaring. Oppofite, on the chimney-piece, 
 a couple of fmall lamps, in marble refervoirs, aflift the prifmatic lantern to fupply 
 the place of candles, by a light more confonant to the ftyle of the apartment, the 
 pi&ures it contains of abfent Friends, and to its aerial mufic. 
 
 + Evening- Star.
 
 ( 9 ) 
 
 What drains JEoYian thrill the dufk expanfe, 
 
 As rifmg gales with gentle murmurs play, 
 Wake the loud chords, or every fenfe intrance, 
 
 While in fubfiding winds they fink away ! 
 Like diftant choirs, " when pealing organs blow," 
 And melting voices blend, majeftically flow. 
 
 " *But, ah ! what hand can touch the firings fo fine, 
 
 " Who up the lofty diapafon roll 
 " Such fweet, fuch fad,fuch folemn airs divine, 
 
 " Then let them down again into the foul !" 
 The prouder fex as foon, with virtue calm, [palm. 
 
 Might win from this bright Pair pure Friendlhip's fpotlefs 
 
 What boafts Tradition, what th' hiftoric Theme, 
 
 Stands it in all their chronicles confeft 
 Where the foul's glory fhines with clearer beam, 
 
 Than in our fea-zon'd bulwark of the Weft, 
 When, in this Cambrian Valley, Virtue fhows 
 Where, in her own fort fex, its fteadieft luftre glows ? 
 
 * Thefe lines with inverted commas, are from Thomfon's Cafl.le. of Indolence.
 
 Say ivied VALLE CRUCIS*, time decay'd, 
 
 Dim on the brink of Deva's wandering floods, 
 
 Your riv'd arch glimmering thro' the tangled glade, 
 Your grey hills towering o'er your night of woods, 
 
 Deep in the Vale's recefles as you ftand, 
 
 And, defolately great, the rifing figh command, 
 
 Say, lonely, ruin'd Pile, when former years 
 Saw your pale Train at midnight altars bow ; 
 
 Saw SUPERSTITION frown upon the tears 
 That mourn'd the rafh irrevocable vow, 
 
 Wore one young lip gay ELEANORA'S fmile ? 
 
 Did ZARA'S look ferene one tedious hour beguile r 
 
 For your fad Sons, nor Science wak'd her powers ; 
 
 Nor e'er did Art her lively fpells difplay ; ' 
 But the grim looLf vainly lafti'd the hours 
 
 That dragg'd the mute, and melancholy day ; 
 Dropt her dark cowl on each devoted head, 
 That o'er the breathing Corfe a pall eternal fpread. 
 
 * The piaurefque Ruins of Valle Crucis Abbey, one of the raoft ftriking objefts 
 in this Valley. They are particularly defcribed by Mr. PENNANT, and there are 
 engravings of them in his Tour. 
 
 t Superflition.
 
 This gentle Pair no glooms of thought infeft, 
 
 Nor Bigotry, nor Envy's fullen gleam 
 Shed withering influence on the effort bleft, 
 
 Which moft fhou'd win the other's dear efteem, 
 By added knowledge, by endowment high, 
 By Charity's warm boon, and Pity's foothing figh. 
 
 Then how fliou'd Summer-day or Winter-night, 
 Seem long to them who thus can wing their hours ! 
 
 O ! ne'er may Pain, or Sorrow's cruel blight, 
 
 Breathe the dark mildew thro' thefe lovely bowers, 
 
 But lengthen'd Life fubfide in foft decay, 
 
 Illum'd by rifing Hope, and Faith's pervading ray. 
 
 May one kind ice-bolt, from the mortal ftores, 
 
 Arreft each vital current as it flows, 
 That no fad courfe of defolated hours 
 
 Here vainly nurfe the unfubfiding woes ! 
 While all who honor Virtue, gently mourn 
 LLANGOLLEN'S VANISH'D PAIR, and wreath their facred urn,
 
 VERSES 
 
 ON 
 
 WREXHAM, 
 
 AND THE 
 
 INHABITANTS OF ITS ENVIRONS. 
 
 PROUD of her ancient Race, Britannia Ihows 
 Where, in her Wales, another Eden glows, 
 And all her Sons, to Truth, and Honor dear, 
 Prove they deferve the Paradife they (hare. 
 
 Thrice happy Wrexham, 'mid thy neighbouring groves 
 Stray, with 'twin'd arms, the Virtues, and the Loves, 
 There FLETCHER*, from her own Gwernheyled, beams, 
 Fair as its meads, and liberal as its ftreams ; 
 The Sifter APPERLYS-J-, in Youth's foft morn, 
 With rifmg charms the feftal fcenes adorn ; 
 And friendly PRICED, as happy, free, and gay, 
 As when, in Life and Beauty's rofy May, 
 
 * Mrs. Fletcher of Gwernheyled Gwernheyled, means Sunny Alders. 
 
 t The two Mifs Apperlys. 
 J Mrs. Parry Price, late of that neighbourhood.
 
 ( '3 ) 
 
 She fhone, the Hebe of her green retreat, 
 With half the youth of Cambria at her feet. 
 See CUNLIFFE'S* eyes diffufe the gladdening ray, 
 And fried around her Pleafure's golden day ; 
 Meridian lovelinefs, majeftic grace,. 
 Stream o'er her form, and lighten in her face ? 
 While Senfe and Virtue's blended influence dart 
 The look, the voice, refiftlefs to the heart. 
 
 Nor only, WREXHAM, do thy circling groves 
 Boaft the fair Virtues, and the radiant Loves, 
 There HAYMAN'sf fong, with its inchanting powers, 
 Floats thro' thy vales, thy manfions, and thy bowers ; 
 Her hallow'd temple there Religion {hows, 
 That erft with beauteous majefty arofe 
 In ancient days, when Gothic Art difplay'd 
 Her fanes, in airy elegance array'd, 
 Whofe namelefs charms the Dorian claims efface, 
 Corinthian fplendor, and Ionic grace ; 
 Then plied, with curious fkill, now rarely fhown, 
 Th* adorning chifel, o'er the yielding ftone. 
 
 * The Lady of Sir Fofter Cunliffe, Baronet, 
 t Watkin Hayman, Efq.
 
 But as thofe Graces which alone delight 
 With their fine forms the captivated/^/, 
 Muft not afpire to emulate the Art 
 That, while it charms the eye, pervades the heart > 
 See Gothic Elegance the palm refigns, 
 When Art in intellectual greatnefs ihines. 
 Bright as in * Albion's long diftinguifh'd fanes, 
 Within thefe holy Walls, fhe lives, fhe reigns. 
 Her SAINTED MAID-)- , amid the burfting tomb, 
 Hears the LAST TRUMPET thrill its murky gloom, 
 With fmile triumphant over DEATH, and Time, 
 Lifts the rapt eye, and rears the form fublime. 
 
 WREXHAM, for thee thus rofe, by mental power, 
 Fair modern Science o'er the Arts of yore; 
 For thee exulting fhe entwines the wreaths, 
 As SCULPTURE fpeaks, and heavenly Music breathes, 
 Since great ROUBILLIAC decks thy SACRED SHRINE, 
 And GENIUS wakes thy RANDAL'S HARP:}: divine. 
 
 * Weftminfter. 
 
 t Sainted Maid. Mrs. Mary Middleton's monument by Roubilliac, in the Chan- 
 cel at Wrexham. 
 
 J Mr. Randal t Organift of Wrexham; an exquifite Performer on the pedal 
 Harp. He has been blind 'from his infancy.
 
 ( '5 ) 
 HOYLE LAKE*, 
 
 A 
 
 POEM, 
 
 WRITTEN ON THAT COAST, 
 AND ADDRESSED TO ITS PROPRIETOR, 
 
 SIR JOHN STANLEY: 
 
 THEE, STANLEY, thee, our gladden'd fpirit hails, 
 Since Life's firft good for us thy efforts gain, 
 
 Who, Habitants of Albion's inland vales, 
 Refide far diftant from her circling main. 
 
 Thefe lightfome Walls, beneath thy generous cares 
 Arofe, the lawny fcene's convivial boaft, 
 
 While at thy voice clear-cheek'd Hygeia rears 
 Her aqueous altars on this tepid coaft. 
 
 * Hoyle Lake, the real name, better fuited to verfe than its recently-affumed 
 appellation, High Lake.
 
 ( 16 ) 
 
 This coaft, the neareft to our central home, 
 That green Britannia's watry zone difplays, 
 
 Now gives the drooping Frame a cheerful Dome*, 
 Whofe Laresf fmile, and promife lengthen'd days. 
 
 When gather'd fogs the pale horizon deep, 
 Falling in heavy, deep, continual rain, 
 
 If, ere the Sun fink fhrouded in the deep, 
 His cryftal rays pervade the vapory train, 
 
 Dry are the turfy downs, diffufive fpread 
 O'er the light furface of the fandy mound, 
 
 Where e'en the languid Form may fafely tread, 
 Drink the pure gale, and eye the blue profound. 
 
 * The large and handfome Hotel, built in the year 1792, by SIR JOHN STAN- 
 LEY, and which converts thefe pleafant Downs into a commodious fea-bathing 
 Place. 
 
 t Lares, Houfehold-Gods.
 
 ( '7 ) 
 
 Dear Scene ! that ftretch'd between the filver arms 
 Of Deva*, and of Merfey, meets the main, 
 
 And when the fun-gilt day illumes its charms, 
 Boafts of peculiar grace, nor boafts in vain. 
 
 Tho' near the Beach,-dark Helbrie's lonely Ifle, 
 
 Repofes fallen in the watry way, 
 Hears round her rocks the tides, returning, boil, 
 
 And o'er her dufky fandals dafh their fpray. 
 
 Mark, to the left, romantic Cambria's coaft, 
 Her curtain'd mountains rifing o'er the floods ; 
 
 While feas on Orm's beak'd promontory burft, 
 Blue Deva fwells her mirror to the woods. 
 
 * Deva, the claflical name of the DEE. 
 
 " Nor yet where Deva fpreads her wizard ftream." 
 
 MILTON'S Lycidas. 
 Alfo Prior, in Henry and Emma. 
 
 " Him, great in peace and wealth, fair Deva knows." 
 
 MILTON, probably ufes the epithet zvifard, in allufion to the rites and myfteries 
 performed on the banks of the Deva, or Dee. In Spencer, that River is made the 
 haunt of Magicians. That fine poetic Scholar and Critic, the late Mr. T. WAR- 
 TON, obferves, in his Edition of Milton's lefler Poems, that MERLIN ufed to vifit 
 old Timon in a green Valley, at the foot of the Mountain, Rauran-Vaur, in 
 Merionethfhire, from which Mountain the River Deva fprings. See Fairy Queen, 
 B. i.C. ix. V. 4. In Drayton, an old Poet, with whofe works Milton was 
 familiar, it is ftyled " the hallowed, the holy, the ominous Jlood" 
 
 D
 
 High o'er that varkd ridge of Alpine forms, 
 Vaft MOEL-Y-FAMMAU* towers upon the fight, 
 
 Lifts her maternal bofom to the ftorms, 
 
 And fcreens her filial mountains from their blight. 
 
 \ 
 
 Far on the right, the dim .Lancaftrian plains, 
 In pallid diftance, glimmer thro' the fky, 
 
 Tho', hid by jutting rocks, thy fplendid fanes, 
 Commercial Liverpool, elude the eye. 
 
 Wide in the front the confluent Oceans roll, 
 Amid whofe reftlefs billows guardian Hoyle, 
 
 To fcreen her azure Lake when Tempefts howl, 
 Spreads the firm texture of her amber Ifle-j~. 
 
 And tho' the furging Tide's refiftlefs waves 
 Roll, day, and night, its level furface o'er, 
 
 Tho' the fkies darken, and the whirlwind raves, 
 They froth, but rulh innoxious to the fhore. 
 
 * Moel-y-Fammau, the firft word fpoken as one fyllable, as if fpelt Mole. The 
 name fignifies in Welch, Mother of Mountains. It is feen in the Hoyle-Lake pro- 
 fpecl, behind the Flintfhire Hills, and confiderably higher than any of them. 
 
 t Amber I/le, the Sand I/land, fix miles long, and four broad, which lying in 
 the Sea, a mile from fhore, forms the Lake; and breaking the force of the Tides, 
 constitutes the fafety of that Lake as an Harbour and Bathing-Place.
 
 ( '9 ) 
 
 When fear-ftruck fea-men, 'mid the raging flood, 
 Hear thundering SHIPWRECK yell her dire decrees, 
 
 See her pale arm rend every fail, and fhroud, 
 And o'er the high maft lift her whelming feas, 
 
 If to thy quiet harbour, gentle Hoyle, 
 The fhatter'd Navy thro' the temped flies, 
 
 Each joyous Mariner forgets his toil, 
 And carols to the vainly angry fkies. 
 
 What tho' they vex the Lake's cerulean ftream, 
 And curl its billows on the fhelly floor, 
 
 Yet, in defpite of Fancy's timid dream, 
 Age, and Infirmity, may plunge fecure. 
 
 How gay the Scene when Spring's fair mornings break, 
 Or Summer-noons illume the grafTy mound, 
 
 When anchor'd Navies crowd the peopled Lake, 
 Or deck the diftant Ocean's fkiey bound. 
 
 Like leaflefs forefls, on its verge extreme 
 
 Rife the tall mails ; or fpreading wide their fails, 
 
 Silvering, and fhining in the folar beam, 
 
 Stand on that laft blue line, and court the gales.
 
 ( 20 ) 
 
 The peopled Lake, of fong, and lively cheer, 
 And Boatfwain's whittle bears the jovial found ; 
 
 While rofy pennants, floating on the air, 
 
 Tinge the foft feas of glafs, that fleep around. 
 
 'Twas on thefe Downs* the Belgian Hero fpread 
 His ardent Legions in aufpicious hours, 
 
 Ere to lerne's hoftile fhores he led 
 
 To deathlefs glory their embattled Powers. 
 
 When, like the Conqueror of the Eaftern World, 
 That ftemm'd with dauntlefs bread the Granic flood, 
 
 His vi6lor-fword immortal WILLIAM whirl'd, 
 And Boyne's pale waters dyed with Rebel blood. 
 
 Since now, to health devoted, this calm fhore 
 
 Breathes renovation in its foamy wave, 
 For the kind DONOR fhall each heart implore, 
 
 The good his energies to others gave. 
 
 * KING WILLIAM encamped his army on the Hoyle Lake Downs, before he 
 took fhipping from thence, on his vi&orious expedition to Ireland.
 
 That long on him clear-cheek' d Hygeia's fmile, 
 And long on all he loves, ferene may fhine, 
 
 Who from thy fparkling coaft, benignant HOYLE, 
 Diffus'd the Wettings of her cryftal fhrine.
 
 HERVA*, 
 
 AT THE TOMB OF 
 
 ARGANTYR. 
 
 A 
 
 RUNIC DIALOGUE. 
 
 HERVA. 
 
 ARGANTYR, wake! to thee I call, 
 Hear from thy dark fepulchral hall ! 
 'Mid the Foreft's inmoft gloom, 
 Thy Daughter, circling thrice thy tomb, 
 
 Hervor. " Awake, Argantyr ! Hervor, the Daughter of thee and Sauferlama, 
 " doth awaken thee ! Give me out of the tomb the hardened fword which the 
 " Dwarfs made for Sauferlama." 
 
 * Doftor Hicks' literal profe Tranflation in his Thefaurus Septentrionalis, of this 
 ancient Norfe Poem, is here given to gratify the reader's curiofity; alfo to mow that 
 it is ufed only as an outline, and that the following Poem is a bold Paraphrafe, not 
 a Tranflation. The expreflions in Dr. Hicks' profe, have a vulgar familiarity, in- 
 jurious to the fublimity of the original conception. A clofe tranflation, in Englifh 
 verfe, will be found in a valuable collection of Runic Odes, by the ingenious and 
 learned Mr. Mathias. After his example, fome flight changes have been made in 
 the names, for their better accommodation to the verfe.
 
 With myftic rites of thrilling power 
 
 Difturbs thee at this midnight hour ! 
 
 I, thy Sauferlama's child, 
 
 Of my filial right beguiPd, 
 
 Now adjure thee to refign 
 
 The CHARMED SWORD, by birth-right mine 1 
 
 When the Dwarf, on Eyvor's plain, 
 
 Dim glided by thy marriage-train, 
 
 In jewel'd belt of gorgeous pride, 
 
 To thy pale and trembling Bride, 
 
 Gave he not, in whifper deep, 
 
 That dread companion of thy fleep ? 
 
 FalPn before its edge thy foes, 
 
 Idly does it now repofe 
 
 In the dark tomb with thee ? awake ! 
 
 Spells thy fullen (lumber break ! 
 
 Now their ftern command fulfill ! 
 
 Warrior, art thou filent ftill ? 
 
 Or are my grofs fenfes found 
 
 Deaf to the low fepulchral found?
 
 HERVARDOR, HIARVARDOR, hear ! 
 
 HRANI, mid thy (lumber drear! 
 
 Spirits of a dauntlefs Race, 
 
 In armor clad, your tombs I trace. 
 
 Now, with fharp and blood-ftain'd fpear, 
 
 Accent fhrill, and fpell fevere, 
 
 I wake you all from flumber mute, 
 
 Beneath the dark Oak's twifted root ! 
 
 Are Andgrym's hated Sons no more 
 
 That fleeps the SWORD, that drank their gore? 
 
 Living, why, to MAGIC RHYME, 
 
 Speaks no voice of former time, 
 
 Low as o'er your tombs I bend 
 
 To hear th' expected founds afcend, 
 
 Murmuring from your darkfome hall, 
 
 At a Virgin's folemn call ? 
 
 " Hervardur, Hiarvardur, Hrani, with helmet and coat of mail, and a Iharp fword, 
 " with fhield and accoutrements, and a bloody fpear, I awaken vou all under 
 " the roots of Trees. 
 
 " Are the Sons of Andgrym, who delighted in mifchief, now become duft and 
 " aflies ? Can none of Eyvor's Sons fpeak to me out of the habitations of 
 " the dead?"
 
 HERVARDOR, HIARVARDOR, hear ! 
 HRANI, mark my fpellfevere! 
 Henceforth may the femblance* cold, 
 That did each Warrior's fpirit hold, 
 Parch, as Corfe unbleft, that lies 
 Withering in the fultry fkies ! 
 Ghaftly may your forms decay, 
 Hence the noifome reptile's prey, 
 If ye force not, thus adjur'd, 
 My Sire to yield the CHARMED SWORD ! 
 
 '' Hervardur, Hiarvardur, Hrani! fo may you all be within your ribs, as a thing 
 " that is hanged up to putrify among infe&s, unlefs you caufe Argantyr to 
 " deliver up to me the fword which the Dwarfs made, and the glorious belt?" 
 
 * According to the Gothic Mythology, the fpirits of Heros flept in their bodies, 
 which did not decay. Putrefaftion, therefore, was the heavieft curfe that could be 
 denounced. 
 
 " Never fhall Enquirer come 
 
 " To break my iron-fleep again, 
 
 " Till Lok has burft his ten-fold chain." 
 
 GRAY'S Defcent of Odin, from the 
 Norfe Poetry.
 
 ARGANTYR. 
 
 Arm'd amid this ftarlefs gloom, 
 Thou, whofe fteps adventurous roam ; 
 Thou, that wav'ft a magic fpear 
 Thrice before our manfions drear, 
 Devoted Virgin, know in time 
 The mifchiefs of the RUNIC RHYME, 
 Forcing accents, mutter' d deep, 
 From the cold reluctant lip ! 
 Me no tender Father laid 
 Entomb'd beneath an hallow'd fhade ; 
 It was no friendly voice that gave 
 The Oak, that fcreen'd a Warrior's grave, 
 Gave it, in malignant tone, 
 To the blafting thunderflone. 
 Timelefs now thefe bones decay, 
 Pervious to the baleful ray 
 
 " Argantyt. Daughter Hervor, full of fpells to raife the dead, why doft thou 
 " call fo ? wilt thou run on to thine own mifchief ? Thou art mad, and out 
 " of thy fenfes, who art defperately refolved to awaken dead men!" 
 
 " I was not buried either by Father or other Friends Two which lived after me, 
 *' got Turfing, one of whom is now pofleflbr thereof."
 
 ( '7 ) 
 
 Of the fwartftar. 'Mid Battle's yell 
 
 The charm'd, the fatal Weapon fell 
 
 From my unwary grafp A Knight 
 
 Seiz'd the SWORD of magic might. 
 
 Virgin, of thy fpells demand 
 
 His name, and from his victor hand, 
 
 Try if thy intrepid zeal 
 
 May win the all-fubduing Steel. 
 
 rfqoiq il 
 HERVA. 
 
 Warrior, thus, with falfehood wild, 
 
 Seek'ft thou to deceive thy child? 
 
 Sure as Odin doom'd thy fall, 
 
 And hides thee in this filent hall, 
 
 Here fleeps the SWORD. Pale Chief, refign 
 
 That, which is by birthright mine ! 
 
 Fear 'ft thou, Spirit of my Sire, 
 
 At thy only Child's defire, 
 
 Glorious heritage to yield, 
 
 Conqueft in the death ful field ? 
 
 Hervor. Thou doft not tell the truth fo let Odin hide thee in the tomb, as 
 " thou haft got Turfing by thee. Art thou unwilling, Argantyr, to give an 
 " inheritance to thy only child?'*
 
 ARGANTYR. 
 
 Daring HERVA, liften yet, 
 
 Spare thy heart its long regret ! 
 
 Why trembling fhrunk thy Mother's frame 
 
 When the FATAL PRESENT came ? 
 
 Virgin, mark the boding word, 
 
 Sullen whifper'd o'er the SWORD I 
 
 It prophecied Argantyr's Foes 
 
 Shou'd rue its prowefs ; yet that woes 
 
 Greater far his RACE fhou'd feel, 
 
 Vi&ims of the CRUEL STEEL, 
 
 When, in blood of millions dyed, 
 
 It arms an ireful Fratricide. 
 
 MAID, no erring accents warn ; 
 
 Of Sons to thee, hereafter born, 
 
 One thy Chiefs fhall HYDRECK name, 
 
 Dark fpirited ! but dear to fame 
 
 Shall blooming HIARALMO live. 
 
 Maid, his doom thy mandates give! 
 
 Argantyr. I will tell thee, Hervor, what is to come to. pafs. This Turfing 
 " will, if thou doft believe me 1 , deftroy almoft all thy offspring. Thou malt 
 " have a Son, and many think that he will be called Hydrec by the People."
 
 Renounce, renounce the dire demand, 
 
 Or to thy Sons, in HYDRECK'S hand, 
 
 Fatal proves, fome future day, 
 
 Th CHARMED SWORD. Difturb it not! away! 
 
 HERVA. 
 ARGANTYR, hear thy Daughter's voice, 
 
 Spells decree an only choice I 
 Or, in perturbed tomb unbleft, 
 The filence of fepulchral reft 
 Shall no more thy funk eye fteep, 
 Clofe no more thy pallid lip, 
 Or, ere this night's fhadows melt, 
 Mine the SWORD, and gorgeous belt. 
 
 ARGANTYR. 
 
 Young Maid, who as of warrior might, 
 Roameft thus to tombs by night, 
 In coat of mail, with voice auftere, 
 Waving the Corfe-awakening SPEAR 
 O'er thy dead Anceftors ; offence, 
 And danger threaten ! hie thee hence f 
 
 " Hervor. I do, by Enchantments, make that the Dead fhall. never know peace, or 
 " reft, unlefs thou deliver up to me Turfing," 
 
 " Argantyr. Young Maid, I fay thou art of manlike courage, who doft roam 
 " about by night to-tombs, with fpear engraven by magical fpells, with heU 
 " met and coat of mail, before the door of our Hall."
 
 ( 3 ) 
 
 HERVA. 
 
 Obey, obey, or deep no more ! 
 Now my facred right reftore ! 
 The SWORD, that joys when Foes affail, 
 Sword, that fcorns the ribbed mail, 
 Scorns the car, in fwift career, 
 Scorns the helmet, fcorns the fpear j 
 Scorns the nerv'd experienced arm ; 
 ARGANTYR, yield it to my charm ! 
 *Tis not well the Victor's pride, 
 With thee in filent tombs to hide ; 
 Thy Child, thy only Child, demands, 
 Reach it with thy withered hands ! 
 
 ARGANTYR. 
 
 The death of HIARALMO lies 
 Beneath this mouldering arm ! -and rife 
 Round its edge, the lurid fires, 
 Hoftile to unaw'd defires. 
 Hie thee hence, nor madly dare 
 The death-denouncing grafp ; beware ! 
 
 " Hervor. I took thee for a brave man before I found out your halls. Give me 
 
 " out of the tomb the workmanfhip of the Dwarfs, which hates all coats of 
 
 " mail. It is not good for thee to hide it." 
 " Argantyr. The death of Hialmor lies beneath my fhoulders. It is all wrapt 
 
 " up in fire. I know no Maid of any Country that darts take this Sword in 
 
 " hand."
 
 HERVA. 
 
 Not if thoufand fires invade 
 Streaming from its angry blade. 
 Innoxious are the fires that play 
 Round the Corfe, with meteor ray, 
 And in thefe wafte hours of night 
 Silent death-halls dimly light ; 
 Yet, gliding with confuming force, 
 Undaunted wou'd I meet their courfe. 
 
 ARGANTYR. 
 
 Thou, whofe awlefs voice proclaims 
 Scorn of the fepulchral flames, 
 Left their force around thee fwell, 
 Punifhing thy daring fpell, 
 And thy mortal form confume, 
 HERVA, fee! thy Father's tomb 
 
 Hervor. I {hall take and keep it in my hand, if I may obtain it. I do not 
 " think the fires will burn that play about the. fight of deceafed men.' v 
 
 Argantyr. O, conceited Hervor, thou art mad! Rather than thou fhouldeft 
 *' in an inftant fall into the fire, I will give thee the Sword, O, young Maid, 
 " and not hide it from thee."
 
 Opens ! mark, to thee reftor'd, 
 Rifmg flow, the baneful SWORD ! 
 See, it meets thy rafh defire 
 *Bickering with funereal fire ! 
 
 HERVA. 
 
 Warrior, now doft thou reclaim 
 The luftre of thy former fame ; 
 Lo, the SWORD, a feeming brand, 
 Blazes in thy Daughter's hand ! 
 Nor perifhes that hand beneath 
 Vaporous flames, that round it wreathe, 
 Gleam along the midnight air, 
 Illume the foreft wide, and glare 
 On the fcath'd Oak ! Sepulchral wood, 
 Thee I quit for fields of blood ! 
 Nor would I, on its fateful range, 
 This SWORD, with all its meteors, change 
 For the Norweyan fceptre. Lo, 
 Death, and conqueft, wait me now !- 
 
 Hervor. Thou doft well, Offspring of Heroes, that thou doft give me the 
 " Sword out of the Tomb. I am now better pleafed, O Prince, to have it, 
 " than if I had got all Norway." 
 
 * " And from about him fierce effufion roll'd 
 
 " Of fmoke, m&bickeringjlame, and fparkles dire." 
 
 MILTON'S Par, Loft. B. vi. line 765.
 
 ( 33 ) 
 
 ARGANTYR. 
 
 HIARALMO'S future bane, 
 Grafp'd with exultation vain, 
 Fatal, fatal fhall be found 
 To thee, and thine, in curelefs wound ! 
 By that wound 'tis now decreed 
 HYDREK'S felf at length (hall bleed ! 
 Herva, lefs thy long regret 
 Had thy Chiefs in combat met 
 Andgrym's fons, with warlike zeal, 
 Met them in uncharmedfasl. 
 
 HERVA. 
 
 Sleep, Argantyr, Chief of might, 
 Thro' the long, the dreary night ; 
 Nor let ftrife, and bitter fcorn, 
 'Mid Herva's offspring, yet unborn, 
 
 " Argantyr. Falfe Woman! thou doft not underftand that thou fpeakeft 
 " foolifhly of that in which thou doft rejoice. Turfing fhall, if thou wilt be* 
 " lieveme, deftroy all thy offspring." 
 
 " Hervor. I muft go to my Seamen, here I have no mind to ftay any longer,-*- 
 " Little do I care, O royal Friend, what my Sons hereafter quarrel about,"
 
 ( 34 ) 
 
 Difturb thee in the tomb ! and mark, 
 The SPEAR, that broke thy (lumber dark, 
 Round the blafled Oak I wave, 
 That ill prote&s a Warrior's grave ! 
 . Soon fhall its fcath'd trunk be feen 
 Cloth'd in fhielding bark, and green 
 As before the vengeful time, 
 When, by force of baleful RHYME, 
 It fhrunk amid the foreft's groan, 
 Smote by the red thunderftone. 
 Thro' the renovated boughs, 
 Guardians of thy deep repofe, 
 Shall the hail no longer pour, 
 The livid Dog-ftar look no more ! 
 Spirits of the elder Dead, 
 Spell-awak'd from (lumber dread, 
 Not to your fpears, in martial pride, 
 Retting by each Hero's fide, 
 Not to your gore-fpotted mail, 
 Steely fhroud of Warrior pale, 
 Shall, thro' thoufand Winters, drain 
 Driving fnow, or drenching rain ; 
 Nor, while countlefs Summers beam 
 On arid plain, or fhrinking ftream,
 
 ( 35 ) 
 
 Thro* the widening chink be known 
 Reptile vile of fultry Noon, 
 To wind the flimy track abhorr'd ! 
 Fate is mine, fince mine the SWORD ! 
 
 ARGANTYR. 
 
 Herva, thine the fource of woes, 
 
 Direful long to all thy foes, 
 
 Ere againft thy peace it turn, 
 
 And thou thy bleeding Race fhalt mourn. 
 
 When extinct the tomb's blue fires, 
 
 Whofe light now gleams, and now retires, 
 
 Quivering o'er its edge, forbear 
 
 To touch the VENOM'D BLADE ; beware ! 
 
 Venom, for the blood prepar'd 
 
 Of twelve brave Chiefs, their dread reward. 
 
 Argantyr. Take and keep Hialmor's bane, which thou (halt long have and 
 " enjoy. Touch not the edges, there is poifon on both of them ! It is a 
 " moft cruel Devourer of Men!" 
 
 Farewell Daughter. I do quickly give thee the twelve men's deaths, if thou 
 " canft believe with might and courage, and all the goods that Andgrym's 
 " Sons have left behind them."
 
 ( 36 ) 
 
 Herva, now thy Father's tomb 
 Slowly clofes ! Ne'er prefume 
 Again to breathe, in Odin's hall, 
 Shrill, the Corfe-difturbing call! 
 
 HERVA. 
 
 I go, for thefe blue fires infeft 
 The troubled tomb's prefumptuous Gueft ; 
 As of ftep profane aware, 
 Round me, more and more, they glare. 
 Hervardor, Hiarvardor, keep 
 Lafting flumber ! Hrani fleep ! 
 AndfleepARGANTYn! Chiefs of might, 
 Quiet be your mornlefs night! 
 
 Hervor. Dwell, all of you fafe in the Tombs! I muft be gone and haften 
 " hence, for I feem to be in a place where fire burns about me."
 
 ( 37 ) 
 
 EYAM*. 
 
 FOR one fhort week I leave, with anxious heart, 
 Source of my filial cares, the FULL OF DAYS; 
 Lur'd by the promife of harmonic Art 
 To breathe her Handel's foul-exalting lays. 
 Penfive I trace the Derwent's amber wave-)-, 
 Foaming thro' fylvan banks, or view it lave 
 The foft romantic vallies, high o'er-peer'd 
 By hills, and rocks, in favage grandeur rear'd. 
 
 Not two fhort miles from thee, can I refrain 
 Thy haunts, my native EYAM, long unfeen? 
 Thou, and thy lov'd Inhabitants again 
 Shall meet my tranfient gaze. Thy rocky fcreen, 
 
 * This Poem was written Augufl 1788, on a Journey through Derby (hire, to 
 a mufic-meeting at Sheffield. The Author's Father was Reftor of EYAM, an ex- 
 tenfive Village, that runs along a mountainous terrace, in one of the higheft parts 
 of the Peak. She was born there, and there pafTed the firft feven years of her 
 life, vifiting the Place often with her Father in future periods. The middle part of 
 this Village is built on the edge of a deep Dell, which has. very pifturefquc, and 
 beautiful features. 
 
 t Amber wave. From the peculiar nature of the clay on the mountains, from 
 which it defcends, the River Derwent has a yellow tint, that well becomes the dark 
 foliage on its banks, and the perpetual foam produced by a narrow, and reeky 
 -channel.
 
 Thy airy cliffs I mount; and feek thy fhade, 
 Thy roofs, that brow the fteep, romantic glade; 
 But, while on me the eyes of Friendfhip glow, 
 Swell my pain'd fighs, my tears fpontaneous flow. 
 
 In Scenes paternal, not beheld thro* years, 
 
 Nor view'd, till now, but by a Father's fide, 
 
 Well might the tender tributary tears, 
 
 From keen regrets of duteous fondnefs, glide. 
 
 Its Paftor, to this Human-Flock no more 
 
 Shall the long flight of future days reftore ; 
 
 Diftant he droops and that once-gladdening eye 
 
 Now languid gleams, e'en when his Friends are nigh, 
 
 Thro' this known walk, where weedy gravel lies, 
 Rough, and unfightly ; by the long coarfe grafs 
 Of the once fmooth, and vivid Green, with fighs, 
 To the deferted Rectory I pafs ; 
 Stray thro' the darken'd chambers naked bound, 
 Where Childhood's earlieft, livelieft blifs I found. 
 How chang'd, fince erft, the lightfome walls beneath, 
 The focial joys did their warm comforts breathe !
 
 ( 39 ) 
 
 Ere yet I go, who may return no more, . 
 That facred Pile, 'mid yonder fhadowy trees, 
 Let me revifit ! ancient, mafiy door, 
 Thou grateft hoarfe ! my vital fpirits freeze 
 Faffing the vacant Pulpit to the fpace 
 Where humble rails the decent Altar grace, 
 And where my infant filler's afhes fleep, 
 Whofe lofs I left the childifh fport to weep. 
 
 * Now the low beams, with paper garlands hung, 
 In memory of fome village Youth, or Maid, 
 Draw the foft tear, from thrilPd remembrance fprung, 
 How oft my childhood mark'd that tribute paid. 
 The gloves fufpended by the garland's fide, 
 White as its fnowy flowers, with ribbands tied ; 
 Dear Village ! long thefe wreaths funereal fpread, 
 Simple memorials of thy early Dead ! 
 
 * The ancient cuftom of hanging a garland of white rofes, made of writing- 
 paper, and a pair of white gloves, over the pew of the unmarried Villagers, who 
 die in the flower of their age, is obferved to this day, in the Village of EYAM, and 
 in moft other Villages, and little Towns in the Peak.
 
 ( 40 ) 
 
 But, O! thou blank, and filent Pulpit! thou 
 That with a Father's precepts, juft, and bland, 
 Did'fl win my ear, as Reafon's f lengthening glow 
 Show'd their full value now thou feem'ft to ftand 
 Before my fad, fuffus'd, and trembling gaze, 
 The drearieft relic of departed days ; 
 Of eloquence paternal, nervous, clear, 
 DIM APPARITION THOU, and bitter is my tear.
 
 ( 4. ) 
 
 TO 
 
 TIME PAST. 
 
 WRITTEN DEC. 1778. 
 
 RETURN, bleft years ! when not the jocund Spring, 
 
 Luxuriant Summer, nor the amber hours 
 
 Calm Autumn, gives, my heart invok'd to bring 
 
 Joys, whofe rich balm o'er all the bofom pours ; 
 
 When ne'er I wifh'd might grace the clofmg day 
 
 One tint purpureal, or one golden ray ; 
 
 When the loud Storms, that defolate the bowers, 
 
 Found dearer welcome than Favonian gales, [Vales ! 
 
 And Winter's bare, bleak fields, than Summer's flowery 
 
 Yet, not to deck pale hours with vain parade 
 Beneath the blaze of wide-illumin'd Dome ; 
 Not for the bounding Dance ; not to pervade, 
 And charm the fenfe with Mufic; nor, as roam 
 The mimic Paflions o'er theatric fcene, 
 To laugh, or weep; O ! not for thefe, I ween, 
 But for delights that made the heart their home, 
 Was the grey night-froft on the founding plain 
 More than the Sun invok'd, that gilds the grafly lane. 
 
 G
 
 ( 42 ) 
 
 Yes, for the joys that trivial joys excell, 
 
 My lov'd Ho NOR A*, did we hail the gloom 
 
 Of dim November's eve; and as it fell, 
 
 And the bright fires {hone cheerful round the room, 
 
 Dropt the warm curtains with no tardy hand ; 
 
 And felt our fpirits, and our hearts expand, 
 
 Liftening their fteps, who ftill, where'er they come, 
 
 Make the keen ftars, that glaze the fettled fnows, 
 
 More than the Sun invok'd, when firft he tints the rofe. 
 
 Affection, Friendfhip, Sympathy, your throne 
 
 Is Winter's glowing hearth; and ye were ours, 
 
 Thy fmile, Ho NOR A, made them all our own. 
 
 Where are they now ? alas! their choiceft powers 
 
 Faded at thy retreat ; for thou art gone, 
 
 And many a dark, long Eve I figh alone, 
 
 In thrilFd remembrance of the vanifh'd hours, 
 
 When ftorms were dearer than the balmy gales, 
 
 And Winter's bare bleak fields than green luxuriant vales. 
 
 * Miss HONORA SNEYD, to whom the gallant, and unfortunate MAJOR ANDRE, 
 was fo unalienably attached. See the Author's MONODY on that Gentleman. 
 
 '.'.ntpl '/Hog JiTJ sblig 3j
 
 ( 43 ) 
 
 The following are felefted from a centenary of SONNETS, written as 
 occafion prefented the Idea, through a Courfc of more than twenty 
 Years. The Author intends to publifh them collcftively at fome 
 future period. 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 INGRATITUDE, how deadly is thy fmart, 
 Proceeding from the Form we fondly love ! 
 How light, compared, all other forrows prove ! 
 Thou fhed'ft a night of woe, from whence depart 
 
 The gentle beams of patience, that the heart 
 'Mid lefier ills illume. Thy Victims rove 
 Unquiet as the Ghofl that haunts the grove 
 Where MURDER fpilt the life-blood. O! thy dart 
 
 Kills more than life, e'en all that makes it dear; 
 Till we the " fenfible of pain" wou'd change 
 For Phrenzy, that defies the bitter tear, 
 
 Or wifh, in kindred calloumefs, to range 
 Where moon-ey'd IDIOCY, with fallen lip, 
 Drags the loofe knee, and intermitting ftep.
 
 ( 44 ) 
 
 SONNET, 
 
 WRITTEN ON RISING GROUND, 
 NEAR LICHFIELD. 
 
 The Evening fhines in May's luxuriant pride, 
 And all the funny hills at diftance glow, 
 And all the brooks that thro' the Valley flow, 
 Seem liquid gold. O ! had my fate denied 
 
 Leifure, and power to tafte the fweets, that glide 
 Thro' kindling Souls, as the foft Seafons go 
 On their ftill varying progrefs, for the woe 
 My heart has felt, what balm had been fupplied? 
 
 But where gVeat NATURE fmiles, as here fhe fmiles, 
 'Mid verdant vales, and gently-fwelling hills, 
 And glafTy lakes, and mazy, murmuring rills, 
 
 And narrow wood- wild lanes, her fpell beguiles 
 
 ': - > 
 
 Th' impatient fighs of grief, and reconciles 
 Poetic minds to Life, with all her ills.
 
 ( 45 ) 
 
 SONNET, 
 
 TO A 
 
 YOUNG LADY IN AFFLICTION, 
 
 WHO THOUGHT SHE SHOULD NEVER MORE BE HAPPY; 
 
 WRITTEN ON THE SEA-SHORE. 
 
 Yes, thou {halt fmile again! Time always heals, 
 In Youth, the wounds of forrow. O ! furvey 
 Yon now fubfided Deep, thro' night a prey 
 To warring winds, and to their furious peals 
 
 Surging tumultuous Yet, as in difmay, 
 The fettling billows tremble Morning fteals 
 Grey on the rocks; and foon, to pour the day 
 From the ftreak'd eaft, the radiant Orb unveils, 
 
 In all his pride of light. Thus fhall the glow 
 Of beauty, health, and hope, by foft degrees 
 Spread o'er thybreaft ; difperfe thefe florms of woe 
 
 Wake with foft Pleafure's fenfe, the wifli to pleafe, 
 Till from thofe eyes the wonted lu fires flow, 
 Bright as the Sun, on calm, and cryftal Seas.
 
 ( 46 ) 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 Now, young-ey'd Spring, on gentle breezes borne, 
 'Mid the deep woodlands, hills, and vales, and bowers, 
 Unfolds her leaves, her bloflbms, and her flowers, 
 Pouring their foft luxuriance on the morn. 
 
 O ! how unlike the wither'd, wan, and worn, 
 And limping Winter, that o'er rufTet moors, 
 And plafhy fields, and ice-incrufted fhores 
 Strays, and commands his rifing winds to mourn I 
 
 Protra&ed Life, thou art ordain'd to wear 
 
 A form like his ; and, fhou'd thy gifts be mine, 
 I tremble left a kindred influence drear 
 
 Steal on my mind ; but pious Hope benign, 
 The Soul's new day-fpring, fhall avert the fear, 
 And gild Exiftence in her dim decline.
 
 ( 47 ) 
 SONNET. 
 
 INVITATION TO A FRIEND. 
 
 Since dark December fhrouds the tranfient day, 
 And ftormy Winds are howling in their ire, 
 Why com'ft not THOU, who always can'ft infpire 
 The foul of cheerfulnefs, and beft array 
 
 A fullen hour in fmiles? O ! hafte to pay 
 The cordial vifit fullen hours require ! 
 Around the circling Walls a glowing fire 
 Shines ; but it vainly fhines in this delay 
 
 To blend thy fpirit's warm Promethean light. 
 Come then, at Science, and at Friendship's call, 
 Their vow'd Difciple ; come, for they invite ; 
 
 The focial Powers without thee languifh all. 
 
 Come, that I may not hear the winds of night, 
 Nor count the heavy eve-drops as they fall !
 
 ( 48 ) 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 If he whofe bofom with no tranfport fwells 
 In vernal airs, and hours, commits the crime 
 Of fullennefs to Nature ; 'gainft the time, 
 And its great RULER, he alike rebels 
 
 Who ferioufnefs, and pious dread repels, 
 And awelefs gazes on the faded Clime, 
 Dim in the gloom, and pale in the hoar rhyme, 
 That o'er the bleak, and dreary ProfpecT: deals. 
 
 Spring claims our tender, grateful, gay delight ; 
 Winter our fympathy, and facred fear ; 
 And fure the Hearts that pay not Pity's rite 
 
 O'er wide Calamity, that carelefs hear 
 Creation's wail, neglect, amid her blight, 
 The folemn leflbn of the RUIN'D YEAR. 
 
 FINIS.
 
 from which it was borrowed 
 
 NON-RENEWABLE 
 
 JUL16 992 
 
 DUE 2 WKS FROM DME RECEIVED 

 
 A 000000753 4