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 POEMS 
 
 WRITTEN IN OBSCURITY AND SECLUSION. 
 
 BY 
 
 MARY KERR HART. 
 
 WITH A MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. * 
 
 AVheii EartL lies parch'd by solar pow'r, 
 How welcome is cool Ev'ning's hour ; 
 As welcome, when to grief is given 
 Com passion's tear — the dew of Heav'n. 
 
 PRINTED BY W. HILL, BALLINGDON : 
 
 AND SOLD BY 
 
 BALDWIN AND CTi A DOCK, PATERNOSTER ROW ; DECK, SHAI.DEKS, HUNT, 
 
 AND PIPER, IPSWICH; DECK, BURY; HARDACRE, IIADLEIGII; 
 
 LODER, WOODURTUGE; AND SMITH, EDINBURGH.
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The dread of being overtaken by absolute 
 penury, has induced the Author of the following 
 Poems, to offer them to the public : and as they 
 were never intended for publication, many of them 
 being of a personal character, and most of them 
 partaking of the colour of her own dark and 
 melancholy fate, it is necessary they should be pre- 
 faced with a short Memoir of herself.
 
 MEMOIR 
 
 OF 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 My mother died when I was an infant. At her death, 
 Mr. O'KeefFe, the late venerable author, wrote the follow- 
 ing Lines, inserting them in the Morning Herald for 
 January 28, 1793. I now copy them from the paper it- 
 self, that valuable relic having been put into my hands 
 some years ago, by my late grandmother, who, as well 
 as my mother, was well known to the Poet. 
 
 LINES ON THE DEATH OF AN AMIABLE AND VERY 
 BEAUTIFUL LADY, AT FARNHAM. 
 
 January 16, 1793. 
 
 Death took it in his empty skull 
 
 He'd be a Beau ou next birth-day. 
 And needs a nosegay he must pull 
 
 To make him up a choice bouquet. 
 
 • 
 
 To Beauty's garden straight he hied, 
 
 With sweeping scythe her flowers to mow; 
 
 Your trouble spare, the owner cry'd. 
 By my advice to Faruham go :
 
 Vlll MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 Thougli here fond bees for sweets may swarm, 
 
 Their tasteless buzzings do not mind. 
 For there, ^ach grace that sense can charm, 
 
 In one fair blooming flow'r you'll find. 
 
 Quick to this lovely fragrant rose 
 
 His icy fingers he applies, 
 (Death's finest of fine birth-day beaux) 
 
 For in his breast Eliza dies ! 
 
 Her bloom's bequeath'd to blushing morn, 
 
 Her fragrance with the zephyr blends, 
 But ah ! to whom is left the thorn ? 
 
 Sharp in the bosom of her friends! 
 
 J. O'Keeffe, Brompton. 
 
 The following answer was made to those lines by my 
 father, addressed to Mr. O'Keeffe : — 
 
 " Sir, 
 
 " I TRUST you will not think me impertinent 
 for giving you this trouble, but having seen verses in 
 the paper, to which you sign your name, I cannot 
 avoid giving you these thanks, which flow from a heart 
 that bleeds, and ever will, for the loss I have sustained, 
 in the most innocent and attached woman that I believe 
 ever lived. 
 
 " Miserable as I must ever be, I thank you for that 
 tribute you have paid to her memory : (and from your 
 
 w 
 
 pen it is made durable.) My mind is at present not able 
 to express itself more fully, but I request that you will
 
 MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. ix 
 
 believe I shall ever feel greatly obliged to you, though 
 unknow^n to you, for a panegyric upon her to whom my 
 heart was entirely devoted. 
 
 " I am, Sir, with great regard, 
 
 " Your oblicred humble servant, 
 
 " Lothian." 
 
 Farnham, February 9, 1793. 
 
 Thg respect felt for my mother's memory, by Lord 
 Lothian's family, and by all who knew her, has been the 
 greatest consolation and support of my life: — It has been 
 one rose among the briars strewing my path, unwitherino- 
 — unperishable — -and unassailable by the blasts which 
 have blown on me from all points. — I was brought up 
 under the immediate protection and tender care of the 
 Marquis, and received a superior education at Castle 
 Hill House, Reading. While spending some time with 
 my grandmother, I was introduced to a Rev. Baronet, 
 Chaplain to the Prince Regent : and in due time a con- 
 tract of marriage was formed between us, with the consent 
 of my father, and the approbation of Lord C. Kerr, who 
 had always manifested a warm interest in my welfare, 
 and thus more strongly endeared himself to his father. 
 
 The acquaintance was, however, unexpectedly broken 
 off by the interference of my grandmother, in consequence 
 of which, 1 abruptly and disobediently left her house, and
 
 X MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 came into this fatal neighbourhood, " with all my best 
 feelings benumbed," — taking refuge in the family of a 
 clergyman, who had formerly been curate for the Rev. 
 Baronet. 
 
 " Oh grief beyond all other griefs, when fate 
 First leaves the young heart lone and desolate 
 In the wide world, without that only tie, 
 For which it hop'd to live, or fear'd to die !" 
 
 Totally regardless of future prospects, and (under the 
 illusion of youth and ardour) conceiving mi/ course was 
 run, and that the space remaining between me and the 
 grave was a blank — a dead blank, unworthy of a thought 
 or a care, I suddenly and submissively united myself to 
 Mr. Hart, whom my friends had been led to believe a 
 man of great opulence and respectability, as they had 
 been referred by him to Sir Thomas Gooch, Sir William 
 Rowley, and others of that grade in this neighbourhood. 
 
 The gaudy rags hung round to hide from me my true 
 fate, fell down one by one, and before they had all fallen 
 I found myself the wife of a lunatic and a beggar too ! 
 and that the well-filled purse and all the other vaunted 
 advantages, ray friends felt assured would result from the 
 match, were but the brilliant and fantastic visions of a 
 madman's brain ! 
 
 The following letter will prove that my father had been 
 led to consider my husband a gentleman : —
 
 memoir of the author. xi 
 
 "Sir, 
 "Your conduct appears to me so truly honourable 
 and disinterested,* that I sincerely hope your marriage 
 with my daughter Mary may prove a lasting comfort to 
 you both. I must now only request that you will give 
 directiorts to the gentleman you employ as your solicitor, 
 to send to Mr. Hollist, my attorney, a draft of the settle- 
 ment you propose to make for my inspection. 
 
 '' I am. Sir, 
 
 " With great regard, 
 
 " Your very obedient servant, 
 
 " Lothian." 
 
 Famham, November 9, 1814. 
 
 The impression made by such a union, in a neighbour- 
 hood where / was a total stranger, could not fail to be 
 highly unfavourable to me. " How was each circum- 
 stance with aspics arm'd ;" and the tossings of the 
 ocean of trouble on which I had embarked having kept 
 me stationary no where, I had not a fair opportunity of 
 obliterating that impression : — and to it I am willing to 
 
 * This sentence has reference to a declaration on the part of Mr. Hart, that 
 he did not want a shilling with me, and my father in consequence altered his 
 will, giving me but lOOOL The codicil to this effect is dated after mymarriage, 
 and two months after that deplorable event, my dear father was borne to the 
 tomb, — whither he was followed a year afterwards by Lord C. Kerr, — and very 
 shortly after my husband was declared a bankrupt and publicly pronounced 
 a lunatic!
 
 XU MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 attribute some of the aggravated misery I have endured 
 during sixteen years of the existence I have. dragged 
 on — unknown and unpitied — unfriended and unshel- 
 tered ; — the sport of malice and cowardice — and the 
 prey of fraud and tyranny ! 
 
 To local disadvantages also, which I will not sully 
 even my humble page by enumerating ; and to the 
 pictures which, in obscurity and solitude, recollection 
 will present, may be traced some of that wretchedness I 
 have attempted to describe. 
 
 I gladly, however, avail myself of this opportunity to 
 acknowledge the great kindness and sympathy I have 
 experienced from the enlightened and discerning, 
 from " the few" who can " trace the fine machinery of 
 the mind ;" — among these are my old friends and many 
 new ones whom I have been fortunate enough to meet 
 in my wanderings : this being the thirty-ninth lodging, 
 or temporary place of shelter I have had since I left 
 Edwardston Lodge, the home provided for me at the 
 
 time of my unfortunate marriage.' -And '*Oh ! what 
 
 is woman — what is woman unprotected;" particularly 
 when she stands the lone and living illustration of the 
 awful denunciation contained in the second command- 
 ment, and has the still greater misfortune to inherit 
 ■patrician blood ; the nature of which is to boil under
 
 MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. XIU 
 
 the lash of persecution, and rush like an impetuous 
 torrent to meet and repel its force ; scorning the les- 
 sons taught by servility and the world, that " la poverta 
 e un infamia," &c. &c. 
 
 For jny own part, I can say that my very helpless- 
 ness has supplied me with courage ; but with that 
 courage which braves the battle and leaves a track of 
 devastation behind — that track in the present case is 
 but t(5o evident, for the intense excitement and exertion 
 of mind, with the " waste and wear of the heart," — 
 caused by the nerve to feel — the imagination to colour 
 — and the memory to compare, have brought me to the 
 brink of the grave. 
 
 Let me not, however, contradict Mr. Moore's observa- 
 tion, " That in collecting our force to overcome difficul- 
 ties, we invigorate the soul ;" and much less deny, that 
 "it is good for me to have been afflicted." 
 
 " Melancholy's baneful hand hath its sad poppies 
 round the temples spread" of my unfortunate hus- 
 band's family ! and the last time I presented myself and 
 one of my destitute boys at their door, it was shut and 
 locked in my face, and we were told to seek a shelter 
 elsewhere ; although they had a short time previously 
 received the following letter from John HoUist, Esq. 
 my father's solicitor.
 
 XIV ' MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 "To Mr. Hart, Sen. 
 "Sir, 
 
 "I HAVE lately heard so sad and pitiable an 
 account of Mrs. Hart and her children, that I cannot 
 refrain from addressing you on the subject. 
 
 " I have known Mrs. Hart from her infancy, and for 
 many years previous to her marriage I was in the habit 
 of meeting her at the same table, and witnessino- the kind- 
 ness and affection with which she was treated by a most 
 indulgent parent. 
 
 " It is not, therefore, I hope, assuming too much to 
 ask you to make her some certain allowance, particu- 
 larly when it is considered that her marriage portion 
 was appropriated to discharge certain claims on the 
 estate. I earnestly entreat you to come to some 
 arrangement on the subject, and to do that which is 
 compatible with your own situation for the support of 
 those whose claims I am advocating; and I would 
 further request a line from you at your earliest con- 
 venience. 
 
 " I am, Sir, 
 
 " Your obedient servant, 
 
 "John Hollist. 
 
 •' Farnham, November, 1820. 
 
 "P. S. I shall enclose this to Mrs. Hart, to be delivered 
 to you ; as I am not acquainted with your address."
 
 MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. XV 
 
 To dwell upon or throv/ out this feature of my misery, 
 in all its awful prominence, would be too painful. Let 
 me, therefore, in charity to myself and human nature, 
 draw a veil over it, and display the next and milder 
 grief in progression — Poverty ! which I can do effectu- 
 ally, ai],d at the same time, be again spared, for a page 
 or two, the use of an egotist's pen, by the introduction 
 of a letter from Mr. Minshull, Public Office, Bow-Street. 
 
 May that letter be permitted to add force to my 
 apology for presenting myself to the Public in the cha- 
 racter of an Authoress ! 
 
 " A hapless outcast, on whose natal day 
 
 No star propitious beam'd a kindly ray : 
 
 By some malignant influence doom'd to roam, 
 
 The worlds wide dreary waste, and find no home. 
 
 Whom Heav'n to solace, as lifepass'd along, 
 
 Infus'd in its sour cup, the sweets of song." 
 
 "To Mrs, Hart. 
 "Madam, 
 
 " It is impossible to read the account you 
 give of your peculiarly distressed situation, without feel- 
 ing an anxious desire to assist you and your children. 
 
 " Though I will not understand any part of your 
 letter, as even hinting at parochial relief, yet you will 
 excuse my explaining to you the nature of it, thereby
 
 XVI MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 to prove that it is the very last expedient of the dis- 
 tressed. 
 
 " The person applying to a magistrate for relief, is 
 sent to the workhouse of the parish where she has last 
 had a lodging: the officers of that parish immediately 
 take her examination upon oath before two magistrates, 
 as to the place of her husband's settlement, to which 
 parish (however distant) she would be removed by an 
 order signed by the magistrates. 
 
 " God forbid that you should ever be reduced to such 
 an extremity, and I have only to hope you will excuse 
 what I have said on the subject. 
 
 " The family you allude to have never deserted you, 
 and I am sure your most exemplary conduct under the 
 greatest trials I ever heard of, will entitle you to their 
 protection. 
 
 " Yoyr case is not new to me, I have heard of it in Suf- 
 folk, where it is known and commiserated, and where you 
 are universally respected. 
 
 "The first object is to get your sons provided for: the 
 eldest, who is fourteen, is old enough to be placed in some 
 situation. 
 
 "Assuring you of my good wishes, and anxious desire 
 
 to serve you, 
 
 "I remain. Madam, 
 
 "Most truly yours, 
 
 "G. R. MiNSHULL." 
 
 Public Office, Bow-street, 
 May 1830.
 
 MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. XVU 
 
 The foregoing letter will admit the insertion of the 
 following, addressed to me by Lord R. Kerr, whose 
 affectionate and unremitted attention to me, being 
 as honourable to his own feelings, as it has been sooth- 
 ing and gratifying to mine, I feel much satisfaction 
 in recording — particularly as the Gentleman who is 
 the patron of this little work is a highly respected friend 
 and countryman of his. 
 
 " My dear Mary, 
 
 "If you, or Mr. Minshull (who must be an 
 excellent man, and to whom I beg to offer my warmest 
 acknowledgments for the kind interest he takes in 
 your case), can point out any situation for your sons or 
 yourself, you may rely on my most earnest endeavours 
 in your behalf. 
 
 " I am not surprised at your dislike to return to Suffolk, 
 it is perfectly natural. 
 
 " Give me the age and capabilities of your sons, as well 
 as their dispositions and views, and it shall not be my 
 fault if something be not done for them. 
 
 " Believe me, you have my sincerest and best wishes, 
 and that you have them in double force, possessing such 
 feelings of honour as I know you to do, and as I con- 
 sider you a persecuted and virtuous creature ; and pray, 
 my dear Mary, persevere in the honourable course
 
 Xviii MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 which I have always felt assured you have pursued, 
 and the result must, under Providence, end in your 
 happiness here and hereafter. 
 
 " Believe me, yours very affectionately, 
 
 " Robert Kerr." 
 
 Edinbro', May, 1830. 
 
 At another time Lord Robert Kerr wrote as follows : — 
 
 " I cannot sufficiently express my feelings, my dear 
 Mary, at the manner in which you have been persecuted.* 
 I could wish you to get some respectable and benevolent 
 person in your neighbourhood, to espouse your cause. 
 God knows, you should not want a defender if I could 
 leave my family, but you know how impossible it is at 
 this time of severe sickness here (Edinburgh)." 
 
 And on another occasion of oppression. Lord R. Kerr's 
 truly noble and humane feelings prompted him to offer to 
 come from Scotland to my assistance ; when, however, 
 I described to him the character and situations of my 
 heartless, cowardly persecutors, he was contented to 
 address a Gentleman on the subject. 
 
 * See the Appeal to the Creditors.
 
 MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. XIX 
 
 And indeed of all the actions of my life, I have the most 
 
 to blush for the notice I myself took of that contemptible 
 
 affair. 
 
 " Le bruit est pour le fat, la plainte pour le sot, 
 L'honnete homme trompe s'eloigne et ne dit mot." 
 
 That- Gentleman's answer to Lord R. Kerr's letter was 
 as follows : — 
 
 " My Lord, 
 
 " It was not through any disrespect to your 
 Lordship, or from any unwillingness to do justice to 
 Mrs. Hart's merits, that your Lordship's letter has so 
 long remained unanswered. 
 
 " I beg to assure your Lordship it would give me the 
 greatest pleasure, to contribute to Mrs. Hart's comfort 
 and happiness ; that I consider her incapable of an un- 
 worthy action, and regret extremely that my daughters 
 were deprived of the pleasure, satisfaction, and benefit, 
 they derived froni'her society. 
 
 " I have the honour to remain, 
 
 " My Lord, 
 
 " Your Lordship's obedient servant, 
 
 ** P. S. I beg your Lordship will forward this to 
 Mrs. Hart." 
 
 B 2
 
 XX MEMOIR or THE AUTHOR. 
 
 The author's name is discarded from these pages, and 
 consigned, with all the venom intended to fall on a defence- 
 less woman, to the muddy channel which engendered it. 
 
 I will now introduce the Appeal which I was com- 
 pelled, bv ill usage, to make to my hxisband's creditors. 
 
 TO THE CREDITORS OF MR. HART, JUN. 
 
 Gentlemen, 
 
 About nine years ago a legacy of 50/. 
 came to me from a near relation. By the advice of 
 friends, who had reason to suspect my husband's pro- 
 perty was by no means equal to what had been repre- 
 sented, I placed this legacy in a Saving Bank: some 
 time afterwards my husband was declared a bankrupt 
 and a lunatic ! 
 
 If I committed a breach of honour in not taking this 
 money out of the Bank to cast at the feet of my 
 husband's creditors, I am ready to bear the conse- 
 quences.— But — what mother left with two helpless and 
 more than orphaned children, would have given up a 
 little sum so peculiarlj/ her oivn imder such circum- 
 stances ?— Nay, might not the offer of it have been 
 deemed almost an insult on my part ! 
 
 When the 50/. had accumulated to 68/. I lent it to a 
 Friend in distress, who gave me a Note of Hand for it.
 
 MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. XXI 
 
 At length, becoming destitute of any other resource 
 than that in the hands of this Friend, I accepted the offer 
 of himself and his wife to board with them ; when I had 
 been with them about a month, I lost the Note of Hand 
 — I lost it on their premises. 
 
 Numerous respectable evidences to support my state- 
 ment, Slaving at length compelled Friend Farrand to 
 acknowledge that I did lend him 68/. (although he had 
 repeatedly denied it) he has promised to pay it by instal- 
 ments into the hands of your Solicitor for you ! 
 
 There are few among you I think who will be inclined 
 to sanction so flagranj; a breach of friendship, by accept- 
 ing a penny of this ill-earned prize — and still fewer, I 
 trust, who will not feel your own losses slightly allevi- 
 ated, in thus being afforded an opportunity of succouring 
 the widow and fatherless, and averting the barbarous 
 stroke intended to fall upon unsheltered heads ! It has 
 however become a duty on my part to ask for your deci- 
 sion on the subject; and a list for your signatures to that 
 effect, may be found at my lodgings, where I shall be 
 happy to give you every explanation you may require, in 
 connexion with what has been advanced by the cruel 
 and vindictive Quakers, whom 1 had trusted and helped 
 to establish in a flourishing business. 
 
 Permit me to say, my marriage portion, 1000/. (which 
 I believed settled upon myself,) was allotted to your 
 claims : sincerely do 1 wish that little sum had proved
 
 XXll MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 equivalent to such claims. Its deficiency, however, you 
 are too liberal to construe into blame on the part of one, 
 more injured and deceived than yourselves— and bereft of 
 all that gives life a value, with the exception of that 
 courage which always supports an innocent victim ! 
 
 The outlines of my most wretched case must be known 
 to you : — 
 
 Above a hundred miles from every friend who knew 
 my early respectability and the tenderness of my bringing 
 up, I have been misjudged and misrepresented — and I am 
 up to the present day, almost a stranger in this unfriendly 
 soil, and as helplessly struggling with every kind of 
 wrong and oppression, as if I had not even a connexion 
 in the county : Treachery, Cowardice and Persecution, 
 having pursued me with a perseverance ascribable to 
 nothing less than a fatality ! That which has supported 
 my miserable existence for many years, has been be- 
 stowed by the hand of distant friends (see Subscription 
 Lists, &c.), without the advantage of one penny, or the 
 atoning solace of one civility, from my unfortunate hus- 
 band's family ! 
 
 But as I wish to trust more to your generosity than 
 your compassion, I will restrain the inclination natural to 
 misfortune, to dwell on its images, and in conclusion 
 insert an extract from a letter written by Friend Farrand 
 only a week or two before I asked him for my money, 
 " Esteemed Friend, I know how muck thou hast been con-
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE AUTHOR. XXUl 
 
 cerned for our mutual friend Mrs. Hart, and thou knowest 
 that my wfe and self are also her sincere friends. Indeed 
 it is no wonder that any one who really knows her, and the 
 calamitous circumstances attending her life should he disposed 
 to ameliorate her sufferings : she, being destitute, we have taken 
 her under our roof for the present — her case is desperate — she 
 cannot live on air and water, something must be done — ive 
 feel greatly for her." 
 
 I am, Gentlemen, 
 
 Your obedient servant, 
 Feh. 1629. M. K. HART. 
 
 When I assert that the foregoing appeal to my hus- 
 band's creditors was made in vain, I beg it may be un- 
 derstood they were not deaf or hardened to my com- 
 plaint ; on the contrary, I am happy in the opportunity 
 afforded me to record their generous resignation of the 
 money in my favour : yet, the appeal may be said to have 
 been fruitless ; for, I have heard within the last few 
 weeks, that the person to whom I lent the money, after 
 having used it three years and a half, has declared that 
 he will only pay 50/. (5/. per month) into the hands of 
 the assignees. 
 
 *****
 
 XXIV MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 May this humble volume fall into the hand of some 
 friend to the oppressed, who will investigate the case, and 
 endeavour to redress the injury! 
 
 Fortunately one of the assignees has a proper sense of 
 the transaction. 
 
 • # * # * 
 
 I shall conclude this Memoir, with a few lines written 
 on the subject. 
 
 Distress the sole lot of the poor injur'd one, 
 
 The victim of malice and gain ! 
 Without friend or shelter — defenceless, alone, 
 
 Shall one shadow of comfort remain, 
 
 To brighten her path through the wilderness here — 
 
 Her path hiow7i with thorns to abound ? 
 Yes — God holds the scales! — then be banish'd each fear, 
 
 And be hush'd ev'rj murmuring sound. 
 
 Peace plays not among the malignant's low joys, 
 
 Nor hallows the pillow that's press'd 
 By robber of widow and fatherless boys ! 
 
 Or by scorner of — Woman oppress'd !
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page. 
 
 Sk^tc h 29 
 
 Lavenham Church : 37 
 
 Early Youth 39 
 
 School Friendship 41 
 
 Lines in my Prayer Book 43 
 
 The Suckling ' 44 
 
 Compassion 47 
 
 Enigma 48 
 
 The Finished Coxcomb 49 
 
 The Halcyon Nest 52 
 
 Hedge Blossoms 54 
 
 On Visiting Brenteleigh Hall 57 
 
 To the Lady who Educated Me GO 
 
 The Tear of Gratitude 62 
 
 A Walk to Cornard 64 
 
 A Definition 66
 
 XXVI CONTENTS. 
 
 Page. 
 
 The Blackbird's Note 67 
 
 To the Moon 69 
 
 The Suicide's Grave 70 
 
 To 72 
 
 Written in Illness, and a prospect of Death 73 
 
 Oh ! happy, 'ere surrendered quite 75 
 
 Byron ! Where is He ! 76 
 
 The Vine 77 
 
 The Tear on a Widow's Cheek , 79 
 
 The Dimmed Star 80 
 
 To 82 
 
 It is Well ! 84 
 
 Music 86 
 
 Written during my Son's Illness 87 
 
 La Feuille 88 
 
 The Translation 89 
 
 It came like the Music, &c <• 90 
 
 The Hearts-ease • 91 
 
 Twilight 93 
 
 To Miss Bird 95 
 
 To a Coxcomb 96 
 
 To a Person, &c. &,c 98 
 
 The Tear 99 
 
 Enigma 100
 
 CONTENTiS. XXVII 
 
 Page. 
 
 Sir Scythe 101 
 
 Enigma 1 04 
 
 To a Ruin 105 
 
 Lines on a Lock of Miss Byron's Hair 106 
 
 Answer to a Letter 108 
 
 To the diminutive Mademoiselle De M 109 
 
 Acrostic 110 
 
 Enigme Ill 
 
 To W. M., Esq 112 
 
 To the Head of a Noble Family 115 
 
 To 116 
 
 Enigme 117 
 
 To an Enemy 118 
 
 To my Pillow 121 
 
 The Miller's Boy 123 
 
 Lines on James Reed, Esq., of Ipswich 126 
 
 Years — years ago, a sad farewell 128
 
 POEMS. 
 
 A SKETCH. 
 
 Why groan 'd the earth 
 At Mary's birth 
 
 In her beautiful mother's ear ? 
 On record high 
 The joy-lit eye 
 
 Wakes to welcome the infant here? 
 
 What finger flung 
 Its touch among 
 
 The loose strino-s of the broken Ivre ? 
 Why wore the moon 
 That night so soon 
 
 Twilight's tear, with u blush of fire?
 
 30 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 Maternal sighs 
 Might hush its cries. 
 
 But her smile the poor babe ne'er knew;- 
 •• The welcome tomb, 
 '* Its shade and gloom, 
 
 " With its deep and dark bow'r of yew. 
 
 " Be now my bed," 
 The mourner said. 
 
 When the infant with smiles would plead : 
 But no smile more 
 True gladness wore — 
 
 Her young heart, while on earth, must bleed. 
 
 The dainty tomb 
 Enjoy 'd her bloom. 
 
 But refus'd the green bud with scorn. 
 But mercy's ray 
 Dries tears away. 
 
 As the sun dries the dews of morn.
 
 POEMS. 31 
 
 And Mary grew, 
 With eye of blue 
 
 Lighted up at the torch of joy. 
 In childhood's eye. 
 Life's canopy 
 
 Is a brilHant unchanging toy ! 
 
 As moonlight steals 
 O'er ev'ning fields. 
 
 So fair childhood with sweet youth blends. 
 New life and charm 
 The spirits warm. 
 
 And rich fancy her storehouse lends. 
 
 Oh ! moonlight's gleam 
 ('Tis nature's dream,) 
 
 Flings enchantment around.-— On youlh 
 The mystic hour 
 [mprints a pow'r. 
 
 Mingling harmony, love, and truth.
 
 32 POEMS. 
 
 Those shadows flew. 
 And Mary knew 
 
 Disappointment's cold chill and blight; 
 And Hope's warm ray 
 Died quite away, 
 
 Bearing ^^ith it, her heait's best light ! 
 
 Indulgence mild 
 Had bless'd the child. 
 
 The first shock of fate was repell'd ; 
 (By flinty rocks. 
 Or marble blocks. 
 
 As the axe blow in scorn is held.) 
 
 It came, it came. 
 In floods of flame — 
 
 The meed, due to souls that rebel- 
 It glar'd with red. 
 As on the head 
 
 Of the maiden, the firebrand fell !
 
 POEMS, 33 
 
 The prophecy 
 Of years gone by. 
 
 Thus fulfiird, hung her flag in th' air ; 
 With woe-stains dy'd. 
 From side to side. 
 
 And the hlush e'en of birth was there T- — 
 
 That earthly stain. 
 Ne'er felt till then, 
 
 Call'd a groan from the dead below ; 
 And statrnant stood 
 The tide of blood. 
 
 Although noble its source and flow. 
 
 The thorny path 
 Some shelter hath. 
 
 If it wind through the forest wide ; 
 The low thorn there 
 The foot will tear, 
 
 But the tow'rinjr trees will hide 
 
 o 
 
 C
 
 34 POEMS. 
 
 The soul's deep care. 
 And aid its pray'r, 
 
 Breathing balm to the fever'd breast : 
 But where 's balm found 
 For that black wound 
 
 Darkly hurl'd from the serpent's nest ? 
 
 When pity's tide 
 Is petrifi'd, 
 
 And the wanderer doora'd to roam 
 Through life's parch'd way. 
 By night and day. 
 
 And can nowhere light on a home ! 
 
 When cold eyes wear 
 The gaze and sneer. 
 
 And exulting the arrows fly : 
 The heart they shock 
 Is not a rock 
 
 To repel inhumanity ;
 
 POEMS. 35 
 
 Though steel'd it be 
 To poverty. 
 
 And its hundreds of ills beside. 
 The alter'd eye 
 Turn'd languidly, 
 
 In false candour's disguise — to chide 
 
 Calls up again. 
 
 Through breast and brain. 
 
 The deep pang that was slumb'ring on ; 
 The worm will turn 
 When trodden on 
 
 By the foot link' d with heart of stone. 
 
 Oh ! mighty ones 
 
 Of earth's coarse sons. 
 
 Under burdens of pride and gold. 
 Turn, turn your eyes 
 And read the skies. 
 
 And the lessons those volumes hold, — 
 c2
 
 36 POEMS. 
 
 There " temper'd winds 
 " The shorn lamb finds," 
 
 And they play on the care-worn breast ; 
 And gales of love 
 Blow from above 
 
 Healing balm for the heart oppress'd !
 
 POEMS. 37 
 
 LAVENHAM CHURCH, 
 
 REMARKABLE FOR ITS SIZE AND ISOLATED BEAUTY. 
 
 Noble edifice ! image and specimen rare 
 
 Of most exquisite beauty — so perfect, so fair, 
 
 So enrich'd and aggrandiz'd by touches of time. 
 
 That thou soar'st from the tombs, like a spirit sublime ! 
 
 The historian of ages defying their sweep. 
 
 Thou hast seen generations through life's journey creep, 
 
 And beneath thy old walls come and crumble to dust; 
 
 Though thyself art sublim'd by Time's ravage and rust! 
 
 The proud oak, thy coeval, is swept from the land — 
 
 Of the mansion, that grandeur and human pride plann'd. 
 
 Not a vestige remaineth, not even a stone; 
 
 And e'en the oak's offspring has flourish'd and gone. 
 
 Like the rose 'mid ice-regions, thou stand'sthere alone; 
 
 Or beneath solar pow'r — like a shadow at noon : 
 
 Or, as lonely and fair, like the queen of the night 
 
 O'er the wilderness shedding her beautiful light !
 
 38 POEMS. 
 
 And thou look'st from thy throne a sovereign in smiles, 
 
 As in pity thou markest the glare that beguiles, 
 
 And the false worldly glow that feeds man's wish to rise 
 
 Through his life-span ! — unfitting him quite for the skies. 
 
 For his own native skies, if like thee, noble pile. 
 
 He would turn and adore them, and meet their warm 
 
 smile — 
 Though the worm at thy base, here his brother may be — 
 Like thy tow'r shall his spirit rise ample and free ; 
 Heaven's gate wilt thou open (that portal divine,) 
 
 For Eternity's key ! — it is thine—it is thine !,
 
 POEMS. 39 
 
 EARLY YOUTH. 
 
 "Oh Primavera ! gioventu dell' anno. 
 Oh Gioventu ! primavera della vita." 
 
 The canopy above thy head, 
 
 . Is Heaven's face in smiles ; 
 The grass o'er which thy glad feet tread. 
 An Eden's path, all flowered 
 Thy glowing fancy styles. 
 
 The silver and mellifluous stream. 
 Enchants thine ear and eye ; 
 And birds, and woods, and valleys, seem 
 To mingle music with the dream, 
 (A spirit's melody !)
 
 40 POEMS. 
 
 Away — away — life's holiday, 
 
 Is fleetly gliding by ; 
 Enjoy the transient blush of May, 
 And 'mid the laughing hills, the lay 
 Of Zephyr's minstrelsy. 
 
 Regardless of the sigh that blends 
 
 A warning with the strain ; 
 Oh! drink the sweet draught Nature lends, 
 Oh ! take the moment's j 01/ she sends. 
 
 Unmix' d for once with pain !
 
 .<^ 
 
 POEMS. 41 
 
 SCHOOL FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 " O divine amitie, felicite parfaite 
 
 Seul mouvement de Tame ou 1' exces soit permis." 
 
 Hail Friendship ! school Friendship, tho' sages disown 
 thee. 
 
 And style thee the brain-heated phantom of youth ; 
 One vot'rist thou hast, who will gratefully own thee. 
 
 The sweet 'ner of life ! and the nursling of truth ! 
 
 If ought be here more than the gleanings or shadows 
 Of happiness' substance, or joy's native field. 
 
 It flows from thy source, winding through the sweet 
 meadows 
 Of memory ! — stealing the fragrance they yield.
 
 42 POEMS. 
 
 The fragrance, that day-spring, and first-rays of sun- 
 shine, 
 (With hope blossoms mingled,) threw round at thy 
 birth ; 
 Oh Friendship ! 'tis dear thus to smell thy sweet wood- 
 bine, 
 And violets — when thrown on the ice-bergs of earth ! 
 
 Thy fruits* too to taste, in their ripe rich perfection. 
 Allaying the fever that preys on the breast ; 
 
 Hail, rock of the desert ! — noblest source of affection. 
 That healest and luUest the sufF'rer to rest. 
 
 No sympathy owning with Lethean river. 
 
 Thy waters gain beauty and strength from Time's 
 course ; 
 
 Deep — deep — pure and sweet, in its channel runs ever 
 (Remembrance's mirror!) — thy all-hallow 'd source- 
 
 * Some years ago, the sum of 70l. was subscribed for my use when in 
 great distress, by my schoolfellows.
 
 POEMS. 43 
 
 WRITTEN IN MY PRAYER BOOK: 
 
 GIVEN ME TWENTY YEARS AUO, BY LORD C. KERR. 
 
 Blessed Book, thou art left, though the giver be 
 
 gone ; 
 How in thee hath fraternal love twenty years shone, 
 
 Mingling rays with those rays of delight, 
 When the bosom at Sabbath's all-hallow'd return. 
 With the rapture that's purest and holiest will burn. 
 
 And feels all its best movements unite. 
 
 But 'tis past — oh 'tis past — and if those bereav'd years 
 Trace on Memory's tableture nothing but tears. 
 
 Yet my Book, let me bless thee again ; 
 In thy page I may find the all mortals may crave, 
 I may learn to disarm of its dread the dark grave. 
 
 And glean love, hope, and blessing, from pain.
 
 44 POEMS. 
 
 THE SUCKLING, 
 
 BABE AT THE BREAST. 
 
 Nature's balmiest kiss, 
 
 Her true impulse of bliss, 
 Is the Mother's, when snatch'd to her breast 
 
 Is the child of her love ; 
 
 'Tis from Heaven above. 
 The sweet foretaste of joy and of rest. 
 
 The cold scorn of the proud. 
 
 And adversity's cloud 
 May o'ershadow, and threaten, and low'r ; 
 
 But the Mother's calm eye. 
 
 Can these threat'nings defy. 
 She but presses her infant the more.
 
 POEMS. 45 
 
 'Tis consummated joy. 
 
 Which no storm can destroy, 
 'Tis life's moment that's free from alarms ! 
 
 The loud whirlwind may shock, 
 
 Earth itself e'en may rock, — 
 Her whole world's in the Mother's fond arms ! 
 
 So the suckling in spring, 
 To the hawthorn will cling, 
 
 Its supporter — sustainer — its all ; 
 Their embrace is so fast. 
 It defies the rude blast. 
 
 With the suckling, the hawthorn will fall. 
 
 Let the elements howl. 
 And the proud ocean roll, 
 
 They may shake, but they cannot unlink ; 
 The babe's lock'd at the breast. 
 And maternally press'd ! 
 
 If they sink, they together will sink.
 
 46 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 Thus enwreath'd, even Death 
 
 Claims in mildness their breath. 
 Both divested of frown and of sting ; 
 
 Their watery grave, 
 
 Is a bed in the wave, 
 And the billows their lullaby sing!
 
 roEMS 47 
 
 COMPASSION. 
 
 When Earth lies parch'd by solar pow'r, 
 How welcome is cool Ev'ning's hour; 
 As welcome, when to grief is giv'n. 
 Compassion's tear — the dew of Heav'n ! 
 Sweet Eve's refreshing dews return, 
 Untir'd, they chase the rays of Morn ; 
 But Mercy's fountain 's rarely found,* 
 And here flows idly — 'tis ice-bound ! 
 
 * Gratitude induces me to state, that the above lines were written before 
 I had visited Ipswich ; where I met with the most humane and generous at- 
 tention.
 
 48 POKMS. 
 
 ENIGMA. 
 
 Though born in dark ages, it triumphs in this. 
 
 Though ever in sorrow, it revels in bliss : 
 
 Though earth owns it not, and the moon scorns its aid. 
 
 Without it, the stars, and the bright sun would fade : 
 
 Though no man can feel it, his children or wife, 
 
 To the son of his father it minister'd life : 
 
 Disdaining the single lot, widow, or maid. 
 
 It crowneth the couples by Hymen's bands made. 
 
 O'er husbands it reigns, in their spouses 'tis seen, 
 
 (Th' omega and alpha,) and feedeth their spleen : 
 
 In forests it towers, and tops all the trees. 
 
 To th' heir gives possession — and multiplies bees. 
 
 In flowers of jess'mine it basketh indeed ; 
 
 Its buds, and its blossoms, its scent, and its seed : 
 
 Despising the lonely, to numbers gives strength. 
 
 And (strange !) to a woman's tongue loves to add length ! 
 
 It smiles in the tempest, is lost in the calm ; 
 
 In turbulent seas, finding shelter and balm. 
 
 Of the soul 'tis the essence — the body it flies — 
 
 For its home's not on earth — it inhabits the skies !
 
 POE>rs. 49 
 
 THE 
 
 FINISHED COXCOMB. 
 
 " My pastime was to win their young and tender love. 
 Then break the heart I won, and straight to others rove." 
 
 He will tell you, fair maidens, young widows, and wives. 
 With a sweetness match'd only in Hyblean hives. 
 
 And with majesty's manner and tone, 
 That long years pass'd in silence, in anguish, and pain. 
 He has linger'd — that peace can be his ne'er again. 
 
 For he lives — he breathes only for — one ! 
 
 To the widow soft gallantry blends with the sigh — • 
 With the wife he will weapons of sophistry try — 
 
 With the maid ply the chords of the heart: 
 He will say in the battle's heat, glory, and gore, 
 That the foremost was he — and what feather he wore^ 
 
 And the air, that such feathers impart !
 
 50 POEMS. 
 
 To the widow this tale. — To the wife more disguise. 
 First morahty praises, then — solemnly sighs ; 
 
 But, ye critics, think not that he loves ; 
 Like the wasp, that unworthy and glittering thing, 
 His sole aim is to flutter, and flourish, and sting. 
 
 Then in new plumes to wing through the groves ; 
 
 To where fresh and new beauties the scene may disclose ; 
 (To the groves— not the valleys, his triumph he owes !) 
 
 For so painted is vanity's wing, 
 That it hides ev'ry blemish of nature, and breeds 
 Such importance and pride and conceit — Oh ! it heeds, 
 
 Not the vales where but wild flowers spring ! 
 
 Parks and gardens his pastures, and high lands his soil. 
 And the heart cas'd in virtue and science his spoil, 
 
 Nought too good for his Honour he deems. 
 And o'er aught that's offensive, his learning can throw 
 Such refinement of shade — such a delicate glow — 
 
 That fair innocence' guardian he seems !
 
 POEMS. 51 
 
 Beware then, ye fair, of this hypocrite's lore ; 
 Though he's aged, no matter, he'll try but the more 
 
 To imprint his base sting in your heart : 
 Then he'll hang a new plume o'er his dastardly brow, 
 Taking 4eave with a very magnificent bow. 
 
 And be off — more such wounds to impart ! 
 
 D 2
 
 52 POEMS. 
 
 THE HALCYON NEST. 
 
 "L'Esperance toute trompeuse qu'elle est sert au moins a nous mener 
 a la fin de la vie par un chemin agreeable." 
 
 I HAVE been where the golden cup graces the board — 
 And where greatness and splendour appear 
 
 To have planted their standard, and rest on the sword- 
 But I found not the Halcyon nest here. 
 
 I have been where fair competence, honour, and truth, 
 
 And affection their sweet blossoms rear, 
 But a blight had crept into that garden of youth — 
 
 And I found not the Halcyon nest here. 
 
 I have been to the cottage where fond woodbine creeps, 
 And where industry wakes with its tear, 
 
 (That sweet drop of the dawn which 'mid fragrance it weeps) 
 But I found not the Halcvon nest here.
 
 POEMS. 53 
 
 I have been to the hut, where with labour and rest. 
 The poor tenant plods through the dull year, 
 
 And I thought that at last I had found the peace nest — 
 But alas! I was told, 'twas not here. 
 
 Then I turn'd to the garlanded bower of love, 
 Lighted up with the smile and the tear 
 
 Of fond ecstacy, borrowing beams from above — 
 But I found not the Halcyon nest here. 
 
 Then Philosophy surely has stolen the nest. 
 Though to scorn earthly ease she appear, 
 
 But the pillow was hard by Philosophy press'd — 
 And I found not the Halcyon nest here. 
 
 Then lone Hope caught my eye : with a look of appeal 
 Fix'd on Heaven ! — Heaven's smile wak'd the tear : 
 
 And I found in that tear the all mortals may feel 
 Of the Halcyon peacefulness here !
 
 54 POEMS. 
 
 HEDGE BLOSSOMS. 
 
 " II piu infelicefra gli nomini e quegli che crede d'esserlo." 
 " Je vis contente et suis heureuse puisque je crois I'etre." 
 
 When my path led through gardens of lilies and roses, 
 
 And the flowers of every hue, 
 How I lov'd the green lane, where rich nature discloses 
 
 Her wild charms — where the Hedge blossom blew. 
 
 Oh ! how tame seem'd each beauty — how languid the 
 culture 
 Of the loveliest flower that grew, 
 Oh ! how poor seem'd each scent — unrefreshing the 
 verdure, 
 To the fragrance the Hedge blossom threw !
 
 POEMS. 55 
 
 As the years roll'd away, when vicissitude's sickle, 
 And the rough blast of baneful mildew 
 
 Had swept over the garden : and destiny fickle 
 
 Left the vale, where but Hedge blossoms grew ! 
 
 Wav'ring Fancy arous'd, stole the feature of gladness, 
 (As the sun steals dawn's moment of dew) 
 
 From the valley — and with a dark shadow of sadness 
 Hung the wild, where the Hedge blossom blew ! 
 
 And thus tinted, imagined, thro' calm and rough weather, 
 Will life glide with its ebbs and its flows; 
 
 Again aid me. Content, then a nosegay to gather 
 In the vale where the Hedge blossom blows. 
 
 And when wreath'd, o'er Philosophy's brow let me 
 throw it. 
 
 While I bow to that power below. 
 Even feeling, and pride, will admire and know it; 
 
 It was wreath'd where the Hedge blossoms blow.
 
 56 POEMS. 
 
 Away then be borne memory's sigh and hope's longing 
 For the charms that the garden bestows; 
 
 Be that peacefulness mine, to pure nature belonging. 
 And my home, — where the Hedge blossom grows.
 
 POEMS. , 57 
 
 ON 
 
 VISITING BRENTELEIGH HALL, 
 
 AND BEING TOLD THAT THE SHRUBS ABOOT THE WINDOWS WERE 
 
 PLANTED BY LADY C — B — ; PARTICULARLY THE WHITE 
 
 JESSAMINE IN GREAT PROFUSION. 
 
 Earth's highest station ends in " Here he lies," 
 And " dust to dust !" concludes her noblest song. 
 
 Young. 
 
 When my eye drank the pure draught of wood, vale, and 
 water, 
 
 Over Brenteleigh's thick foliag'd hill. 
 And I thought of the blossom of * * * * 's fair daughter. 
 
 There crept over my frame a slight chill. 
 
 As in fancy I saw the fond child* wreathe a garland. 
 
 Of the darkly green-leav'd jessamine ; 
 While she tearfully utter'd, " A foreign and far land 
 
 " Was the birth-place of young Catherine." 
 
 * This amiable child was under my care for a short time.
 
 58 POEMS. 
 
 " Though 'twas planted, this seedling, with flow'rs of 
 such whiteness, 
 " By the hand of my parent alone, 
 " When prosperity's sun shone in splendour and bright- 
 ness, 
 " And this garden of sweets was her own!" 
 
 But the next breeze that blew, bore the gentle repining 
 
 From this Innocent's breast far away. 
 And the buoyance of childhood, with high blood com- 
 bining. 
 
 Lent her pale cheek the roses of May, 
 
 And her light foot the swiftness and fleetness of pleasure. 
 
 As it bounded across the smooth lawn : 
 The first breathing of morn was not sweeter or fresher. 
 
 Nor more lovely the first blush of dawn. 
 
 If the rose, or the lily, or proud myrtle flower. 
 Caught a moment her soul-lit blue eye ; 
 
 She would kiss the green sprig she had pluck'd at the 
 bower. 
 And intwinc it intuitively
 
 POEMS. 59 
 
 In her light clust'ring hair, 'twas the sprig from the 
 bower — 
 
 From the bower to maternal love dear; 
 And a coronet it seem'd — (that delicate flower,) 
 
 Of white pearls, and green emeralds there ! 
 
 Be thy course thro' life's garden, illustrious stranger, 
 
 As my fancy has imag'd thee now ; 
 May the sprig that's divested of thorn and of danger, 
 
 (The lov'd jessamine,) bloom on thy brow. 
 
 To thy family honours, if fate should restore thee. 
 Oh ! no gem will become thee so well. 
 
 As the innocent chaplet, that feeling threw o'er thee, 
 In thy musings on Brenteleigh hill !
 
 60 POEMS. 
 
 TO 
 
 THE LADY WHO EDUCATED ME, 
 
 AT CASTLE HILL HOUSE, READING. 
 
 " Could e'en an angel's voice, one doubt instill, 
 
 When all our wisdom was distrust of ill ?" 
 
 Arab. Rowdem. 
 
 And dost thou, lady, still behold 
 Each grace of mind and form unfold ? 
 And does thy wonted smile call forth, 
 And foster still the charms of youth ? — 
 Or does thy disappointed eye, 
 Steep'd in tears of sympathy. 
 In languor rest upon thy care, 
 And ask, where thy oidfav'rites are ! 
 Those buds of promise ! where are they ; 
 Rear'd in refinement's nursery. 
 Some sleeping in the silent tomb. 
 And caird from thee to Heaven to bloom ;
 
 POEMS. 61 
 
 More pierc'd, alas ! and bleeding now 
 Beneath th' oppressor's cruel blow : 
 Or hurried on by wild despair, 
 To find destruction ev'ry where : 
 >And many — many — all, alas ! 
 Demand, in pain and bitterness. 
 That bright, all bright and glowing sky. 
 Which form'd their youthful canopy !
 
 62 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 THE 
 
 TEAR OF GRATITUDE. 
 
 ADDRESSED TO Dn. DRAKE : 
 Who had " wak'd the tear 'tis luxury to shed." 
 
 Frien d of th' unfriended struggling one. 
 How oft thy feeling page hath won 
 
 The tear, — that starting, — heal'd 
 Heart press'd beneath the gnawing goad 
 Of dire oppression's baneful load. 
 
 Till then — to softness steel'd ! 
 
 Thine — thine the taste, that brought relief 
 To e'en the stubborn soul of grief : 
 
 Thy page, the transcript true 
 Of mind, that heaven's chords can reach — 
 Of mind, — that seraphs love to teach 
 
 Their chords — and touches too!
 
 POEMS. 63 
 
 And noiv, the tear of ecstacy 
 Illumes this long benighted eye ; 
 
 Like star 'mid tempest's gloom. 
 Oh ! hail'd be that lone glist'ning light, 
 That rises on affliction's nigbt, 
 
 As eve's primroses bloom ! 
 
 When all around is dark and still. 
 And twilight's spirit from the hill 
 
 Hath glided quite away — 
 Oh ! there be hearts that feel that hour. 
 Admire the wakeful primrose flow'r. 
 
 And love the lone star's ray. 
 
 And blessed be the heart that feels — 
 
 The eye that soothes — the hand that heals : — 
 
 That heart — that hand — that eye. 
 Is thine ! — this tribute then accept — 
 It flows from eyes that long have wept — 
 
 But — tears of agony !
 
 64 POEMS. 
 
 ON 
 
 A WALK TO CORNARD. 
 
 The sun shines bright 
 On Cornard height. 
 
 In calm unclouded splendour; 
 And beauty breathes 
 O'er meads and fields. 
 
 With tints as warm and tender, 
 As when the place 
 A charm and grace 
 
 From friendship's glow might borrow; 
 When hearts beat high 
 In harmony. 
 
 And had not dreamt of sorrow. 
 And nature wears 
 No trace of tears. 
 
 For all the mingled seeming. 
 In this fair scene : 
 The leaf as green ! 
 
 The flowers as richly beaming !
 
 POEMS. 65 
 
 As if no share 
 Of blanching care 
 
 The once bright locks had sprinkled ; 
 And oh ! as if 
 No blighting grief 
 
 The once smooth brow had wrinkled .'
 
 66 POEMS, 
 
 DEFINITION. 
 
 No man without high birth can be 
 A Gentleman indeed : 
 
 Yet some of very high degree 
 May seem of lowest breed.
 
 POEMS. 67 
 
 THE 
 
 BLACKBIRD'S NOTE. 
 
 -Nessun maggior dolore. 
 
 Che ricordarsi de tempo felice nella miseria !'' 
 
 Ah ! the note of the Blackbird— oh! hush it— oh ! hush: 
 
 'Tis a note which I now cannot bear. 
 For the strong tide of memory with it will rush, 
 
 Overflowing the heart through the ear. 
 
 'Twas the bird that my father lov'd, cherish'd, and fed ; 
 
 And whose ev'ning of life it would cheer. 
 With its song from the old Thorn,* its beautiful bed. 
 
 And its green home for many a year ! 
 
 • A celebrated thorn in Lord L. 's garden at Farnham, much prized by him, 
 both for its size, age, and beauty ; and the yearly return of a favourite black- 
 bird to its nest there. 
 
 e2
 
 68 POEMS. 
 
 And if ever on that fond brow linger'd a frown, 
 My young foot had in heedlessness stray'd, 
 
 Where the Thorn its white blossoms was showering down, 
 Shedding lustre within its broad shade. 
 
 Then oh ! ask not what flings that rich note on my ear. 
 Like the zephyr-flung knell of the dead, 
 
 Or why hitter tears down this sad haggard cheek roll — 
 'Tis the spirit of happy years fled ! 
 
 And through summers sixteen, hath each year hung its 
 shroud 
 
 O'er the sound, adding weight to its woe : 
 Oh ! thus bannered, it flings its note hollow and loud. 
 
 And calls sorrow to sit on my brow ! 
 
 The sweet Blackbird's blithe whistle, in mercy, then 
 hush; — 
 
 Oh ! be silenc'd, the music of youth : 
 Or embow'r'd in a greener, and happier bush. 
 
 Sing the notes dear to love and to truth.
 
 POEMS. 69 
 
 TO THE MOON. 
 
 A SONG. 
 
 Sweet moon, sweet moon, withdraw thy ray, 
 
 Or let me turn my face away ; 
 
 For hope's wild idle dreams are past. 
 
 Since thy mild beam on me was cast ; 
 
 And with those dreams, sweet moon, is spent 
 
 Thy pow'r — that bliss to mortals lent : 
 
 That bliss of higher, nobler sphere — 
 
 That bliss, which lives not — stays not here. 
 
 Yet mutely still the eye on thee 
 
 Will gaze — though sear'd the heart may be : 
 
 For dost thou not declare the way. 
 
 That lies beyond life's little day ; 
 
 Of happy spirits borne from earth, 
 
 Still bless'd — and blessing nature's birth ; 
 
 From doubt — from sin — from sorrow freed. 
 
 From tongues that fawn — and hearts that bleed ? 
 
 Then farewell autumn's gentle moon. 
 
 And all that gilds thy earthly boon ; 
 
 To thy more native themes be giv'n 
 
 My hopes — The themes that tell of hcav'n !
 
 70 POEMS. 
 
 TH6 
 
 SUICIDE'S GRAVE. 
 
 POOR S. H. 
 
 I STOOD at the side of an unhallow'd grave, 
 
 Un-noted by stone, and by all. 
 Except what the high grass in sad emblem gave- 
 It lov'd o'er that unholy hillock to wave. 
 
 And sighing, the vagrant foot call. 
 
 Deep silence a dark startl'd look threw around. 
 
 While guarding the desolate spot ; 
 Remembrance wept tenderly over the mound. 
 While zephyrs howl'd requiems of saddening sound! 
 
 Oh ! sounds to be never forgot !
 
 POEMS. 71 
 
 In agoniz'd breathing a spirit told there, 
 
 Of stains gleaming darkly with red; 
 It told, in a whisper of wildest despair. 
 Though blended and hush'd by the stranger's low pray'r, 
 
 "There's no rest in that narrow green bed."
 
 72 POKMS. 
 
 TO 
 
 "Le Fiere Bono men crudeli degli uomini.'^ 
 
 Undermining adept in honour's fair seeming, 
 
 Fond self-loving thing ! — the earth-worm that feeds. 
 
 And that revels beneath, in the grave dark and teeming, 
 Feeds simiply— -feasts not on the bosom that bleeds! 
 
 Oh ! his harvest is rich, and it faileth him never. 
 
 Nor art, sting, or labour, that poor earth-worm needs ; 
 
 'Tis the serpent, that treacherous reptile fam'd ever. 
 That pierces — then feasts on the bosom that bleeds!
 
 POEMS. 
 
 73 
 
 WRITTEN IN ILLNESS, 
 AND A PROSPECT OF DEATH. 
 
 The artful injury, whose venom'd dart 
 
 Scarce wounds the hearing, while it stabs the heart." 
 
 'Tis o'er Death's — not o'er Life's cruel brow, 
 That the garland of pity is hung ; 
 
 Oh Death ! thy keen shaft's not the shaft of a foe, 
 To the breast that dark malice hath stung. 
 
 But forgiveness be fostered now. 
 
 And calm the last moments of life. 
 
 Uprooted resentment's deep passion and glow, 
 And silent the breathings of strife : 
 
 Too long nurs'd did they anguish beget. 
 Excluding of meekness the joys ; 
 
 Oh ! why did I fear that my God would forget 
 To plead wounded innocence' cause ?
 
 74 POEMS. 
 
 Oh ! why did oppression's rude shaft 
 
 Wound breast arm'd in consciousness steel ? 
 
 Oh ! why did I, doubting God's mercy, the draught 
 Reject? — 'Twas the draught sent to heal 
 
 Of rebellion and pride, the deep wounds. 
 To shew Heaven's wisdom divine — 
 
 Though late — that in mercy and love he abounds, 
 For, saith he not — " Vengeance is mine ?"
 
 POEMS. 
 
 75 
 
 Oh ! happy, 'ere surrendered quite 
 
 The heart — that feels, if clear and bright; 
 
 And full and true, the chords that speak, 
 
 And harmony's vibration seek ! 
 
 If manly be the hand that flings. 
 
 Its touch among those tender strings ! 
 
 Ifjine the touch, that thus would move 
 
 To notes responsive — notes of love !
 
 76 POEMS. 
 
 BYRON ! WHERE IS HE ! 
 
 " Natura il suo fece 
 e dopo ruppa la stampa." 
 
 Oh ! where 's the spark, ethereal, bright. 
 
 Transcending earth's and nature's light? 
 
 That ambient essence, hov'ring here; 
 
 That rainbow beam of smile and tear ! — 
 
 The heart is still, and cold the brow. 
 
 But where 's the lofty spirit now ? — 
 
 Of whence it came, or whither flown;. 
 
 To mortals nought can e'er be known ; 
 
 Enough for them to know is this, 
 
 (And 'tis their pride and happiness,) 
 
 That spirit, so divinely fair. 
 
 Could take their form ! — could breathe their air !
 
 POEMS. 77 
 
 THE VINE. 
 
 FROM THE GERMAN OF HERDER. 
 
 * Non encora e saggio chi non ha sentito la propria debolezza — chi non 
 sa diffidare di se medessimo" — 
 
 On the day that in beauty the trees were created, 
 They began to converse in this strain animated : 
 " 'Twas the Lord planted me," said the towering Cedar, 
 "But to be of all trees the protector and leader — " 
 Then, the shadowy Palm said, "To bless I was fashion'd. 
 To create the first glowings of rapture impassion'd — " 
 " Like the Rose among briars," the Apple-tree vaunted 
 Its rich clusters of sweets amid all the trees planted. 
 Thus they boasted — the Olive — the Fig-tree — the Myrtle, 
 But the Vine droop'd, as being unsightly, unfertile, 
 Saying, " I've neither beauty, nor honours, nor flowers. 
 Yet the Lord made me thus : —and if only green bowers 
 It be mine to o'ershadow, with bramble entwining 
 I will wreathe my young shoots without ever repining."
 
 78 POEMS. 
 
 Earth's divinity (Man) then soon after appearing, 
 Hb drew near to the Vine, in compassion, uprearing 
 Its unhonoured head — and its branches recumbent 
 He supported and propp'd : — this — with glows the warm 
 
 sun lent. 
 So encourag'd and rais'd nature's humblest offspring. 
 That in time the rich grape was its fruit and its off'ring ; 
 Now the friend and the fav'rite of man ! let it waken 
 In your hearts, joy and hope — ye forlorn ! — ye 
 
 FORSAKEN !
 
 POEMS. 79 
 
 THE TEAR 
 
 ON 
 
 A WIDOW'S CHEEK. 
 
 That glist'ning tear — that glist'ning tear. 
 It springs from fountain deep and clear ; 
 
 Though sorrow's child, 
 'Tis chasten'd, mild. 
 And stranger to the fiend despair. — 
 
 Oh ! let it steal across the cheek, 
 The eye must weep, or heart must break ; 
 
 As dew drops bless 
 The wilderness, 
 It soothes the grief too full to speak.
 
 80 POEMS. 
 
 THE DIMMED STAR. 
 
 TO MISS 
 
 "Sweet are the uses of adversity." — Shakspeare. 
 
 Though thy parents' dimm'd star be the star of thy 
 morning. 
 
 And it shine not with splendour for thee; 
 'Tis philosophy's smile that it wears with its warning, 
 
 And thy true faithful friend it would be. 
 
 It would tell of the show of meridian gladness. 
 Of the scorch'd wing of peace, if it soar ; 
 
 It would tell of a glory engendering sadness, 
 And of pleasure expose the false glare.
 
 POEMS. 81 
 
 Over life's barren valley, as well as its mountain, 
 It would trace a safe path for thy youth ; 
 
 'Twould irradiate the mead, and illumine the fountain, 
 With the genial and mild beams of truth.
 
 82 POEMS. 
 
 TO 
 
 I COULD doubt sweet May's returning, 
 Crown'd with flow'ring bush and tree, 
 
 Or the glories of June's morning,— 
 Rather than have doubted Thee ! 
 
 I could doubt rich solar brightness. 
 Moon and stars' sweet harmony. 
 
 Nightly gloom, or dawning lightness, — 
 Rather than have doubted Thee ! 
 
 I 'd conceive the plunge of mountain,- 
 
 And vast ocean's majesty 
 Depthless, and a dried up fountain. 
 
 Rather than have doubted Thee !
 
 POEMS. 83 
 
 Vessels gliding through the desert. 
 
 Tillers ploughing o'er the sea ; 
 Inconceivable to this heart,_less 
 ' Than cause for doubtins: Thee ! 
 
 But thy consummated feigning. 
 Winning tongue, and pliant knee, 
 
 Prove, alas ! that Satan 's reigning. 
 Known and prototyp'd in Thee ! 
 
 F 2
 
 84 POEMS, 
 
 IT IS WELL. 
 
 " L' ame, en Dieu contente, 
 Possede tout bien." 
 
 Oh ! the heart's golden balance of calmness and 
 buoyance. 
 Oh ! its measure of joy — who can tell? 
 When it meets 'mid the storms of life's din and 
 annoyance. 
 The soft echo of peace — " It is well !" 
 
 When to youth's, and to honour's, and beauty's 
 delusion. 
 
 It can bid without trembling, farewell ; 
 And find nothing so fitting and grateful to muse on, 
 
 As the echo of peace — " It is well !"
 
 POEMS. 85 
 
 When the scorn of the proud, and the mockings of malice, 
 
 And the blow, it unmoved, can repel ; 
 And its own proffer'd cup, quaff (that high-nectar'd 
 chalice) 
 
 Chaunting echoes of peace — " It is well !" 
 
 If it linger among the gay haunts of the living, 
 Or in vaults where the silent dead dwell. 
 
 It can feel the proud wall, and arch'd vault, alike giving 
 The soft echo of peace — " It is well !" 
 
 The proud wall may resound with the revel of gladness, 
 Let Earth's simplest ones envy its swell ; 
 
 To the heart fix'd on Heav'n, could the murmur of sadness 
 Blend with echoes of peace " It is well !" 
 
 It would steal from the crowd that Life's torrent is 
 breasting; 
 But the yew-shaded sepulchr'd cell. 
 Where " the vile cease from troubling, the weary are 
 resting," 
 Is that lov'd echo's home—" It is well I"
 
 86. POEMS. 
 
 MUSIC. 
 
 " La musique revielle les souvenirs que Ton 
 s'efforcoit d' appaisir." 
 
 Misfortune's child may turn away 
 From pleasure's glaring bright display, 
 And on the haggard cheek may glow 
 A blush at things so false and low ; 
 Amid the wreck, a calm, cold smile. 
 In vacancy may gleam awhile ; 
 Like sun-beams on the mountain snow. 
 Too weak to warm — too faint to thaw. — 
 And gold, and pow'r, and beauty's sway 
 May seem mere baubles, light and gay. 
 The heart, that 's sear'd by mental pain. 
 Can never, never, feel again 
 Or pleasure's dews, or sorrow's sting. 
 With being's nerve-born trembling, 
 If Music strike not on the soul. 
 And wake Emotion's swell and roll : 
 The sear'd heart's slumbers then will fly, 
 And rouse it into agony !
 
 POEMS. 87 
 
 WRITTEN DURING MY SON CHRISTIAN'S 
 SEVERE ILLNESS. 
 
 " A mother lives 
 In many lives— through many a nerve she feels!" 
 
 Oh ! grief — of griefs the keenest one, 
 To struggle with the cruel doom. 
 
 That marks an orphan'd, hapless son, 
 And bears him to an early tomb ! 
 
 The common cries of penury — 
 
 Of perish'd hopes— of fortune's frowns- 
 Maternal anguish casts away. 
 
 And every other grief disowns 
 
 But that full agonizing one 
 
 Which threatens to destroy her boy. 
 The sharer of her wayward doom, 
 
 Her only gleam of future joy !
 
 88 pocMs. 
 
 LA FEUILLE. 
 
 De la tige detachee 
 Pauvre feuille dessechee 
 Ou vas tu ? — je n'en sais rien, 
 L'orage a frappe le chene 
 Qui seul etoit mon soutien : 
 De son inconstante haleine 
 Le zephyr, et I'aquilon 
 Depuis ce jour, me promene 
 De la foret a la plaine, 
 De la.montagne au vallon : 
 Je vais ou va toutes choses, 
 Ou va la feuille de rose, 
 Et la feuille de I'aurier !
 
 POEMS. 89 
 
 AN ATTEMPTED 
 TRANSLATION OF THE FOREGOING LITTLE PIECE, 
 
 THE LEAF. 
 
 Forsaken, wither'd leaf, where goest thou ? 
 
 Alas ! in heedlessness I wander now ; 
 
 The rude storm hath pass'd o'er the spreading tree 
 
 Where once, in beauty and serenity, 
 
 I hung. — 'Twas all my shelter, all my stay 
 
 That cradling branch ! — and now I'm borne away 
 
 By ev'ry idle wind, or zephyr's breath. 
 
 From mountain height into the vale beneath ; 
 
 From forest to the plain : — nor mingle sigh 
 
 With that wild driving wind that passes by : — 
 
 I go, alas ! where, wither'd — sear'd, all goes — 
 
 The leaf of laurel — and the leaf of rose !
 
 90 POEMS. 
 
 It came like the music of deep distant waters. 
 
 It came like the sweet-scented gale of the east, 
 
 That soft flowing accent! of memory's daughters. 
 The fairest — the purest — the holiest — the best ; 
 
 But though 'twas the accent of tempering gladness, 
 And guarded by smiling Philosophy's train. 
 
 There lurk'd a slight mixture, — a creeping of sadness. 
 Which stole o'er the heart, too prophetic of pain ! 
 
 That embryo power (unchecking, unheeding,) 
 
 Fond hope, and self-confidence foster'd ;— and now, 
 
 Alas ! 'tis a prophecy full blown and shedding 
 Bane— withering bane, on the verdure below !
 
 POEMS. 91 
 
 THE HEARTS-EASE: 
 
 OR, 
 
 FORGET-ME-NOT. 
 
 " We know delight but by her parting smile." 
 
 As a lady and knight, lost in love's magic dream. 
 Were meand'ring along near the grove's winding stream. 
 
 Which reflected their perfected joy, 
 On the opposite bank some fair flowers disclose 
 Love's own beautiful blue — love's own couleur de rose! 
 
 'Twas a Hearts-ease's bed — (Nature's toy !) 
 
 The fair lady would wear it as love's offering, 
 (Even love has its wants, and a shade oft will fling 
 
 Where the sun's richest bliss beams can meet,) 
 The brave knight, plunging into the river's dark bed. 
 Having seiz'd them, "Forget me not, lady," he said. 
 
 As he threw them ashore at her feet !
 
 92 POEMS. 
 
 And the amorous streamlet embrac'd her true knight. 
 As it bore him away from her agoniz'd sight — 
 
 And he sunk, to ascend never more ! 
 Like a dagger, the groan, and " forget me not" sound, 
 Pierc'd her bosom ! — and echo long murmur'd it round- 
 
 And thus nam'd the " Forget me not" flow'r.
 
 POEMS. 
 
 93 
 
 TWILIGHT. 
 
 When twilight leads her veiled hour 
 To Fancy's deep ambrosial bow'r. 
 
 And ragance, steals 
 
 From flow'ry fields, 
 And freshness, from the light dew show'r,- 
 
 When husli'd is hum of lab'ring bees. 
 And slumb 'ring all, save from the trees 
 
 The lullaby 
 
 Of angels nigh. 
 Sounds fondly through the gentle breeze. 
 
 Though o'er the busy world may creep 
 Deep silence' reign, and nature's sleep, — 
 
 To that bright star, 
 
 That beameth far. 
 The Heav'n fed eye will turn, and weep—
 
 94 POEMS. 
 
 Weep tears of feeling, hope, and pray'r, 
 And bless the link that holds it there. 
 That beam divine, 
 'Mid gloom, will shine. 
 And quicken like that evening star !
 
 POEMS. 95 
 
 TO MISS BIRD. 
 
 " Th' horizon's bound was all the world we knew, ^ 
 And hope's soft pencil every image drew." 
 
 When we stray 'd hand in hand over youth's daisied 
 meadows. 
 
 Dearest Charlotte, our eyes beaming joy. 
 Oh ! did not the future's false tintings and shadows, 
 
 Promise bliss without any alloy ? 
 
 Like the sun, as he's seen thro' the mist of the morning. 
 
 Climbing gently the fair eastern sky, 
 We had felt his mild beam on our heads at his dawning, 
 
 And we fancied his glory on high : 
 
 Heeding not the thick cloud that might steal from his 
 brightness, 
 
 'Ere he reach'd the meridian hour. 
 Oh', it was the false future's, dear Charlotte, that lightness 
 
 Which enchanted our youth budding bow'r.
 
 96 POEMS. 
 
 And the garlands there vvreath'd, thence their beauty did 
 borrow : 
 E'en the daisy that sprung at our feet, 
 Seem'd the bright star, and promise of some distant 
 
 morrow. 
 Where concentred, all bliss beams would meet ! 
 
 Oh ! that point — did maturity feel it, or find it, 
 
 And expect it, and woo it to stay ? — 
 Like the bow of rich Iris— with dark clouds behind it. 
 
 Bright a moment— it then died away !
 
 4 
 
 POEMS, 97 
 
 TO A COXCOMB. 
 
 '• When Piercie Shafton boasteth high, 
 Let this weapon meet his eye." 
 
 False stroke of creation, by nature reptilian. 
 Though human in form : and, by aid of vermillion. 
 Cosmetics, wi^, whiskers, outvying in brightness 
 The sun in his course, — as the feather — in lightness — • 
 Thou feeder and fatt'ner on sycophant smiling ! 
 Thy drauglit too — thy draught — "tis nectarian, beguiling. 
 The bee sips the sweet dewy tear of the flow'r ; 
 But thy draught — thou wasp — 'tis the mocked eyes' 
 
 show'r ! 
 There's a {yxinxe, foul, fair one, where mean heart's joy 
 
 lighted 
 By mob-adulation and puff, shall be blighted — 
 There's a future, weak boaster, in vanity drenched, 
 " Where the worm dieth not, and the fire 's not 
 
 quenched !"
 
 98 POEMS. 
 
 TO A PERSON 
 
 WHO TOLD ME, WHILE IN GRIEF, ARISING FROM 
 
 THE CONDUCT OF ONE WHOM I HAD REGARDED, NOT TO 
 
 YIELD TO THE IMPULSE OF PASSION. 
 
 " Oh ! C'est un fatal present du Ciel qu'une ame sensible !" 
 
 A FEELING, keen, oppressive, deep, 
 May kindle anguish into flame; 
 
 This heart may throb — this eye may weep — 
 But Passioiis not that feeling^ s name. 
 
 A sacred tomb may friendship rear 
 
 O'er honour's fall ! the knell of fame 
 
 May find an echo lurking near — 
 
 But Passion^s not that echo's name. 
 
 The rose may fade on Feeling's brow 
 
 And all seem chang'd ; tho' all's the same, 
 
 But that one breast dishonour'd now ! — 
 But Passion's not that change's name.
 
 POEMS.' 99 
 
 THE TEAR. 
 
 Unbidden let it glide ; that tear 
 
 Though gliding o'er the cheek 
 Of youth and beauty : — 'tis the tear. 
 Which owns no kindred with despair. 
 Nor bids the heart to break. 
 
 Its fountain is a holy shrine. 
 
 It falls upon the tomb 
 Of all that gave to life and time 
 The savour of a happier clime. 
 And made this desert bloom ! 
 
 But oh ! — there is of deeper sting, 
 
 And deadlier too — a pain. 
 Which to the eye no tear can bring, 
 Nor o'er the parched heart can fling, 
 One cooling shade again ! 
 c 2
 
 \Q{) POEMS. 
 
 ENIGMA. 
 
 'Tis from that part of speech forming links of con- 
 nexion. 
 That my poor theme derives both its birth and com- 
 plexion. 
 From a common noun then its completion it borrows, 
 'Tis the thing that dispenses both pleasures and sorrows ; 
 To the lover and poet, a refuge and solace. 
 Its birth-place a barn— its grave oft a palace.— 
 'Tis the quick march of intellects' true badge and banner, 
 (Oh ! that foe to simplicity's peace, garb, and manner. 
 That distorteth the features, and honest impression 
 Of the mead, vale, and country)— but this is digression. 
 The enigma complete, 'tis the spirit of forests — 
 The romance 'tis of ages— the wonder of florists. 
 And its deep passing sigh re-echoes the story 
 Told by Tasso— of poets the sun and the glory 
 
 I
 
 POEMS. 101 
 
 SIR SCYTHE; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE REVOLUTION OF TIME. 
 
 Alexandre dit plus d'une fois " que ne puis je revenir dans trois ou quatre cans 
 ans pour entendre de quelle maniere les hommes parleront de moi." 
 
 Now it once came to pass in the spring of Time's day, 
 That he stroll'd to a city, where laurel and bay 
 
 Reach'd the buildings' roofs, splendidly gilt; 
 And he said to a maiden of seventy-four, 
 (For the ladies were young then at three or four score,) 
 
 " Pray, how long has this city been built?" 
 
 " Through my own, and my father's, and grandfather's 
 
 lives, 
 " Has this city thus flourish'd and thriv'd, as it thrives ;" 
 
 Said the maid, to the noble Sir Scythe. 
 And five hundred years after he came to its site. 
 When a wheat-field he found there, luxuriantly bright, 
 
 Fiird with harvest-men, sturdy and blithe.
 
 102 POEMS. 
 
 And he said to the reapers, " How long hath this part. 
 Thus delighted the eye, and enraptur'd the heart 
 
 With the best gift that nature can yield ?" 
 " The succession of seed-time and harvest, has blest. 
 Through long ages, this land;" — so the reapers con- 
 fess'd, 
 
 " And our forefathers gather'd this field." 
 
 And five hundred years after. Sir Scythe came again. 
 And a fine river ran where the wheat-fields had been. 
 
 " Pray, how long has it flow'd thus?" he said 
 To a party of fishermen, grouped on its side : 
 Who (the stranger's hard question not solving) replied, 
 
 " By the ancients was dug its old bed !" 
 
 And again, after five hundred years, did he come, 
 When behold I into dry land again 'twas become. 
 
 With a forest of slumbering pine. 
 And he said to a shepherd, attending his sheep, 
 " Pray how long has this place form'd a shade rich and 
 deep. 
 
 For the flocks of thy father— or thine ?"
 
 POEMS. 103 
 
 And he answered, " An old race of shepherds are we. 
 And the fair forests' nurslings, our young lambkins be. 
 
 Oh ! no flocks are so happy and blithe !" 
 
 But— gone was the shepherd's mild race, flock, and 
 
 penn. 
 With the forest! — and rais'd the proud city again, 
 
 When — (five hundred years more) — came Sir Scythe !
 
 104 POEMS. 
 
 ENIGMA. 
 
 'Tis the lanthorn and cloak of a dark winter's night 
 Give me name, when the hearts' overflowings unite : 
 Or again, 'tis the native of Alp's mountains high. 
 United with ice, when the sun's passing by. 
 And that union produces the lovliest thing. 
 Of the lovely and innocent dawnings of spring.
 
 POEMS. 105 
 
 TO A RUIN. 
 
 " Chiunque non sa soft'erire, 
 Non ha gran cuore." 
 
 High majestic Turret, frown ! 
 Frown upon a heart cast down, 
 Crush'd beneath a load of cares 
 And oppressor's deep-laid snares — 
 Banish'd be they— and let me 
 Noble ruin, copy thee ; 
 Long, as desolate and lone, 
 I have mourned '* glories gone \" 
 Let me learn of thee, to bear 
 Wintry storms, or scorching air ; 
 Resting peacefully on earth. 
 Till the seed of heav'nly birth — 
 Death— deep planted in my breast. 
 Lead to " where the weary resti"
 
 106 POEMS. 
 
 ON BEING REQUESTED TO WRITE SOME LINES, ON A 
 LOCK OF MISS BYRON'S HAIR. 
 
 " Oh ! one who had valu'd my lay, 
 
 And warm'd o'er the tale as it ran ; 
 
 To her,* e'en may venture to say. 
 
 His frailties were those of a man." — Byron. 
 
 Write verses on the lovely Ada's lock ! 
 Oh ! rather bid the adamantine block 
 Throw out the form of beauty hidden there, 
 Unchisel'd by the hand of art, or care : 
 Enchantment hovers o'er the glossy prize. 
 And mocks th' inquiry of mere mortal eyes : 
 From heights etherial — from an angel's throne, 
 From minds celestial, kindled like his own, 
 Can aught be known, of that high spirit's fire. 
 Which burn'd within the breast of Ada's sire. 
 E'en while on earth. — True — earthly minds there are 
 Can feel the charm of this bright lock of hair ; 
 Can e'en claim kindred ties with Byron's soul ; 
 Can be a Byron's part — but not the whole ! 
 
 * His daughter.
 
 POEMS. 107 
 
 And if, as sages say, our joys above, 
 
 Will flow from knowledge' fount, as well as love ; 
 
 An idle speculation 'tis below, 
 
 T' attempt the essence, of high things to know ! 
 
 He liv'd to prove to doubting, fainting minds, 
 
 The glorious link that earth to heaven binds. 
 
 Enough — enough, 'tis holy ground, beware ! 
 
 And spirits dwell in Ada's lock of hair !
 
 108 POEMS. 
 
 THE 
 
 ANSWER TO A LETTER. 
 
 Yes ! Woman's heart 's a busy thing 
 Where strong and deep sensations spring ; 
 But not with ev'ry breeze that blows 
 Does ev'ry heart its folds unclose. 
 The plant that 's lov'd is sensitive, 
 And needs love's gentlest cares to live. 
 From each cold selfish touch of earth, 
 It shrinks — and shrinking, shews its birth I 
 Its seed was sent from heav'n to bless 
 And sublimate this wilderness.
 
 POEMS. 109 
 
 TO 
 
 THE VERY DIMINUTIVE 
 
 MADEMOISELLE DE M- 
 
 WHO ASKED ME TO WRITE POU HER ALBUM. 
 
 Nay ! seek not thou on earth's wild heath. 
 For flow'rs to blend with thy brow's wreath ; 
 A wreath prepar'd by fairy band, 
 'Tis dimm'd by touch of earthly hand ; 
 The flowers of love, and chivalry. 
 Are borne by Ob'ron's majesty : 
 And, follow'd by his tiny train. 
 They lead sweet Flora o'er the plain. 
 Who, veiling with a mantle green 
 Titania's beauties — crowns thee Queen.
 
 no POEMS. 
 
 SUPPOSED TO BE ADDRESSED, 
 BY THE REV. GENTLEMAN WHOSE NAME FORMS THE ACROSTIC, 
 
 TO THE AUTHOR. 
 
 Mild Summer's train has glided by. 
 
 Green leaves have lost their fresh young dye, 
 
 " Emblem of forsaken grief," 
 
 (Dying, wand'ring autumn leaf:) 
 
 Grants not thee, the God of all. 
 
 Aid ! who " marks the sparrow's fall ?" 
 
 Rest thee, near that lovely pile,* 
 
 Rear'd to bid the mourner smile. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Rest thee ! balm is found for grief. 
 Rest thee — wand'ring autumn leaf ! 
 
 Ipswicb, 
 Oct. 24. 1830. 
 
 * His Church.
 
 POEMS. Ill 
 
 ENIGME. 
 
 Un adjective mon premier, entre nous 
 Qui donne un sens, et vague, et peu connu, 
 Mon second. — Maitre des vagues et de la mer 
 Et meme de toutes choses vivans sur la lerre. 
 Mon tout — c'est trouve rareraent ici bas, 
 On peut le voir, toujours, parfait en toi !
 
 112 POEMS. 
 
 To W. M., Esq. 
 
 WHO ADVISED ME NOT TO WRITE A MEMOIR, LEST I SHOULD 
 OFFEND MY FATHER'S FAMILY. 
 
 " The thorny point 
 Of bare distress hath ta'en from me 
 The show of smooth civility." — Shakspeare. 
 
 Thy words, are words a friend alone would speak. 
 
 And they do find within this blighted heart 
 
 Reception welcome — like a gather'd rose 
 
 Presented by the hand of Friendship : — there 
 
 Awhile to bloom — then wither, and augment 
 
 The heap of ruin chosen for its grave. 
 
 Oh ! never more to root — and bud, and bloom. 
 
 Will flow'rs be strewn, tho' strewn by hand of friend. 
 
 In this now adamantin'd heart, where streams 
 
 Of vital, genial, blood warmth should have flow'd.
 
 POEMS. 113 
 
 And bless'd ? — Reflected blessings then had warm'd the 
 
 breasts. 
 And damask'd with the soul's best health, the cheeks 
 Where now must glow the hectic blush of shame. 
 The coronet across their lordly brows 
 May seem to common eyes, and e'en their own. 
 To hang at ease, and emulate the sun : 
 (And, like to rays of gladness, born and fed 
 By th' heart's uprightness,) a brilliancy 
 May seem to cast around. — But borrow'd 'tis. 
 That seeming ease and lustre — ah, borrow'd ! 
 And from no nobler lender than the veil, 
 Th' oblivious veil o^ thoughtlessness. For I 
 Would not class them with rocks or stones. Oh ! no ; — 
 I would to mere forgetfulness still trace 
 Their cold unkindness — their neglect 
 Of one whom blood — and more than blood — has made 
 Their sister. — One, whose claims upon their love 
 And pity, (seen by all except themselves,) 
 Are register'd on high — and slighted here 
 May call down Heaven's wrath upon the heads 
 Of their own beauteous offspring ; planting thorns 
 Where goodly fruit might hang to bless the race ! — 
 'Tis duty then, and 'tis compassion too, 
 
 H
 
 114 POEMS, 
 
 To try to rouse their sleeping love or hate, 
 T' avert the blow — the long impending blow. 
 That hurls their starving kindred to the tomb ; 
 Whom — one — one little bauble * (nought beside 
 Of earth's best gifts were wanting) had made 
 Their equals — and the sharers of their — all ! ! 
 
 * Alluding to my mother's amiable character and high respectability, 
 acknowledged by themselves, as well as by all who knew her.
 
 POEMS. 115 
 
 TO 
 
 THE HEAD OF A NOBLE FAMILY. 
 
 Oh, yes — 'tis thy unwatchful eye 
 Which causes all my misery ; 
 The world may scorn and frown on me, 
 It — but, alas ! — but — copies thee ! 
 
 Oh! never hadst thou plea to shun 
 The shelterless, unfriended one, 
 ( Whosefault it was to see the sun !) 
 As thou hast done — as thou hast done ! 
 
 w 2
 
 116 POEMS. 
 
 TO 
 
 Oh ! wither'd be this hand of mine. 
 If e'er it write a verse or line 
 To hurt or sully thee or thine ! 
 
 In heart, as noble as in name. 
 
 Thou deem'st mere honours, rank, and fame 
 
 But things that yield the wretched claim 
 
 Upon thy sympathy — as they 
 Were shining^ trifles in thy way 
 That need a stronger brilliancy :— 
 
 The brilliancy of virtue's light — 
 
 Then only richly, purely bright — 
 
 My friend— my brother— ^Aom art right !
 
 POEMS. 117 
 
 ENIGME. 
 
 " Mon premier est un Tyran, 
 Mon second est un Monstre, 
 Mon tout c'est le Diable." 
 
 Mon premier est des dames — ou don du ceil, 
 
 Ou bien leur malediction cruelle ; 
 
 Mon seconde est leur veritable haine 
 
 Quoique tons les deux unis, leur font une chaine 
 
 De Tor souvent — mais quelque fois d'autres choses 
 
 Qu'elle prennent sans peine, comme, (sans epines,) la rose !
 
 118 POEMS. 
 
 TO AN ENEMY. 
 
 " Where now the barren rock or painted shrew"?" — Young. 
 
 Dark and dire and guileful being. 
 
 Thou hast us'd thy pow'r in vain ; 
 
 By thy very aid I'm fleeing 
 
 Far from anguish — far from pain. 
 
 Thine the heart, by malice moulded, 
 To remove the fatal veil 
 
 Flattery and Folly folded 
 
 O'er these eyes so weak and frail. 
 
 By the flames thy vengeance lighted. 
 Thou hast purified the ore ; 
 
 Treach'rous flames, that had benighted. 
 Left to thy insidious pow'r.
 
 POEMS. 119 
 
 But thy pow'r was meted, minded, 
 
 And thy aims were deeply scann'd ; 
 
 Why was I, alas ! so blinded. 
 
 Not — before — to see God's hand ? 
 
 That dark draught, by thee impoison'd 
 Has prov'd medicine divine, 
 
 And the eye, by that tear moisten'd 
 
 Which 'tis " bliss to shed" — is mine ! 
 
 Thus the drop distill'd, extracted. 
 From life's bitter cup, behold ! 
 
 And the metal, base, contracted, 
 See transmuted into gold ! 
 
 Thine the hand, decreed by Heaven, 
 In my cup that bliss to blend ! 
 
 Now — my enemy forgiven, 
 
 'Gainst thy will, I'll call thee friend !
 
 120 POEMS. 
 
 Then — dark, dire, and guileful being, 
 Thou hast us'd thy pow'r in vain. 
 
 The mere tool of Him, th' all-seeing, 
 Striking blessing out of pain. 
 
 As the steel that striketh ever 
 
 Lightning from the block of stone ; 
 Unassail'd — unsmitten, never 
 
 Had that hidden fire been knovi^n 1
 
 POEMS. 121 
 
 TO MY PILLOW. 
 
 All hail ! thou kindliest, best resource of earth 
 
 Which beings on her flinty bosom find; 
 
 Blest counterpoise of all that happiness 
 
 Can lavish upon Fortune's favourites ; 
 
 And the much dearer, safer measure too, 
 
 (Bestow'd by th'hand that holds the scales of Heaven.) 
 
 Yes, balmy pillow — amaranthine bed — 
 
 With hearts-ease sprinkled, and the thornless rose: 
 
 Oh ! weigh with thy balsamic pow'r and peace, 
 
 Earth's pow'r — earth's gold — earth's luxuries : and they, 
 
 E'en golden pleasure's vot'rists shall confess, 
 
 'Tis thine — 'tis thine — the turning of the scale ! — 
 
 One taste, (when tir'd of Folly's mazy dream,) 
 
 Of thy Lethean sweetness, will have taught 
 
 Those dreamers, that the thorn of bitterness 
 
 Awhile mat/ cease to pierce. — And that awhile. 
 
 Life's specious glare may soften into shade, 
 
 (The green fresh shade that aching eyes do love.) 
 
 Sole relic, 'mid the wreck of Eden saved
 
 122 POEMS. 
 
 To tell an Eden bloom'd — reclin'd on thee, 
 
 Grief's sigh is lull'd to rest — and by thy fond 
 
 And peaceful hushings, sinks the storm of life ; 
 
 That ever fearful storm, assuag'd by thee 
 
 To gentlest calm — but not assuag'd for those — 
 
 For those who feel the dagger of remorse ! 
 
 (The steel which stabs thy guileless infant — Sleep !)
 
 POEMS. 123 
 
 THE MILLER S BOY. 
 
 " I dive for precious pearl in Sorrow's stream." — Young. 
 
 And can T from my book exclude 
 My elder born ? and not employ 
 
 One thought on him, because a rude 
 
 And rough and homely Miller's Boy? 
 
 Oh no, my child — no circumstance, 
 A Mother's love can e'er destroy ; 
 
 The seed that tender Nature plants. 
 
 Can know no blight — poor Miller's Boy ! 
 
 Thee, of thy boasted wealth to find 
 Deprived, is but one wither'd joy. 
 
 Among the leafless reeds that bind 
 
 Thy Mother's brow— dear Miller's Boy !
 
 124 POEMS. 
 
 The thorn that once was mingled there 
 Has ceas'd, with piercing, to annoy ; 
 
 Its edge is worn away, my dear, 
 
 And I can love — a Miller's Boy ! 
 
 Pride — wounded Pride, has had its weight. 
 And bade me nought on earth enjoy ; 
 
 But now, " the vanity of state" 
 
 I know, my Son — (the Miller's Boy !) 
 
 The tender plant I rear'd in thee. 
 As one benighted beam of joy. 
 
 May yet, with fruits of honesty, 
 
 Repay thy Mother's care — my Boy. 
 
 'Mid toil — refinement's pang and smile 
 May seem (like Fancy's wand) a toy ; 
 
 And thus the things that most beguile, 
 
 Thou 'rt shelter'd from— poor Miller's Boy.
 
 POEMS. 125 
 
 " God's noblest work (an honest Man !") 
 
 Be thou ! — and thou shalt prove the buoy 
 
 ('Gainst shoals and rocks) of Heaven's plan, 
 To guard thy Mother's age ! — my Boy.
 
 126 POEMS. 
 
 WRITTEN 
 
 ON HAVING RECEIVED VERY BENEVOLENT ATTENTION 
 FROM JAMES REED, Esq. OF IPSWICH. 
 
 Poor Wanderer ! wherefore didst thou roam 
 
 To Orwell's banks to find a home ? 
 
 What shadow glided through thy brain. 
 
 And imag'd there — a friend again? 
 
 What whisper'd, that thou e'er couldst find 
 
 A Reed not " shaken with the wind ;" 
 
 Or aught to yield thee timely aid 
 
 Amid the wreck that grief had made ? 
 
 The taper brighter burns, 'tis said. 
 
 Where clouds of deepest darkness spread ; 
 
 Thus glanc'd the hope beam through thy mind 
 
 Which led thee Orwell's banks to find. 
 
 And hast thou found a friendly Reed, 
 
 To succour thee in time of need ? 
 
 One on that beauteous river's side 
 
 Affording aid ? — or does it glide, 
 
 Unmindful of thy sigh and pray'r. 
 
 And murmur " succour is not there V^
 
 POEMS. 127 
 
 No Reed that 's " shaken with the wind," 
 
 No glancing meteor of the mind. 
 
 No mere light shadow of the brain 
 
 Mocks with vain hope the Wanderer's pain ! 
 
 A Reed is on fair Orwell's side. 
 
 Of noblest growth — its boast — its pride ; 
 
 And near it may the wretched rest. 
 
 The humble, helpless, there are blest ; 
 
 And e'en the Wand'rer there may bring 
 
 Her tearful tale of sorrowing ; 
 
 And with the poor and friendless share 
 
 That noble Reed's supporting care. 
 
 With Orwell's sylvan banks may sing 
 
 Its praises — ever echoing 
 
 Its root on earth — its fruits arise. 
 
 Accepted of their native skies !
 
 128 POEMS. 
 
 Years — years ago, a sad farewell. 
 
 From blanching lips, prophetic fell. 
 
 And Fancy gave its trembling tone 
 
 The chords and touches — all her own — 
 
 And then with hues the holiest 
 
 She richly tinted Tenderness. 
 
 But over it dark shading flung. 
 
 Like clouds, o'ercharg'd at set of sun ! — 
 
 And presage lent that mute farewell 
 
 An omen'd tone, like Honour's knell ! — 
 
 'Twas so. — Its whispering echo rings 
 
 In Memory's ear, those murmurings. — 
 
 Again farewell, but not as then. 
 
 This heart can never bleed again ; 
 
 For gone's the pow'r — and gone the spell 
 
 That made it love — and love so well. 
 
 Ah ! gone the charm, and gone the power 
 
 That stamp'd a soul upon the hour !
 
 ^ 
 
 J 
 
 POEMS. 129 
 
 And broken the magnetic gem 
 Which olittered in the diadem. 
 That Nature's self had seemed to throw 
 Across an honour-crested brow; 
 And fall'n the star that trembling cast 
 Its rays around ! Yet screen the past ! 
 Forgiveness ! with oblivious veil. 
 Oh! then farewell! — again farewell !
 
 130 POEMS. 
 
 CARDS OF FORTUNE. 
 
 The cloud that overshadows thee. 
 
 And threatens thy fair destiny, 
 
 Is but a veil by Vesper thrown, 
 
 T' ameliorate and temper down 
 
 That richly lighted sky of thipe. 
 
 Where suns in changeless lustre shine ; 
 
 Oh ! hail the friendly veil that thus 
 
 Would soften down more happiness. 
 
 Than blooms to bless Earth's narrow sphere ! 
 
 Bliss buds — but does not blossom here ! 
 
 There's joyfulness in store for thee. 
 But thou wilt suffer previously ; 
 Yet like the sweet and sunny hour 
 Which followeth the summer show'r. 
 And like the deep-felt calm that comes 
 Behind wild ocean's direst storms, 
 Shall be the smiles that welcome thee 
 To all that gives life harmony. 
 True joy her fairest blossoms rears 
 In soil prepar'd, and dew'd by tears !
 
 POEMS. 1-31 
 
 A SECRET lingers in thine eye, 
 
 And bids it shine resplendently. 
 
 And from thy lips rich echoes fall 
 
 Of joy-bounds caught within thy soul ! — 
 
 Nay — start not — for the secret there 
 
 Is silent as th' unruffled air 
 
 That herald is of coming storm ; 
 
 Oh ! start not — thou shalt know no barm, 
 
 Unhurt through stranger's land thou 'It come, 
 
 While welcomes cluster round thy home. 
 
 Oh ! bless the chasc'ning hand that left 
 One sting within thy honied draught ; 
 And, 'mid the flow'rs that bloom t' adorn 
 Thy favour'd brow — Oh ! hail the thorn ! 
 Rejoice that on thy sunny path 
 One shade is cast — (not cast in wrath. ^ 
 No ! friendly as the plough to land, 
 To mortals is the chast'ning hand ; 
 It mends the heart, and lights the eye. 
 In lustrous tears of sympathy ! 
 
 Nowl — idly on the river's brink, 
 Thy eye does Nature's beauties drink, 
 And listless is thy unfiU'd soul 
 When sipping that nectarian bowl ; 
 For that heart seeming link'd by Heav'ii 
 With thine, is to another giv'n, 
 And Nature's once melodious voice. 
 In mock'ry cries, Ilejoice— rejoice! 
 
 I 2
 
 ]32 POEMS. 
 
 If ever cherish'd lamb, or plant, or dove 
 Become an object of thy fost'ring love, 
 'Twill die :— And tell thee, e'en in youth, the tale 
 Of riper years ! — Oh 1 thou wilt learn it well ! 
 That blight lies hid beneath the spreading flow'r 
 Which gaily twines round Hope's enchanted bow'r; 
 That e'en fair Friendship wears a phantom smile, 
 And oft-times breathes, alas! but to beguile. 
 
 Oh ! deck thee with rose-buds and sweet lilacs now, 
 
 And mingle the hawthorn with them, 
 For Love's first emotion just colours thy brow, 
 
 And Hope puts forth buds from its stem ; 
 But thus richly garlanded, let not thy feet 
 
 The hearts-ease in carelessness crush. 
 Lest the thistle and mistrustful lavender meet 
 
 ■Where the full rose and myrtle should blusli. 
 
 Nay! wreath'd with willow, bind not now 
 The cypress on thy lilied brow ; 
 Seek not the shade of forest gloom 
 Where wild flow'rs only put forth bloom ; 
 For sunshine on thy path shall throw 
 Rich beams, that cherish with their glow, 
 The flow'rs of rarest, loveliest hue. 
 That e'er on mortal's path-way grew.
 
 POEMS. 133 
 
 /■ 
 
 Learn of the Ivy's changeless bloom, 
 T' exist and smile on Pleasure's tomb ; 
 Learn of the ruin'd tow'r, to bear 
 Both wintry winds and scorching air : 
 And wait submissively on earth, 
 Until the seed of heav'nly birth — 
 Death — 'death deep-planted in thy breast, 
 Shall lead thee where the weary rest ! 
 
 That bright star for thee emitting 
 
 Rays of promis'd happiness. 
 To meridian height is getting, 
 
 Zenith'd too in power to bless ; 
 Rather doubt high solar brightness. 
 
 Stars' and planets' harmony, 
 Than the faithful heart's uprightness, 
 
 Which, as true, revolves round thee. 
 
 Like the deep rich shade of the moon-beam bright, 
 
 Which, mellow'd and blent with its fairy light. 
 
 Falls silently, touching the inmost soul. 
 
 When fancy, and rapture, and hope, unroll 
 
 Their pages, and promise a happier home. 
 
 Than the half-blest dark sphere, where mortals roam. 
 
 Like this moon-light hour, by the fates' decree, 
 
 Is the joy-beam, alas ! that rests on thee ! 
 
 'Tis beautiful, holy, that hour — and bright. 
 
 But gone with the morning's first ray of light !
 
 134 POEMS. 
 
 Lo ! like the moth, allur'd by yon fair light. 
 
 Which seems a glory, harmless as 'tis bright; 
 
 A specious radiance, and a spangled wrath. 
 
 Await thee, as sure ruin waits the moth ; 
 
 If timely, thou fly not the meteor- smile 
 
 That's there — to fascinate thee — and beguile. 
 
 Outshining lunar rays, with dazzling glare, 
 
 That night-beam glitters — oh ! 'tis there — 'tis there. 
 
 An erring night-beam ! that with fatal glow. 
 
 Gleams but to hurry thee to depthless v/oe ! 
 
 How lightly floats the playful bark. 
 
 How gaily soars the happy lark. 
 
 How brightly mounts the morning sun ; 
 
 Aurora's robe of pearls is on, 
 
 July her glowing mantle wears. 
 
 And yearns to dry e'en Sorrow's tears ; — 
 
 High pleasur'd thus, thy life shall be. 
 
 If guarded by Philosophy ; — 
 
 Who extracts, with alchemic pow'rs, 
 
 The honey's sting — the thorn from flow'rs. 
 
 Thy sky is bright — thy sky is bright. 
 In false Prosperity's fair light ; 
 Thy cup of joy runs o'er and o'er. 
 And great — oh ! — great's thy earthly store ; 
 And — mute's the tongue, and dry the eye, 
 And steel' d the heart, where sympathy 
 Once linger'd ; ere the earth-fiU'd soul. 
 Drank deeply of that deadly bowl, 
 Which kill'd the spark, pure, subtile, fine. 
 That made thee more than half divine.
 
 POEMS. 135 
 
 Awake not to welcome Aurora's hour, 
 
 When rose-wreath'd she steps from her di'mond bow'r ; 
 
 Inhale not the perfume of blooming ]\Iay, 
 
 While the nightingale warbles on the spray. 
 
 Though fairest and dearest those seasons be, 
 
 Meridian sweets are safer for thee. 
 
 The time is not distant, when dawn's rich blush. 
 
 Divested of danger, thy cheek may flush 
 
 With feelings' own transports ; and thy bright eyes, 
 
 May glow 'mid the lights of nocturnal skies. 
 
 Nay, pout not that pretty red lip o'er the page, 
 
 Which the sibylline hand flings to thee ; 
 
 The numbers, though lowly, shall chase away rage, 
 
 As the light bark rides o'er the proud sea ; 
 
 For the sly smile and blush, those numbers call forth. 
 
 Shall illumine thy beautiful eye ; 
 
 And the perilous arrow it sends from its wrath, 
 
 Shall pierce through the heart ling'ring nigh. 
 
 Now look, look around thee, and pitying see, 
 
 And gladden the heart that is bleeding for thee. 
 
 Thv dawn of life was overcast, 
 Yet brood no longer on the past ; 
 The sun, with mounting glory fills 
 The space around, of vales and hills 
 Long — long ere mid-day hour — then cast 
 No thought upon the gloomy past ; 
 Except with painter's skill, where shade, 
 To throw out light is ably laid ; 
 The glow-worm's light, and astral spark, 
 Are radiant only in the dark.
 
 136 POEMS. 
 
 Oh ! trust not thou the speaking eye. 
 That borrows rich beams from the sky — 
 For though its fine dark lustre throw 
 Such beauty o'er that marble brow — 
 Its parent guide, (the hidden heart,) 
 Disguis'd beneath the folds of art, 
 Would poison e'en the sweetest draught, 
 (The taste of Heav'nkind angels waft 
 
 To Earth.) In tint, 'tis snow — 
 
 And feeling too — that high-white brow ! 
 
 THE END.
 
 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 Her Grace the Duchess Dowager of Richmond, (4 Copies.) 
 
 The Countess of Albemarle. 
 
 Lady Beauchamp. 
 
 Lady Ann Coke, (4 Copies.) 
 
 Lady Jane Tumour. 
 
 Lady Isabella Tumour. 
 
 Lady H. Moore. 
 
 Lady Ann Chad. 
 
 The Marchioness of , (4 Copies.) 
 
 Lady Harland, (4 Copies.) 
 
 Mrs. Reed, Ipswicii. 
 
 Mrs. Elrington, Tower of London. 
 
 Mrs. C. Reed, VV^orthing. 
 
 Mrs. Edgar, Red House, Ipswich, (several Copies.) 
 
 Mrs. Wenn, Ipswich. 
 
 Mrs. Kedington, Babcrgh, (2 Copies.) 
 
 Mrs. Rodwell.
 
 138 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 Mrs. W. Rodwell, Ipswich. 
 
 Mrs. Usborne, Brighton. 
 
 Mrs. Paul Smith, Ipswich. 
 
 Mrs. Cobbold, Ipswich. 
 
 Mrs. Cream, Melford, (2 Copies.) 
 
 Mrs. Death, Alpheton. 
 
 Mrs. Lee, Lavenham. 
 
 Mrs. Walby, Lavenham. 
 
 Mrs. Johnson, Lavenham. 
 
 Mrs. Shelden, Chelsea, (2 Copies.) 
 
 Mrs. Prentice, Rayleigh, (4 Copies.) 
 
 Mrs. Buck, late of Lavenham. 
 
 Mrs. Shepherd. 
 
 Mrs. Chamberlain, Ipswich. 
 
 Mrs. Scarf. 
 
 Mrs. Waring, Edwardston House. 
 
 Mrs. Haye. 
 
 Mrs. Buckingham, Woodbridge. 
 
 Mrs. Lynn. 
 
 Mrs. Rouse. 
 
 Mrs. Denny, Ipswich. 
 
 Mrs. Hill. 
 
 Mrs. Wallace, Ipswich. 
 
 Mrs. Routh, Ipswich. 
 
 Mrs. Buller, Ipswich. 
 
 Mrs. Lines. 
 
 Mrs. Cronyn, Worthing.
 
 LIST OF SUnsCRlBERS. 139 
 
 Mrs. Brandon. 
 
 Mrs. Bampton, Ipswich. 
 
 Mrs. Edwards, Sutton. 
 
 Mrs. Hallam, Wimpole Street, London, (2 Copies.) 
 
 Mrs.. Norton, Alderton. 
 
 Mrs. Brook, Melton. 
 
 Mrs. Blyth. 
 
 Mrs. EUiston. 
 
 Mrs. Prettyman. 
 
 Mrs. Ogles. 
 
 Mrs. Bennett. 
 
 Mrs. Bean. 
 
 Mrs. Wing, Bury. 
 
 Mrs. Nunn, Bury. 
 
 Mrs= Beckett, Brunswick Square, (4 Copies.) 
 
 Miss Acton, Ipswich. 
 
 Miss Innesses, Ipswich. 
 
 Miss Kerridge, Whitton. 
 
 Miss Blowers, Lavenham. 
 
 Miss Rodwell. 
 
 Miss Elrington, Tower of London. 
 
 Miss Boustield, Lavenham. 
 
 Miss Branwhite, Lavenham. 
 
 Miss Bird, Bath. 
 
 Miss Beckett, Brunswick Square. 
 
 Miss Piatt, (4 Copies.)
 
 140 
 
 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 Miss Girling, Ipswich. 
 
 A Friend. 
 
 A Friend. 
 
 Miss Coe. 
 
 Miss Parnell. 
 
 Miss Boult. 
 
 Miss Harvey, Melton. 
 
 Miss Waller. 
 
 Miss Stodart. 
 
 Miss Edwards, Sutton. 
 
 Miss C. L. Edwards. 
 
 Miss Thorndike. 
 
 Miss Pooley, Bramford. 
 
 Miss Collins. 
 
 Miss Rolfe, Tower of London. 
 
 His Grace the Duke of Norfolk. 
 
 The Earl of Albemarle. 
 
 Lord Beauchamp. 
 
 Lord Robert Kerr. 
 
 Lord Reay. 
 
 Sir Samuel Fludyer, (4 Copies.) 
 
 Sir Thomas Cullum. 
 
 Sir Robert Harland. 
 
 Sir George Martin. 
 
 Sir Charles Chad. 
 
 Sir Henry Parnell.
 
 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 141 
 
 A. Diindas, Esq. M. P. (several Copies.) 
 C. M'Kinnon, Esq. M.P. 
 
 — Tyrrell, Esq. M. P. (4 Copies.) 
 
 — Fitzgerald, Esq. M.P. 
 
 T. W. Coke, Esq. Holkam, M. P. 
 
 General Dickinson. 
 
 Colonel Rushbrook, (2 Copies.) 
 
 Colonel White, VVoodbridge. 
 
 Colonel Addison, Chilton Hall. 
 
 Colonel Leach. 
 
 Colonel Dupuis, Ipswich. 
 
 Colonel Raper, Hadleigh. 
 
 Major Turner, Ipswich. 
 
 Major Pytches, VVoodbridge, (2 Copies.) 
 
 Major Shriver, Melton. 
 
 Captain Reed, First Dragoon Guards. 
 
 Captain Tinling, Worthing. 
 
 Captain Wormeley, Ipswich. 
 
 Captain Goate, Bury. 
 
 A Gentleman, (4 Copies.) 
 
 James Reed, Esq. Ipswich, (several Copies.) 
 
 James Curtis, Esq. 
 
 C. Berners, Esq. 
 
 Loftus t^lrington, Esq. Coldstream Guards. 
 
 — Prescott, Esq. East India Director. 
 
 — Elrington, Governor of the Tower of London.
 
 142 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 W Copelaud, Esq, Worthing. 
 
 — Wingtield, Esq. Worthing. 
 J. S. Brandon, Esq. Worthing. 
 
 — Trotter, Esq. 
 
 John Cronyn, Esq. Worthing. 
 George Waller, Esq. Sutton. 
 
 — Edwards, Esq. Sutton. 
 R. J. Edwards, Esq. Sutton. 
 
 — Bird, Esq. 
 G. Ward, Esq. 
 
 — Bean, Esq. 
 
 — Parfett, Esq. Eversley, (4 Copies.) 
 
 — Bacon, Esq. Bank, Ipswich. 
 W. Burch, Esq. Lavenham. 
 
 — Bennett, Esq. Ipswich, 
 
 — Long, Esq. Ipswich, 
 
 J. Wayman, Esq. (2 Copies.) 
 
 — Roope, Esq. Ipswich. 
 J. Borton, Esq. Bury. 
 
 G. Thomas, Esq. Woodbridge. 
 J. Nunn, Esq. Edinburgh. 
 B. R. B. 
 J. Last, Esq, Hadleigh. 
 
 — Atthill, Esq. Ipswich, 
 J, Rose, Esq. Woodbridge. 
 
 — Silver, Esq. 
 
 — Creighton, Esq. Lavenham.
 
 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. ] 43 
 
 Mr. Clamp, Ipswich. 
 Mr. McKeon, Lavenham. 
 Mr. Piper, Ipswich. 
 Mr. Deck, Bury. 
 
 — Saffell, Esq. 
 
 C. Westrop, Esq. Melford. 
 R. Cream, Esq. 
 
 — Boggis, Esq. 
 
 R. Bevan, Esq. Bury Bank. 
 
 — Boldero, Esq. Bury. 
 
 — Muskett, Esq. Bury. 
 
 — Buck, Esq. Bury. 
 
 Dr. Drake, Hadleigh. 
 
 Dr. Williams, Ipswich. 
 
 Dr. Field, Ipswich, (2 Copies.) 
 
 Dr. Masters, Worthing. 
 
 Dr. Smith, Bury. 
 
 Rev. Dr. Wooll, Worthing. 
 
 Rev. M. G. Edgar, Red House, Ipswich, (several Copies.) 
 
 Rev. — Bickersteth, Acton. 
 
 Rev. J. Wilkinson, Holbrook. 
 
 Rev. T. Johnson, Lavenham. 
 
 Rev. T. Baseley, Lavenham. 
 
 Rev. F. Croker, Lavenham. 
 
 Rev. R. Cobbold. 
 
 Rev. W. Clarke, (4 Copies.)
 
 144 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 Rev. C. Fonnereau, Ipswich, 
 Rev. Mr. Nicholl, Chilton. 
 Rev. — Garratt, Conduit-street. 
 Rev. Thomas Carthew, Woodbridge. 
 Rev. — Fletcher, Woodbridgje. 
 Rev. H. Dixon, Worthing. 
 Rev. R. R. Bailey, Tower of London. 
 Rev. — Skeeles, Bury. 
 
 18 Subscribers at Mr. Hardacre's, Hadleigh. 
 
 Some at Stowmarket. 
 
 Some at Melford. 
 
 50 at Sudbury and various parts, too late for insertion. 
 
 Priuted by W. Hill, Ballingdon.
 
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