Til I adapi The for gi- het on The d * of Fi fcttiont of a II .indl work of Met F; THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES ibrnrtti of it, and tiii t, hai In the volume* 0:1 I tin- habits and manner* ol ry of the turrouudiii It i Works an Writ : ally Ufu ;, |t|{«.v »d ROBERTS. POEMS OF FRANCIS HINGESTON. I. UN Dr. \ Printed bj Spot riswoi m .v I \. u - 1 1 < • ! S I'liirr. I it flf* *«jj^ THE POEMS OF FRANCIS HINGESTON. EDITED BY HIS SON. LONDON: LONGMAN, BROWN, GREEN, LONGMANS, & ROBERTS. 1857. info is- sn TO THE RIGHT HON. THE EARL OF ST. GERMANS THIS VOLUME OF POEMS IS, BY HIS LORDSHIP'S KIND PERMISSION, DEDICATED BY ONE WHO DESIRES TO PAY THAT TRIBUTE TO HIS LORDSHIP'S WORTH WHICH THEIR AUTHOR WOULD HAVE DONE, HIS LORDSHIP'S MOST OBLIGED AND OBEDIENT SERVANT, THE EDITOR. 917S; LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. The Eight Hon. the Earl of Derby, Chancellor of the University of Oxford. The Right Hon. the Earl of St. Germans (6 copies). The Eight Hon. the Earl of Mount Edgcumbe. The Eight Hon. the Viscount Falmouth (4 copies;. The Eight Eet. the Lord Bishop of Oxford, Cucklesdon Palace. The Dowager Countess of Falmouth (2 copies). The Eight Worshipful the Mayor of Oxford (a.d. 1857). The Worshipful the Mayor of Truro (a.d. 1857). Adams, Edward E., Esq. (the late) (4 copies). Adams, E. Richards, Esq., M.A., Elmer Lodge, Beckenham, Kent. Avery, T. E., Esq., Boscastle, Cornwall. Barham, Charles, Esq., M.D., Strangways Terrace, Truro. Barrett, Mr., Truro. Basset, N. F., Esq., Lemon Street, Truro. Bazeley, Augustus, Esq., Liskeard. Bazeley, The Eev. Francis Ley, M.A., Bideford. Bazeley, William, Esq., The Terrace, St. Ives, Cornwall. Bloxam, The Eev. J. E., D.D., St. Mary Magdalen College, Oxford Bolitho, Eichard, Esq., Ponsandane, Penzance. Bolitho, William, Esq., jun., Ponsandane. Borrow, H., Esq., Pydre Street, Truro. Broad, Alfred, Esq., Plymouth. Brougham, Mrs., Arwenack Street, Falmouth. Bryan, W. B., Esq., Worcester College, Oxford. Bullocke, The Eev. H. B., M.A., St. Mullion Vicarage, Cornwall. Carlyon, Clement, Esq., M.D., Lemon Street, Truro (2 copies). Carlyon, E. Trewbody, Esq., Trevre, Truro. LIST OF BUfiSCRIBERJB. Carlyon, Mi--, 2'», Lemon Street, Truro (2 copies). Game, William, Esq , Falmouth (2 copies). I tpman, .Mrs., Broughton, Oxfordshire j and Holywell Street, Oxford. Chappel, \\ . Traer, Esq., Lemon Street, Truro. Chorlpy, Mr., :ii, Lemon Street, Truro. Codrington, The Rev. It. 11., .M. A., Wadham College, Oxford. Davy, Mrs. C. W., Trengwainton, Penzance (2 copies). Ferris, Thomas, Esq., Collector of II.M. Customs, Truro. Fisher, Mr-., Stoke llouso, Stoko Damurcl, Devonport. Garland, Thomas, Esq., Fairfield House, Redruth. Hartley, Mrs., Falmouth. Harvey, The Rev. W. Woodis, M.A., Rector of Truro (3 copies). Hempel, Charles F., Esq., Mus. Bac. Oxon., Lemon Street, Truro. Henderson, Captain, R.N., Adelaide Villa, Mcrchiston 1'ark, Edin- burgh. Henderson, Mrs., Adelaide Villa, Merchiston Park. Henderson, John, Esq., Craven Street, Strand, London. Henderson, Thomas, Esq., Craven Street, Strand. Henwood, Thomas, Esq., Bath. Henwood, W. J., Esq., F.R.S., F.G.S., Clarence Place, Penzance. Hichens, Robert, Esq., Thrcadncedle Street, London (2 copies). Hi In ii-, William, Esq., St. Ives, Cornwall. Hichens, William, Esq., jun., The Terrace, St. Ives, Cornwall. Hill, George, Esq., Tregassick, St. Gerrans, Cornwall. Eingeston, George, Esq., Lyme Regis, Dorsetshire. Hingeston, Samuel, Esq., M.A., of the Inner Temple (3 copies). Hingcston, Mrs., Holywell Street, Oxford. Hingston, Charles, Esq., M.D., Prince's Square, Plymouth (2 copies). Hodge, R. Miehell, Esq., Truro (2 copies). Hodge, William, Esq., Truro Vean Cottage, Truro. Holworthv, Charles Desborough, Esq., Penlee Crescent, Stoke Daman 1, Devmiport. Holworthy, Mr-. Charles Desborough, Penlee Crescent. LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. John, Miss, Waterloo Terrace, Truro. Kendal, Nicholas, Esq., M.P., Pelyn, Cornwall. Kendall, Miss C, Exmouth. Kinsman, The Kev. R. B., M.A., The Vicarage House, Tintagel. Kirkness, Mrs., 14, Tamar Terrace, Stoke Damarel, Devonport (2 copies). Ladd, Mrs., Liskeard. Leah, The Rev. Thomas, M.A., St. Keyne, Cornwall (2 copies). Le Grice, The Rev. C. Valentine, M.A., Trereiffe, Penzance. Ley, Edwin, Esq., Alverton, Penzance. Matthew, Mrs., Holywell Street, Oxford. Michel! Robert, Esq., Truro. Michell, William, Esq., Mount Charles, Truro. Moorman, James, Esq., St. Columb Major, Cornwall. Moorman, Ccq^tain Richard, R.N., Stoke Damarel, Devonport. Moorman, William, Esq., Falmouth. Morrell, Frederick, Esq., St. Giles', Oxford. Murray, The Rev. Jeffreys W., M.A., St. Kea Vicarage, Truro. Nankivell, J. T., Esq., Truro. Orchard, The Rev. R. G-. Hooper, B.A., Chaplain to the Warneford Asylum, Headiugton, Oxford. Orphoot, Peter, Esq., M.D., Edinburgh. Paull, John R., Esq., Bosvigo House, Truro. Pearce, Richard, Esq., Penzance. Peel, Mrs., Trenant Park, Cornwall. Perkins, J., Esq., Holywell Street, Oxford. Penneck, The Rev. Henry, M.A., 7, North Parade, Penzance (2 copies). Polwhele, Col., Polwhele, Cornwall. Polwhele, Miss Isabella, Lemon Street, Truro. Retallack, Captain, H.M. 63rd Regiment. Rice, The Rev. H. M., M.A., The Rectory, South-Hill, Callington. LIST OF PV l.s( MIH'RS. rte, .T., Esq., Southleigh, Truro (2 copies). Bouse, .1 i I 31 reet, Truro. - ■gent, The Rev. Harry Walter, M.A., Btoton College, Oxford. . [▼( - < lornwalL Sharp, Edward, Esq., Ferris Town, Truro. - epshanks, The Rev. T., MA., The Grammar School, Coventry. Smith, George, Esq., 1'.. A.. Exeter College, Oxford. Smith, P. P., Esq., Tremorvah, Truro (2 copies). Spiers, B. .T., Esq., St. Giles's, Oxford. Spry, E. .T., Esq., Truro. Stephens, Henry Lewis, Esq., Tregcnna Castle, St. Ires, Cornwall (2 copii . Stevens, Edward, Esq., Magdalen Hall, Oxford ; St. Ives, Cornwall. Stevenson, Mrs., The Vicarage, Leigliton Buzzard. Stoke*, Henrj Sewell, Esq., Truro. St rot her, J. Baxter, Esq., Magdalen Hall, Oxford. Trembath, James, Esq., Mayon House, St. Scnnan, Cornwall. Tweedy, E. Bryan, Esq., Fahnoutli. Tweedy, Robert, Ksq., Redruth. Tweedy, W. Mansell, Esq., Alverton, Truro. Tweedy, Mi.-s, Truro Yean, Truro. Vivian, -T. Ennis, Esq., Lemon Street, Truro (late M.P. for Truro) (10 copies). Vivian, ]l. Hussey, Esq., AT. P. for Glamorganshire (late M.P. for Truro) (2 copies). Walton, The Rev. H. B., M A., Merton College, Oxford. Wearne, T. M., Esq., Collector of H.M. Customs, Exeter (2 copies). Whitley, Nicholas, Esq., The Parade, Truro. Williams, Mrs., Burncoose, Cornwall. Williams, Octavius, Esq., The High Cross, Truro. Williams, S. T., Esq., Truro (2 COpi Wrench, The Rev. P. E., B.D., St. George's, Truro. Y I High Cross, Truro. Yongc, Walter, Esq., The Terrace, St. Ives, Cornwall. CONTENTS. Page Introduction ix Miscellaneous Poems 1 A Sacked Melody . 173 A " Peter-Pindaric" . 177 Gkneral Index . 183 INTRODUCTION. Francis Hingeston, the author of the Poems which constitute the present Volume, was born at St. Ives, in Cornwall, on the 27th of November, 1796, and died on the 7th of October, 1841. How little he cared for fame will appear by two quotations from his letters, in many of which the same sentiments are repeated. " Of myself," he writes, in answer to the enquiries of the Historian of Cornwall, the Eev. Richard Pol- whele, " one word is enough. I was educated at the Truro Grammar School, and I had for my school- fellows your two eldest sons, now, I believe, both IN I It V. serving in India. As to my literary productions, they consist chiefly of the few little pieces already in your hands, which have been preserved wholly by accident, and Borne other trifles in prose and verse, which were not worth preserving. They were written only to amuse an Idle hour, of to beguile a weary one." To his brother, Dr. Eingeston, who was always anxious tliat lie should puhlish his verses in a per- manent form instead of consigning them to ladies' scrap-books, or the columns of a newspaper, he wrote on one occasion,- - "You know that I have never followed the .Muse in her high flights; thai I | but a feeble wing and a weak voire, and that all my glory has been to flutter for a momenl upon a sun- beam, to sigh to the wild wind- of my native hills, or to twine a simple garland of field-flowers for some of those Bweel Children of Nature to whom alone my lowly Bongs have owed their inspiration. " ' To ion a sonnet to my mistri bs' eyebrows' has hitherto been all my pride and all my ambition ; INTTCODUCTION. XI and that I could have done this well, I could not have believed, if you had not taught me, more in kindness than in truth, to think so." Nevertheless, the Editor feels sure that all who read the following pages, while they appreciate the modesty which led the Poet so greatly to under- value his own compositions, will recognise, in the very absence of careful study which he acknowledges, that spontaneous flow of song and that freedom from effort which are the great cfyarm of all true Poetry. A few of these Poems were printed by Mr. Polwhele, in his " Biographical Sketches in Corn- wall," published in 1831. "I am indebted," he adds in a note, " to a little scrap-book for all this elegance, and pathos, and pleasantry. The public would eagerly hail a volume of such Poetry." That the numerous friends who still remember the author with affection, and who have long and earnestly desired the publication of the present collection, will do so, there can be no doubt ; and the Editor trusts that even those who knew him not, may find pleasure \n INI R0D1 ' I [ON. iii the perusal of Poems which have t li<- marks of true and unaffected feeling deeply impressed on them, and which were bo highly appreciated and admired in his native county. i.\i ir.R College, 'Oxford. August, 1857. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. B MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. THOU GLORIOUS SEA. Thou glorious Sea ! more pleasing far When all thy waters are at rest, And noon-day sun or midnight star Is shining on thy waveless breast. More pleasing far than when the wings Of stormy winds are o'er thee spread, And every billowy mountain flings Aloft to Heaven its foaming head. Yet is the very tempest dear, Whose mighty voice but tells of thee ; For wild, or calm — or far, or near — I love thee still, thou glorious sea ! b 2 MISi I I I \M ..I - POEMS. IF ALL MY JOYOUS HOURS WERE OONE. If all my joyous hours were gone ; If that enlivening sun were set, Which on my earliest musings shone, And cheers my darkest moments yet : If Love had quenched his sacred flame ; If Hope had hid her fairy light ; And not one dream of pleasure came To soothe my spirit's dreary night : If every vision memory brings Had faded from my sickening view ; And all the rays that fancy flings ( )'lt future hours had vanished too: If all my heart had valued most Of what this gloomy world hath given ; And all the purer joys were lost That holy thoughts bring down from Heaven IF ALL MY JOYOUS HOURS WERE GONE. Still from the light of thy young eyes The darkest clouds of grief would flee, And all the bliss that fate denies, Dear Lady ! might be found in thee ! i 3 M 1 -< II I AM ..I - I'OKJIS. SHE KNOWS IT ALL. She know.-* it all ! Her full dark eye I lath met my looks of fond devotion, And her young heart hath told her why Her glance could give such sweet emotion. She knows it all ! I never spoke A word of love when she could hear me ; The softest sigh hath never broke From my full heart when she was mar me. But yet she knows ! The closest breast That Love hath ever made its dwelling, — The soul thai hides the secret best — In vain would keep the eyes 1 from telling! 1 This is a favourite idea with the poets : indeed it dates at least from the daysof Anacreon. Moore has translated his twenty-seventh < >de thus: — ■' We read the flying courser's name 1 pon his side, in marks of (lame ; SHE KNOWS IT ALL. 7 And, by their turbau'd brows alone, The warriors of the East are known. But in the lover's glowing eyes, The inlet to his bosom lies ; Through them we see the small faint mark, Where Love has dropp'd his burning spark." He gives also, in his note, the following lines by La Fosse, whieh embody the same idea : — " Lorsque je vois un amant, II cache en vain son tourment ; A le trahir tout conspire, Sa langueur, son embarras, Tout ce qu'il peut faire ou dire, Meme ce qu'il ne dit pas." Though the idea may be old, and even hackneyed, it is surely a beautiful one, and I do not think any one will consider that it is disfigured by the new dress in which my Father has clothed it. — Ed. B 4 S MI8CELLAN1 01 - POl H8. Oil! STOP AND WEEP On ! stop and weep — if ever tear Hath gemmed thy eye — hath dewed thy cheek ; The grief that asks thy pity here Nor heart can think, nor tongue can speak. Oh ! stop and weep — 'tis gentle love, 'Tis wild despair and secret woe, 'Tis all the melting heart can move, That bids thy kindred sorrow flow! Oh ! stranger, stop and weep — for Bhe Who lies beneath this lowly stone Had wept, when -lie could weep, for thee, And made thy every pang her own. ( )h ! Btop and weep ! Thy God and mine, Who Bees each tear to virtue given, Will still in love remember thine, And wipe away thy tears in Heaven ! MAY GOD PROTECT THEE, LOVELY ONE! May God protect thee, lovely one ! and make That sickening air as pure — as fresh to thee As the untainted breezes that awake The wild voice of our dark and stormy sea. Oh ! can the Heaven that formed thy full dark eyes To rival its own brightness — can it break The magic of their glory, and bid rise The hectic flush to waste thy cool calm cheek ? Around thee all is beauty — thou, tho' first, Art not alone in loveliness, — the wing Of the light breezes, on the south wave nurst, Spreads o'er the laughing vales the hues of spring. And think not that soft air, whose breath were meet To form the sigh of love, the song of joy, Like a deceiver's whisper — all too sweet — But wooes thy gentle bosom to destroy ! 10 KIBC1 II \M <>i - POEMS. Heaven guards thee as its own — for th<>' thy birth I- but of mortal lineage — v< t I deem Thy matchless beauty is not all of earth: And let the unfeeling sneer at such fund dream, And boast them of the hardness of their hearts, And. in the darkness of their minds, deride The gentle inspiration which impart.-, A pride of soul which mocks their meaner pride ! 11 OH! LOVELY ONE! MY HEART HATH KNOWN. Oh ! lovely one ! my heart hath known The magic of no glance but thine ; And Time, with whom thy faith hath flown, Hath added deeper truth to mine. And other years will pass away, And with them those who lightly sigh ; But love like mine can ne'er decay Till Hope expire, and Memory die ! 12 Mi-.Ti.i wi.'.i - poi us. THY MI'S II A VK NEVER YET I3EEX PRESSED Thy lips have never yet been prest, As lips like thine deserve to be ; No chosen one hath yet been blest — Divinely blest — in blessing thee. Thy young and gentle bosom still No bliss receives — no bliss imparts; It knows not yet what raptures fill The lightning-touch of lovers' hearts. No eyes have ever dared to drink Delusive draughts of joy from thine; No voice hath taught thee yet to think For what their living glories shine. Thou hast not guessed the heavenly flight The radiant wings of love can reach ; Nor learned that lesson of delight, Which I would give my heart to leach I 13 FAREWELL, FAREWELL ! MY HAND CAN TRACE. Farewell, farewell ! my hand can trace But feebly what my heart would say — The thoughts that time can ne'er efface Nor ever absence wear away. Farewell, farewell ! there's not a bliss — If aught of perfect joy there be, Still lingering in a world like this — But what my prayers shall ask for thee ! 14 .Ml-c I I I.AMol H I'OKM.S. oil! LOOK AGAIN! FOR THOSE DAIIK EYES. < )n ! look again ! for those dark eyes Have healing in their tender beams; And in my heart emotions rise, Like those which fdled my waking dreams, When joy could please, and hone could bless, And love was perfect happiness ! Those 1 joyous hours are passed away; Those blissful dreams, alas ! are gone ; And, since, no mild and genial ray Upon my troubled heart hath shone : But now its gentler throbs confess There's BOOthing in thy loveliness ! 1 " This line may seem to have been copied from Moore's beautiful little song, ' Those Evening Bells.' If it were so, I would freely own it; but, in truth, it was written before that song had been seen or beard by me." There is evidently a great similarity of style and character between my Father's poetry ami that of the late Thomas Moore. This strange coincidence, of which I have found the above note among his MSS., is a confirmation of the fact. — Ed. OH ! LOOK AGAIN ! FOR THOSE DARK EYES. 15 Oh ! shine, sweet maid ! still brighter shine, If brighter beams than those can be : I do not hope to call thee mine, For earth hath no such joy for me ; But yet I will not love thee less, Since thou canst soothe my hopelessness ! 16 MIX H.I.AMnl a POJ K8. AND IS THIS THE WHITE ROSE? And is tliis the white rose that I gave you to-day — The flower that I cherished so fondly for you, That I sighed when I ventured to tear it away Breathing freshness and sweetness, and spangled with dew ? Is this the fair flower that I placed on your breast, And called it the emblem of that which it press'd ? Alas ! how its beautiful Leaves are all riven ; Its splendour and glory how transient and vain ; For the breezes that brought it its perfume from Heaven Have stolen the breath of its sweetness again : And is this all the gift that I had to impart — The plight of my love, and the pledge of my heart? Then spurn both the gift and the giver — for, see, Around you are sighing the rich and the gay ; AND IS THIS THE WHITE ROSE? 17 And they offer what cannot be offered by me — Not the breath of a feeble and fugitive lay — Not the fragrance and pride of a perishing flower — But pleasure, and fashion, and grandeur, and power J 18 mi-mi i.anKOUS P0EM8 MAY ALL THE GOOD THAT (iOD BESTOWS. May all the good that God bestows On those He loves the best — The purest, holiest bliss that flows In regions of the blest ; The richest joys of mortal birth — The calmer hopes divine, Which sweetly draw the heart from Earth — May all — may all he thine ! And may'st thou be — but, oh ! the prayer That from my lips would break — Though heard in Heaven and answered there- No living words may speak. For what my kindling bosom fe^le My soul must learn to quell j And, lady! this brief verse conceals More than it dares to tell MAY ALE THE GOOD THAT GOD BESTOWS. 19 Yet o 'er this page — if it were read By thy dark eyes alone, My heart a warmer light would shed — A deeper — softer tone ! o 2 Ml- 1 1.1 AM ■>! - POEMS. THERE IS lil T ONE WHOSE SMILE CAN BLESS There is but one whose smile can bless — Whose gentle voice can charm like thine ; She — matchless in her loveliness, And thou — thou scarcely less divine ! Unrivall'd pair! Too pure, too bright For sock a dark dull world as this: ( Mi ! ye should walk in fields of light, And breathe thai air, whose balm i.- bliss! And ye should rove where angels rove; From every mortal tie be riven ; Should Love, as angels only love ; And your brighl dwelling-place be Heaven I 21 TO A FADED WILD-FLOWER. Sad emblem of my own poor heart — All wither 'd, blighted, lone, and dying — Despis'd and outcast as thou art, Yet, when the morning breeze was flying- All fragrant on its unseen wing, It did not, in the sweetest hour That ever bless 'd the joyous spring, Breathe perfume on a purer flower ! But thou art wither 'd ! not the blast That o'er thy native hill is sweeping — For the wild night-wind, as it pass'd And saw thee on thy heath-bed sleeping, Shining so fair in that pure light, The chaste moon on thy slumbers shed — And breathing sweetness on the night — Its cold hand spared thy lowly head. c 3 22 m» i ii \m '•' a POi us. Not the fierce blasl bath oipp'd thy pride: But, when the Betting sun waa glowing In ruby splendour, and the li\< ? Then breathe Thy Spirit, as at firsl All hallow'd o'er mj soul it came; WRITTEN ON MY BIRTHDAY. 25 Ere on my fever'd senses burst The glow of passion, and the flame That burns unseen, unwept, unknown, Save .to Thy searching eyes alone ! And pour the heavenly balm that heals The wounded spirit, and renew The pure, untainted love that feels No pleasure sacred but the true : The holy ardour, Lord, that burns Seraphic, when to Thee it turns ! 26 Ml-< ELLANE0U8 P01 MS. TO A YOUNG FRIEND ON IIKlt WEDDING-DAY Oh ! fair ami flowery bo tliy way — The skies all bright above thee; And happier every coming day To thee, and those who love thee ! Culm o'er thy soul may Hope arise, Each secret fear beguiling ; And every glance of those blue eyes Be brilliant -till and smiling. And placid be thy gentle heart. And peaceful all around it ; Nor grief, nor gloomy care impart Their cruel pangs to wound it. But loved and loving may's! thou live, The purest bliss possessing, With every joy the world can give, An all I ask — I 11 call thee Friend! 39 OH! SHOULD IT BE MY LOT TO GO. Oh ! should it be my lot to go Far from my native home l away, To muse where distant streamlets flow, And over distant hills to stray ; And hear the wintry billows' roar Sound strangely on another shore; — And should it be my lot to part, From all my soul hath loved the best ; To rend the cords that bind my heart, To quench the hopes that soothe my breast ; And from those dear delights to sever, That should have cheer 'd my path for ever ! 1 St. Ives, in Cornwall. In one of my Father's MSS. these Verses are entitled, " Written on the Prospect of leaving my Native Place." He was always excessively fond of St. Ives, and of its beautiful bay, and — as he writes himself in one of the earlier Poems — of "the wild voice of our dark and stormy sea." He spent the greater part of his early life at St. Ives, and, at the close of his last illness, went there to die. — Ed. d 4 LO |Q8( BLLANEOU8 POEMS. Ami Bhould it be my fate to die Wlnic nut one kin<><\ Himself hath fix'd its throne, Enshrined in Loftier hearts, and tells Of dreams, and thoughts, and things unknown,- Unknown — except to those who rise Above their fellow-men, and hold ( 'ommunion with their kindred skies, And those mysterious leaves untold. Where things, unseen, unthought by man, Are "bodied forth " in words of light, Which only gifted eyes can scan, Which only gifted hands can write! "Ii- theirs — 'ti- theirs ! the pride — the power — The holy fervour caught from Heaven, Which shine- serene in this dark hour, And die- not when life's cord- are riven : — But, like a glory, o'er the spol Where genius -hips, will .-heel it- pay : When all the vain shall !>'■ forgot, And swept in nameless crowds awaj ! WHAT IS PRIDE ? 57 And humble though my part may be Of that bright flame, so pure, so high, Its meanest spark were more to me Than wealth can give, or wealth deny ! And there's another Pride, that glows In hearts of highest, noblest mould, Where the untainted blood that flows Hath rush'd through mightier breasts of old. And this is mine ! Although my race Hath now been long unknown to Fame, 'Tis still my pride — for I can trace The glorious source from whence it came ! e* I feel — I feel in life's warm stream — I feel in each exalted thought, That this is not an idle dream From some vain fancy fondly caught. I feel — but let it pass, — 'twere vain To boast me thus of things of yore ; Yet will the secret sparks' remain, When the pure flame is seen no more ! 58 mm i i i wi <>i - pokms. TO MY HKAKT. Thou tameless thing ! too wild — too wreak Too mean to love — to fear too high, — That wilt not bend, and cans! ool break, Nor dar'.-t to hope, nor deign'st to aigh ; Oh ! dark and Borrowing ! tell me why. [fthy unut tt r"r quell, or check, the electric -tart. Which Fate, in vengeance, hath denied It- Lightning flash from hear! to heart? TO MY HEART. o9 And dost thou yet to memory bring- Some gentle look — some witching tone. And dream 'twas Love's young offering. And no fond fancy of thine own? Say, rather, shouldst thou not have known That she, so fann'd by pleasure's wing, Would smile where Fortune smiled alone, And spurn thee as a worthless thing ? Then learn thee wisdom, and be still ; Or madden more, and dare to burst ; For thou hast surely drunk thy fill Of all that men may call accurst : But, all unslaked, the bitter thirst Is raging yet, nor canst thou spill The spai'kling poison, which at first Despair even rendered sweet, until Her serpent-brood was born and nurst ! (JO M8< BLLANEOUS POl MS. SWEET MAID! .MAY IIKAVKN ON TIIKE HKST< >W ♦ Sweei Maid! may Heaven on thee bestow- Ami Friendship this fond wish inspires — The puresl bliss fchaf mortals know. Thai Fancy dreams, or Hope desires! Serene may ;ill thy prospects be; Celestial joys may'st thou partake As bright as Oman's pearly sea, And calm a- Cachmere's limpid lake Yes, happier may each moment prove, As Fate the scenes of life discloses ; And balmy peace, ami Bmiling love Bring every day a " Feasl of Roses '" 1 It may l>e necessary to mention in this place, in explanation of the allusions to that work, that these Lines were sent by my Father to a Lady with a Copy "t Moore's beautilul Poem, " Lalla Rookh." — Ed. 61 OH! TELL ME NOT OF THOSE WHO FLAUNT. Oh ! tell rue not of those who flaunt In gaudy pride and silken sheen, The gay and fluttering things that want The simple elegance of mien — The native loveliness that Heaven To thee, my lowly maid, hath given ! What though no costly robes bedeck Thy youthful bosom, soft and fair ; What though no gems adorn thy neck, No flowers but Nature's twine thy hair ; Yet round thee living glories rise, And Love's own Heaven is in thine eyes ! What though the scorching summer-ray On thy unshaded beauties shine ; 62 mi- ELLANE0U8 P0EM8. \\'h:it though the breezes freshly plaj Upon those blushing cheeks of thine s Vi i those who shun the Ocean-air, Arc nut bo delicately fair ! And yet I blame ool Fashion's arts, Nor would her changeful laws annul ; The charm which polish'd life imparls Makes beauty still more beautiful : Ah ! no, I only would deride The empty mockery of Pride ! And there is one whom Fashion's power Hath form'd with such enchanting skill, That she, though train'd in hall and bower, Is rich in simple graces still ; Is still the purest, brightest gem In Nature's Bummer diadem ! And though my eyes may seem to rove To other eyes — and though my lays Have hardly dared to sigh of lo\e. Have hardly dared to breathe her praise, - Yet bends my heart alone to her, t Her lowliest — truest worshipper ! 63 THERE'S SUCH A GLORY ON THY CHEEK. There's such a glory on thy cheek, And such a magic grace around thee, That, if I would, I could not break The spell with which thy eyes have bound me. Though all my stubborn heart rebel Against the thraldom of thy frown, — The tameless spirit thou canst quell, And keep the bursting madness down. I vainly struggle to be free, I rouse that withering pride in vain, Whose blight might change my love for thee To fiery hate, or cold disdain. I loathe my very soul that bears To drink thy poisonous love-draughts up, Until my frenzied spirit swears To dash to Earth the dazzling cup. 64 MISCELLANEOUS I'OEMS, Pint I'viTv effbrl ot' my hearl To cui thee offbul draws thee nearer, Ami rage and agony imparl A venom-charm that makes thee dearer. 65 ON THE DEATH OF F. S. K., AN INFANT SIX MONTHS OLD. Thou saw'st the world in summer-pride, And turn'dst from all its smiles away To thy own Heaven — ere thou hadst tried Or gloomy hour, or wint'ry day ! Thou saw'st the face of man, when man Had only looks of love for thee ; Nor didst thou dream, in thy brief span, What strife, or hate, or care might be. Yet mourn we that to thee was given So short a moment here below, That not a sin that angers Heaven, Or poisons life, 'twas thine to know. And we have grieved that thou art flown Back to that dwelling-place divine, Whose holy joys are only known To such untainted hearts as thine ! F 66 MI8< I'' \m ous POEMS. Ami is there aughl thai Bhonld have kepi Our eyes from tears, when < i « »< 1 was moved By our infirmity, and wept O'er the eold grave <>!' him He loveil ? Oh ! is there aught, until we rise Above all grief, or hope, or fear, Should sear the heart, or seal the eyes, When God, in chast'ning love, is near ? 67 LADY! THESE SUNNY LEAVES MAY GLOW. Lady ! these sunny leaves may glow With many a fairer, brighter line ; But not a wish, — a prayer can flow More truly from the heart than mine. And if the peace — the joy be given That prayer would fondly ask for thee, There's scarcely purer bliss in Heaven Than thine, in this low world, will be ! F 2 fifl Ml-i I I I \\| :.| - I'Ol MS All' LADY, THEY WHO FONDLY DKKAM An ! Lady, they who fondly dream Of heavenly visions long gone by, Who, in thoir midnight musings, seem To gaze upon yon glorious sky, Eager, as if they yet could see — Most pure amid the pure stars shining — Some sainted being, that must be For ever with their fond thoughts twining; Their hearts from Earth arc gone for ever, They cannot love again — no, never! Nor is it fit that one so bright — Whose smiles to Earth are only given, In all tluir mild, unclouded light, To shew what Beings dwell in Heaven — That one so exquisite as thou, For whose young heart young hearts are sighing, AH ! LADY, THEY WHO FONDLY DREAM. 69 Should heed that broken spirit's vow, Whose feelings all are dead or dying ; To thy pure heart — to thy young eyes, Love's earliest, holiest flames should rise ! F o 70 MiMjr.i.i \M 01 - POBMB. MAY'ST THOU BE HAPPTI May'st thou be happy ! more than this The fondest prayer would vainly Bay : And, if there be some form of bliss Whose sunshine passeth not away, — Some pure delight, where Earth and Beaven Are join'd, as in that blest abode — That first bright Eden, kindly given To man, ere he had anger'd God. — Such joy be thine — if from above Such joy may linger yet below ; And, since there must be tears, may Love Remove them gently, as they flow ! 71 LINES WRITTEN IN A LADY'S ALBUM. God bless thee, gentle one ! — and lead thee on Through life's too tempting but delusive way, Thy Guide in Youth, and, when thy Youth is gone, In age — in death — thy comfort and thy stay ! Thy shelter from the storm, if storms should blow ; Thy shade, if Fortune's fervid sun should rise ; Thy shield — thy refuge — and thy hope below, And thy abiding glory in the skies ! F 4 72 MISCELLANEOUS PO] U8. THE GLOOMIEST DAY HATH GLEAMS OF LIGHT. The gloomiest day hath gleams of light; The darkest wave hath bright foam near it ; And twinkles through the cloudiest night Some solitary star to cheer it. The gloomiest soul is not all gloom ; The saddest heart is not nil sadness; And sweetly o'er the darkest doom There shines some lingering beam of gladness. Despair is never quite despair ; Nor Life — nor Death — the future closes; And round the shadowy brow of care Will Hope and Fancy twine their roses. 73 PART OF A LONGER POEM. 1 Divine Enchantresses ! may Time Bear on his rosy wings for you The blossoms of that heavenly clime — The balm of that celestial dew : All — all the fruits, and all the flowers, For virtue still preserved on high, His infant hand in Eden-bowers Had gather'd ere he learn'd to fly ! O fairest forms of mortal birth, May more than mortal bliss be given ; And all the richest joys of Earth Receive for you a taste of Heaven ! 1 After a long hunt among loose MSS. for the " longer Poem," with a view to its being published entire, I was much disappointed to fiud that these pretty Lines were the only portion of a long set of Comic Verses which I could possibly insert without running the risk of paining friends who are still living. — Ed. \ii-i i i i \M "i - P01 MB. Pass nil your peaceful hours away, Serenely fair, and purely brighl ; And welcome still each nappy 'lay W'iih smiles of love and looks of light ! Yes beauty in a Poet's eyes Is ever sacred and adored : No saint, whose holy thoughts arise In worship to his Heavenly Lord, Ere felt a fervour more di\ ine Than that which fills my spirit now, When prostrate at it- radiant -1 1 1 i no, In lowly reverence I how. 75 SWEET LADY! IF MY HEART MIGE1T GUESS. Sweet Lady ! if my heart might guess, When sighs are vain, and words forbid, Where thy fair cheeks' young loveliness, And where thy full dark eyes are hid, — How would I dwell in that dear spot, How fondly would I dream of thee, And think, although I saw thee not, It would be too much bliss to see ! Like some pure worshipper, whose eyes Are raised to Heaven in silent prayer, And, though they cannot pierce the skies, And view th' undying glories there ; Still are they fix'd, in eager gaze, Upon that starry veil, whose light But shadows the eternal rays Which never shone on mortal sight ! 76 MISCELLANEOUS 1*01 Mi OH! WHY RESERVE THIS PAGE FOR MEP 1 ( )n ! why reserve tin- page fur me ? My weary heart hath long forgot — Not truest love for thine and thee, — For thai \>nrr flame expireth aol : Hut -till it hath forgotten long The ardours thai awake to song. 1 It was originally my intention to have inserted these Lines at the end of the Collection, hut having since fixed upon another Poem for the last place, F have inserted them here among other con- t ributions to Ladies' Scrap-Books. Moore wrote in a similar strain : — •' I Lit U one leaf reserved f<>v me, From all thy sweet memorials free ; And lure my simple song might tell The feelings thou must guess so well. But could I thus, within thy mind, One little vacant corner find, Where no impression yet is seen, Where no memorial ye1 hath b < >li ! it should he my sweetest (are To write my name lor ever there !" — Ed. On ! WHY RESERVE THIS PAGE FOR ME ? 77 And yet, methinks, that looks like thine Might win the Muses back again ; Though deaf to every prayer of mine, They cannot let thee ask in vain So small a boon — the simple lays Which came unbid in other days. But so it is — I might as well Seek to recall departed hours, As strive to break the icy spell That time hath woven o'er my powers — Ah ! no, my prayers may be preferr'd, But never more my songs be heard. 7y MISCELLANEOUS POl M8. I NKVKI! BASK'D IN SUCH TURK LIGHT. I never bask'd in such pure liglit As from tliy full dark eyes \& breaking; 1 never gazed on smiles so bright, Nor heard such sounds as thou art speaking ! My heart hath never beat so high, Hath never drunk such draughts of gladness, Although I know 'twere vain to sigh — To hope — to dream — 'twere more than madness. Yes it is -wcet to see thee near ; There's such a magic charm about thee, That Earth is Heaven, when thou art here, And Heaven — were scarely Heaven without thee ! 79 TO A LADY, ON HER BIRTHDAY Lady ! the hour that gave thee birth, — When every bright young flower was blowing, And all the loveliest things of earth Were in their summer splendour glowing ; When skies were blue, and stars were bright, And leaves were still, and winds were sleeping, And round thee God's own spirits of light, Unheard — unseen — their watch were keeping; When joyous hearts to thine were prest, And smiles of speechless love were gleaming, And o'er thy smiling Parent's breast Thy first young looks were sweetly beaming, — That bright — bright hour, whate'er may come In future days — or sad or cheering — Will be where'er my heart may roam Of all its thoughts the most endearing ! SO Ml- I I.I.AM 01 ~ P01 US. oil! LADY, WHILE THY PRAYERS A.SCEND. 1 On ! Lady, while thy prayers ascend — All pure and holy — to the skies, My heart, alas, can only bend To the calm heaven of thy dark eyes. But in that rwr bless'd aboiV For souls like thine prepared above, Kindling around tin throne of God The brightest beams are beams of love ! And if, in that high world, 'tis true Such sacred feelings had their birth — Say, is it wrong to own them too Amid the holiest scenes of Earth ? 1 After some hesitation, I have broken the resolution which I had made of omitting these Lines; for, after all, they air natural enough, and surely the last beautiful Verse will redeem anything which might be calculated to give rise to misapprehension or cavilling in those which precede it. — Ed. OU! LADY, WHILE THY PRAYERS ASCEND. 81 Say, is it wrong in God's own hour, In God's own Temple, is it wrong, When bends our soul beneath the power Of holy word and sacred song, — Oh ! is it wrong, in praise and prayer. To join one sinless thought of thee ? — Thyself the loveliest image there Of Heaven's unclouded purity ! G B2 MIBCELLAN1 01 - POEMS. I GO, I GO, BUT NEVER. I go, I go — but never, WTiate'er my fate may be, SI inll time or absence sever .My heart, my soul from thee ! I go, I go, in sadness ; Yet should I not repine, Since thoughts allied to gladness M;iy even yet be mine. For there's a holy feeling, When every hope is flown, And lovers' sighs are stealing To those they love unknown : When every vain emotion Is lost in one like this — The deep unfathom'd Ocean To meaner streams of bliss. I GO, I GO — BUT NEVETC. 83 And thus for thee I cherish A love that cannot die, And joys that will not perish, And thoughts that pass not by. But though no tie that binds me Can ever quite be riven, Yet love like this reminds me Of loving One in Heaven : All beauty disregarded ; All other joys forgot ; The world itself discarded, As though the world were not. For e'en should Fortune bless me, 'Twere worthless all, and vain ; Should gloomy cai'e oppress me, I shall not feel the pain. For what were joy or sorrow, Or love, or hate, to me — Unless, sweet maid, they borrow Their light, their shade, from thee ? G 2 84 U1801 II \\i ■•! - POl MS. LADY, FROM THEE I CANNOT PART. Lady, from thee I cannot pari With angry look or clouded brow, Though thou should'st trample on my heart, Or mock me as thou mock'st me now. Though thou shouldn't wound that tameless pride Which scorn nor hate could ever break ; Whose stern resolve hath still denied The softer words my heart would speak. Though thou wert cold as Zembla's snows, Or dark as Fate, or false as II' II. My fondest prayer with 1hee should go, My gentlest voice should say — Farewell ! 85 THOSE FULL DARK EYES. IN IMITATION OF MOORE'S " EVENING BELLS. Those full dark eyes, those full dark eyes — What pure and blissful thoughts arise : What dreams of love, and joy, and heaven, By every tender glance are given ! But now their living light shall shine On gayer, happier hearts than mine ; And bards of sweeter song shall prize The lustre of those full dark eyes. Yet o'er my soul, through many a day, Shall linger still their parting ray ; And, e'en when Hope's bright spirit flies, Shall Memory love those full dark eyes. g 3 86 Ml-< l.u. .\i...i - [>OEMS II EVERY FLOWER THAT BREATHES AROUND 1 1 every flower that breathes around, Ami every fragrant shrub should die, And not one dew-drop gem the ground, .Nor one bright eloud adorn the sky ; Should this enchanting Eden be Changed to a dreary wilderness ; Yet, Lady, if it lose not thee, It will not seem to blossom less. For what are shrubs, and what are flowers. That bloom and die to be forgot ? And what the brightest Bummer bowers Where lovely woman's -mile? are not ? 87 EVENTIDE. A FRAGMENT. 'Twas Evening, and with Evening came The charms of that enchanting hour, And stars of pure and lambent flame Shone sweetly on the myrtle bower, And every floweret, bright and fair, Shed its rich fragrance on the air. 'Twas Evening, and with Evening came The summer glory of the West, And skies of gold and seas of flame Received the glowing Sun to rest, Which purer, fairer, lovelier shone When all his dazzling rays were gone. G 4 vs U1S< Ml LNKOUS POl US. \. i N i: S A\i> is the "lyric Peter" dead — That soul of fun, that life <>f whim 2 — Without a stone above his head, A bust to look and smile like him ! Forbid it all who loved his lyre, Who knew his wit, his worth, to prize. Who ever saw the living fire Which kindled in his sparkling eyes. Who ever felt that holy flame To every son of genius given, — The proudest boast of earthly lame, The purest, brightest gift of Heaven. 1 Written in reference to a proposal, which appeared in the " Western Luminary," for erecting a monument in memory of .. Pete* Pindar" (Dr. Wolcot). 7 "That soul df pleasure, and that life of whim." — Pope. LINES. 89 Yes, these the hallowed shrine shall raise Above his couch of sacred sleep ; And those who laugh'd at Peter's lays Shall gather round his tomb to weep. 90 Ml-< IMAM "I - I'-. I MS. TO AN INFANT FRIEND. WUITTEN ON THE NIGHT OF HIS BIKTH. Tnou hast not seen the sunlight yet, Thy Mother's eyes alone have blessM thee, Though round thee anxious hearts are met, And fond young arms in love have press'd thee ! Thou hast not seen thy Father's face; Thou hast not felt him yet bestow That trembling, thrilling, first embrace Whose rapture none but Parents know. A stranger to the world art thou, Its sins — its sorrow- all unknown — The deathless pane;- thai cloud a brow Ami wring a bosom like my own ! TO AN INFANT FRIEND. 91 And niay'st thou find life's tempting cup A cup of sweets alone to thee, And wonder, if thou drink it up, Where all its bitter drops could be ! And, oh, sweet babe, to thee be given Unclouded hope, unsullied joy ; And every prayer be heard in Heaven Thy Mother offers for her boy ! 92 HI8GELLANS01 - POl MS. (HI! LADY, THOUGH MY HEART O'ERFLOWS. On! Lady, though my heart overflows With joy — with ecstacy divine, The only fire my bosom knows Is some bright fervour caught from thine. I only smile with bliss sincere When thy unrivall'd blushes rise, When thy pure heart is kindling near — Filling with glory thy young eyes ! 93 MY HARP BY THE COLD HAND OF SORROW IS RIVEN. 1 My harp by the cold hand of sorrow is riven, And the hope that once waked it hath vanish'dto Heaven ; But broken, alas, as its sweet chords may be, Its wild notes have music, oh Lady, for thee ! Fair flow'ret of beauty ! may all the bright rays Of pleasure that gladden the spring of thy days, Still calm on the bloom of thy summer repose — As true to thy heart as the sun to the rose ! And when all the raptures of youth shall be o'er, And thy " lovely companions " be lovely no more, May Time, as he scatters thy Earth-flowers abroad, Bring thee garlands of light from the Eden of God ! 1 These Lines were sent to a young Lady in return for a Copy of Moore's popular song — " 'Tis the last Rose of Summer." 9 I M18< i i I LNB01 - MM KB. Yes, when the bright hues of thy beauty decay, And fade, like " the last rose of summer," away ; When thy sweet voice shall lose all the Heaven of its tone, And the beautiful light of thy bright eyes he gone, — Then, Lady, oh, then, in thy glory's decline, May the heart that thou lovest draw closer to thine; And bo calm thy last hours that "this bleak world" may be, In its winter and sunset, a bright world to thee ! 95 'T'Q * * * * " Round her she made an atmosphere of light."— Byron. Had I beheld thee in that dreamy day When Beauty's magic influence could beguile, My raptured Muse, in many a love-lorn lay, Had fondly wooed the witchery of thy smile. For thou art fair, as exquisitely fair — As purely, freshly, beautifully bright — As e'er to Poet's dream or Poet's prayer Hath shone some vision from the Realms of Light ! And even in worship to a form like thine 'Twere scarcely wrong to kneel — for thou art given In thy young loveliness — almost divine — To draw our wandering passions back to Heaven. 96 mim mi uncoua pokms. And humbly to thy radiant Bhrine I l»ring My lowly meed of verse — the Poet's lad — Ami, Lady, spurn not this mean offering, For, ah ! my day of Poetry is past, — And deeper thoughts arc gathering in my brain, And feelings more intense around my heart. Than may beseem that light unmeaning strain — My utmost mastery in the Poet's ait. My lyre is in the dust — this hand no more Shall wake its chords to music — but 'twill be My pride, when all my little fame is o'er, To think its lafesi notes were given to thee ! 97 THOU MOURNFUL BARD! 1 Thou mournful Bard ! if thou could'st know What eyes o'er thy sad page are weeping ; What gentle tears of sorrow flow O'er the cold grave where thou art sleeping ; If thou, from other worlds, could'st see What fairy hands are fondly twining A fragrant wreath of Fame for thee, Where all thy own loved flowers are shining ; 1 Fortescue Hitchins. These Lines were written on the Fly-leaf of his Volume, " The Sea Shore, and other Poems." " Saint Ives was charmed," writes the Historian of Cornwall, " with Fortescue Hitchins, but still more by Francis Hingeston," who began to write just as the earlier Poet ceased. It is somewhat singular that their initials should have been the same. — Ed. ii 98 MISCELLANEOUS PO] MS. [f thy unwaking sleep could dream \ \ " 1 1 «- 1 1 pure ami lender hearts are sighing,- Thy gentle ~|»irit well ought deem Such ]>ity cheaply bought l»y dying! 99 THY MOTHER'S TEARS *' Oh ! there were hearts, and breaking hearts for thee ; Hut mine were nothing, had I such to give ! " — Byron. Thy Mother's tears, thy Mother's tears , Which cannot cease to flow ; And, passing not with passing years, Thy Father's silent woe : Oh ! these sublimely tell thy doom Beyond what words can reach ! And shall I then profane thy tomb, By vain and idle speech ? And these, in years when all beside Have ceased to mourn thy lot, When e'en thy Sisters' eyes are dried, Thy Brothers' grief forgot ; h 2 KM) mi-, ii i LNBOU8 POBHB. When friends — aye it was well for thee Thou didsf not live to know How few, how very few there be To whom that name we owe ! — When Friends, e'en those who best might claim Thai dear and holy tie. Will hoar, perchance, will speak thy name. Ami Bcarce accord a sigh. Then these, thy Buffering Mother's tears, Thy Father's silent -woe, Undried — unheal'd through years and years, Thy early doom shall shew. 101 FOR THE POST-WOMAN AT CHRISTMAS. 1 Another year — and urging still With patient step my daily task, And thanking Him whose Heavenly will Gives all my lowly heart would ask The Christian's all of earthly good — Labour, and health, and peace, and food ! Thus cheerful still, tho' old and poor, I bring my annual meed of song, And leave at every friendly door, As on my way I toil along, As best beseems this joyous time, My prayers and wishes all in rhyme ; — 1 These Lines were written tor " old Jenny Deason," who for many years delivered the letters at Falmouth : they were sent in wiili the letters at every house, — a mure than ordinarily eloquent pica lor a Christmas-box. 102 Mi-. M I LNKOU8 POEMS. My prayers and wishes! — And may He Who e'en His meanest follower's call 1 tespiseth not, for < n er be In lci\ e ;iml mercy Dear you all — Your constant miidc, and liclp and stay, As years -hull come and pass away ! Nor eause my aged feel to know The fearful errand of his wrath, Bui brightly shed, where'er I go, The lighi of joy around my path ; And make me, till my Labours cease, The kindly messenger of peace ! And oow, at thi> auspicious tide Of social cheer, and Christian mirth, When sordid greed, and scornful pride Are banish'd from the genial health. And every glowing thoughl is given In cheerful thankfulness to Heaven ! When, gathering round your festal board, With blissful looks and sounds of glee, FOR THE POST-WOMAN AT CHRISTMAS. 103 The loved and parted are restored, — Think that in absence still to me You owed the tidings day by day, That wiled the weary hours away. And let not, midst the general cheer, My little claims be quite forgot ; But cause the joy that crowns the year To gladden e'en my lowly cot : And know that bounty thus bestow'd — To bless the poor — is lent to God ! II 4 104 MISCELLANEOUS r< >i MS. THOU KNOW'ST NOT YKT \\ll.\l CARE MAY BE. Thou know'st nol yel what care may be- Beneath tht.' pleasant shade Thy Parents' love hath Bpread for thee Thy summer-bower Is made. Ami wintry winds are far awaj From those delightful flowers Which hurst and bloom so fair and gay In youth's enchanting bowers. lint tin)' not all so fair as this Thy future years may glide ; Bui griefs come darkening o'i r thy bliss, Like shadows o'er the tide ; Y< t murmur not — tin- joy and woe Come both alike from Heaven ; And, mingled thus, to all hdow The cup of Life is g iven ! 105 SAY, SPIRIT OF THE ROCKY STEEP. Say, spirit of the rocky steep — ' I hear thee as thou passest by — When o'er thy shrine the black clouds sweep. And when the mountain -gale is high, — Say, is the wild and lonely hill To thy immortal musings dear ; And dost thou love to linger still In solitude and silence here ? 1 The rocky eminence above St Ives, on which Knill's Monument stands. John Knill, a most eccentric character, was for many years the Collector of Customs at the port of St. Ives ; and, during his lifetime, erected a tall triangular obelisk on this hill, intending it for his own tomb. It bears on its three sides, respectively, the inscriptions — "John Knill," "I know that my Redeemer liveth," " Resurgam." He was not buried there, however ; but, according to the directions in his will, at St. Andrew's, Holborn. He died on the 29th day of March, a.d. 1811. He left certain moneys, and directed that, on every fifth year, a certain number of old women and young girls should walk in procession to the hill from St. Ives, and dance round the obelisk, while the Town Council were enjoying a good dinner, for the provision of which he also left funds. From the summit of this rocky and most romantic spot both channels can be >een. 106 m& 111 unsous roi n& And le thai 'lurk and changeful sea — It- boundless range, its billowy swell — As d( ar as it was wonl to b For once thoa [ov'dsi its murm'ring well And till me— for I dare to hold Such awful converse with the dead, — When tliis weak heart of mine is cold, And lowly laid this weary head, — Shall I, too, love the lonely spot, Hallow'd by every feeling now; ( )r will its rude charms be forgot, It- rushing winds, its rocky brow? 107 AND MUST THOU GO? And must thou go, sweet Lady, say, Obedient to thy sire's command ; And bear my weeping heart away A captive to some foreign land ? Why wilt thou from these vales remove, Made happy by thy smiles so long — Those smiles which charm the soul to Love, And wake the plaintive lyre to song? No ! cross no more the western main, No more of distant countries dream, Nor pant to see the fields again Where the proud Hudson pours its stream ! 1 These Lines were composed for a young girl on her leaving St. Ives to rejoin her Parents in the United States. — En. 108 MISCELLANEOUS POl MS, < Hi ! could I range the world with thee, \N nli thee be borne from zone to zone. All clime.- win then alike to me, Ami each were happier than mine own 1 For now . alas, my nath e short . To this fond bosom onrc so dear, With nil its charms, ran please no more, Unless thou kindly linger here! 109 OH, TELL ME NOT ! Oh, tell me not of those vain joys The world can give — the world deny ; No more I prize the fleeting toys We pawn our peace of mind to buy ! The light of yon dark eyes may glow As pure as His Who bade them shine ; I bend no more to aught below, I kneel no more at Beauty's shrine. Upon that summer sky to gaze, To ponder on that broad bright sea, To mark Thy love in all Thy ways, And raise my soul, O God, to thee. To such high thoughts my heart aspires ; With such pure joys my breast would swell Adieu, vain hopes and fond desires, Thou tempting world — farewell, farewell! 1 10 mim ! ii \m <>i 9 POEMS. oil KEEP THY BONGS FOll ME! Oh keep thy songs for me, my Lovl Oh k< ill \\i ..i - i "i US. Then Btay, gentle Zephyr, we sigh n> thou goest, Tho' vainly, alas, we forbid thee to flee; Thou are parted — and this ie the moral thou show Thai pleasure is transient and fleeting like thee! 113 ON FANCY. PART OF A LONGER POEM. And Fancy hath a fairy land — unknown To those who mock her musings, — she can fill That bright enchanted Eden of her own With summer-sky, blue wave, and flowery hill, And people its glad vales with forms that move The pensive heart with more than mortal love. And I have wander'd on that fairy ground, ' And I have talk'd with spirits, and my soul From the dark thraldom of its fears unbound ; And, spurning Fate and Fortune's base control, And mocking the cold sneer of heartless pride, Have drunk of joys to sordid slaves denied! 'Tis true — whatever in that region shone, Owed all its charms and all its loveliness, i 114 ftOSCELLANBOl B POEMS. 1 1- freshness, sweetness, beauty — all to one, Whose form was ever mingling, more or less, With every Hcavcn-born vision of delight, Making that bright Elysium yet more bright, - To one, the light of whose dark eyes might make The sunshine of an Eden more divine Than ever Fancy dream'd of; and might wake More thrilling transports in this heart of mine Than all the pleasures Earth hath ever given, Or all the hoped-for joys denied by Heaven ! 115 OH, COME TO THE RIVER! Oh, come to the river ! oh, corne to the river, That murmurs so sweet as it ripples along ! It will murmur a thousand times sweeter than ever If you teach it to echo the notes of your song. How dear is that song ! I was blest when I heard it ; And now, tho' I list to its accents no more, I remember the hour when I said I preferr'd it To all the sweet strains that had pleased me before. And if such were its charm when the wild winds of Ocean Rudely bore it away as it rose from thy heart, Oh, think how our bosoms will throb with emotion, When it lingers around, and seems loth to depart ! • Written on the banks of the Fal, a beautiful tidal river, which flows from Truro, with a winding course, through the woods of Tregothnan, the seat of Viscount Falmouth, and empties itself into Falmouth Harbour. — Ed. I 2 1 16 MISCELLANEOUS PORMS. OH, TAKE THAT LOVELY HAND AWAY! On, take that lovely hand away — Too finely form'd, too soft and fair ! Those fingers on my pulses play, And make a painful music there. Why would'st thou marshal all thy arms Against a heart thy smiles subdue ? The mistress of a thousand charms Should kindly conquer with a li-w ! E'en when thy eyes forget to shine, The roses from thy cheeks remove, The ruby from those lips divine, — That hand alone may wake to love ! 117 TO THE MOON. Dear orb of night, serene and fair, Oh, let thy mild and gentle ray Illume a child of grief and care, And cheer him on his lonely way! He loves, beneath those starry skies, To wander silent and alone ; To hear the dewy night-wind's sighs — As short and bursting as his own. The evening hath a gentle power, Which only those who weep can feel, A softness, in her silent hour, To soothe the pangs she cannot heal. For never will his soul foi'get The secret cause of all its pain ; That sun which so untimely set, And never, never rose again! i 3 I I s Mix BLLAMSOU8 P01 US. Hut -till, fair .Moon, 'tis thine t<> giv< A balm for every human woo, And holier hopes than those who I'm In earthly joy ean ever know. Yes; let him range, sweet Queen of Night ! Through Fancy's fairy realms of blise : And, on thy silvery wings of light, Be borne above a world like this. And let thy pleasing influence still A dear forgetfulness impart, And with a sweet delirium till The musings of a broken heart. 119 OH, MATCHLESS ARE THY BLOOMING CHEEKS Oh, matchless are thy blooming cheeks, When those young blushes rise; And matchless is the light that breaks In glory from thine eyes ! And matchless is that witching strain Which thou canst wake so well ; And matchless is the joy or pain That lingers round its spell ! But blushing cheek, and sparkling eye, And tuneful voice, to me Are dear no more — my soul should die Ere bend again to thee ! 1 4 [20 MIm I I.I.ANI wl - poi tss. SONNET. TO THE ONLY UELL IN THH CUURCII TOWER AT ST. 1VEB, CORNWALL. Thou lone old bell ! thy melancholy note — Whose gentle echoes on the night-wind's wing In fitful sounds of deepening sadness float, And mingle with the sen-wave's murmuring — Thy note is sweet, thou solitary bell ! 'Tis a memorial and a prophecy : It speaks not of the present, but may tell Of woes to come — of joy and peace gone by ; — Of those who loved me and have ceased to weep; Of those for whom I wept who loved me not ; And of that dreary night of dreamless sleep, When bliss and woe shall be alike forgot, And cold and peaceful this sad heart shall be, Hi eding no more thy .sounds of dull monotony ! 121 BELIEVE NOT, LADY, THOSE WHO SAY. Believe not, Lady, those who say That Pleasure flies as we pursue ; That Love's bewitching smiles betray, That Rapture's sighs are all untrue. If Sages teach — if Poets sing That tears and sorrows are our lot, — That all our future hours can bring Is care and pain — believe them not ! No ! there are joys to mortals given — Effulgent beams of bliss divine — As pure as light, as true as Heaven ; And, oh, may all those joys be thine ! 122 mi-, i i.i am OUfl P0EM8. S N G. II->w long appear the gloomy hours That keep me from my Love away! Oh, haste the moments, Heavenly Power-. And quicker, cpuicker, speed the day ! Why dost thou, Time, so slowly move, With lingering step, through Sorrow's vale,- Whilst o'er the blissful paths of Love Thy wings are fleeter than the gale? 123 TO HOPE. Hail, gentle Spirit ! let thy light Beam sweetly on a sorrower's way : Beneath thy star, so purely bright, He loves, and ever loved to stray. Oh, Heavenly Hope ! tho' clouds be spread O'er all the future — all the past, Still shine on my devoted head, And guide and cheer me to the last ! 124 Ml.-' ELLANEOUG POEMS. A V A 11 E W E L L. Dear Lady ! the light of thy glance may be given To the stranger who never beheld thee before, And the ties that unite thee to home may be riven, And the scenes of thy youth be rcmember'd no more ! Far, far from the spot where thy young hours have glided, And far from the hearts that are sighing for thee, And far from the Friends to whose breasts were confided All thy fears and thy pleasures — thy dwelling may be. But whether the world and its sorrows shall sadden, Or thy path be as bright as the Eden above, Whatever may grieve, or whatever may gladden May the home of thy heart be a refuge of love ! 125 OH, LOVELY ONE ! TO THY YOUNG EYES. Oh, lovely one ! to thy young eyes If my fond heart could pour its prayer, And tell thee every thought that lies Hid in eternal silence there ; — If I could breathe the thoughts that burn Within my breast, unseen, unknown ; Perchance thy very pride might spurn A prouder spirit than thy own, — Perchance, thy very pride might be Won by a soul that could not brook — Although it bend so low to thee — One scornful word — one frigid look. 126 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Oil, PRIZED AND LOVED TIIROUOII MANY A YEAR ! Oh, prized and loved through many a year Of pain and sorrow past away ! Why should'st thou, Lady, blush to hear — Why should I think it wrong to say — How near in pure regard thou art To the best feelings of my heart ! And yet my inmost thoughts of thee The sinless eye of God might see, Nor would it dim one ray of light That shines around the eternal throne, If of the angels the most bright Such thoughts of mortal-kind should own. A sister's love I ne'er have known. But it hath ever seem'd to be Like that regard which thou hast shown, The same in weal or woe, for me. OH, PRIZED AND LOVED THROUGH MANY A YEAR ! 127 Nor were I worthy to be bless'd With friendship so sincere and true, Unless my very soul confess'd Esteem as pure, as sinless too. IL'N KT8CELLANB01 - POEMS. TO A LADY ON HER SATING Mill: DID KOT III. I. II. Vi: MB. Believe me, or believe me not ; But, if to me the power were given My every idle word to blot From that bright record kept in Heaven ; It' all my lips have ever said, If all my eyes, my heart would say, If every secret thought were read, And what I wish'd were swept away ; — I would not from the eternal Book — If such, indeed, were Heaven's decree — Erase a word, a thought, a look, I ever gave, sweet maid, to thee. 129 TRANSLATION OF A PRIZE ODE. 1 FROM THE LATIN. O thou whose favour'd sceptre Heaven defends, To whose mild rule a mighty Empire bends, Whose matchless glory, like thy boundless sway, Outruns the light, and still salutes the day : O'er other realms the sun may set or shine, — It glows for ever on some land of thine ! Thee the far nations own their Sire, their King ; To thee come blessings on the Zephyr's wing ; 1 On the occasion of the visit of George IV. to Scotland in the year 1822, a gold medal was given by the King to the Uni- versity of Edinburgh, to be bestowed on the student who should produce the best Latin Ode in celebration of the Royal visit. The number of competitors was very large, and the medal was awarded to my Uncle, Dr. Hingeston, afterwards of Queen's College, Cam- bridge, for a set of Alcaics. The above translation was made by my Father in September, 1822.— Ed. K 130 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Ami India's son, whate'er bis faith may be, Prays to his Prophet or hie Stream for thee. How great, how pure the ecstacies thai rise When thy proud banner greets our northern skies! While joyous thunders, from ESdina's crest, Disturb with welcome noise the Muse's rest. Now Scotland bounds with bliss untasted long, And rouses all her mountain-tops to song ; She bids her towns rejoice, her valleys sing, And her glad children flock to hail their King ! To thee our hearts, our voices all arc given. For thee a nation's shout ascends to Heaven, O mighty Prince ! Thy grateful subjects own Thy gentle sway is fix'd in love alone ; And fondly round thy honour'd throne repair; And bend, and offer faithful homage there ! Illustrious Monarch ! though we spend our years Within the peaceful dome that Learning rears, Safe in thy might, and in thy favour blest, We raise the modest flowers that please thee best ; TRANSLATION OF A PRIZE ODE. 131 Strangers to war, yet should the trumpet's breath Call forth thy subjects to the field of death, At thy command, or ere thou gavest command, First in the ranks of honour would we stand. But happier task awaits us : now we raise Amid our lofty halls the song of praise ; The flying breeze, swift messenger of fame, Bends from its high career to catch thy name ! And still — while these eternal portals rise High 'mid etherial light and azure skies, — Still shall their roofs resound the exulting lay That bids thee welcome on our shores to-day. Long, Sovereign of the Free ! may'st thou retain The towering glories of thy splendid reign ; Long rule, as thou hast ruled, with gentle hand, The ancient cities of our envied land : Till, having run thy course, thine eyes shall see A realm more glorious still reserved for thee, — May see, as thou thy earthly charge lay'st down, The spotless throne— the amaranthine crown ! K 2 132 MISCELLANEOUS POl US, THE TWO THEMES.' The lofty Bard on Angels' wings, — To few, alas ! such flights are given, — Mounts, like the blazing star he sings, And wanders through the paths of Heaven. And yet I envy not his fame, Though dear the voice of praise may be ; For dearer is an humbler flame, And dearer softer songs to me. Yes ; let him range the fields of Light, Where Comets rove, and Planets >hine ; His Theme may be divinely bright, But is not half so bright as mine ! 1 These Lines were sent to a Lady with a copy of James Hogg's " Address to the Comet." — Ed. 133 TO THE EVENING BREEZE. *' Aura veni." — Ovid. Met. The sun hath lost his vivid glare, And softly silver/s o'er the stream ; Come, fan the evening, gentle air, And sport upon the parting beam ! I love to feel the western gale ; I love to hear the Zephyr sigh ; To tell the winds my mournful tale, And bid them spread it as they fly. Their balmy breath, so dear before, Is dearer now a thousand times, Since hither on their wings they bore The matchless maid of distant climes. K 3 134 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. A- punting on her heavenly fat As on her heaving breast they blow. They heighten every magic grace, Ami bid her eyes — her blushes glow. Ami while those blooming beauties live, While Memory shall those charms prolong, Whatever strains the Muse may give, Still this shall be my favourite song : The sun hath sunk behind the trees, And gold-clouds deck the closing day ; Come from the cv'ning, gentle breeze, And sport upon the parting ray ! 135 INSCRIPTION FOR AN ALCOVE, IN A FRIEND'S GARDEN. Hush, softly tread this lowly shade, Where holy Silence loves to dwell, — Nor let the sounds of mirth invade The stillness of her lonely cell ! 'Tis her's to give that sweet repose, To every child of sorrow dear j And he whose wounded spirit knows No healing balm may find it here ! K 4 136 MlM I. |.l. .\M... I - |'..| us, TO » » * * thou, the magic Mistress of my songs ! Object of every hope, of every fear, Sun of my day-dreams, and the guiding star Of all my midnight wanderings ; do I hear Thy heavenly voice, soft as the Lydian lute, And silver-sounding as the Angel's harp ? Hail, lovely songstress ! and ye gentle notes, Which oft have pleas'd me, if there be delight In that soft moment, when the trembling soul, Alive to every impulse, and awake Alike to pain and pleasure, pants and sighs A- joy or grief prevail, — and knows not why. 1 love that tender strain, so soft and sweet ; It trembles on my heart-strings, like the breeze Which fans the sultry evening and desports Upon the parting sunbeam. There are hours When, pond'ring on the varied ills of life, to * * * *. 137 A prey to gloomy phantoms, and distrest With painful fears and sad remembrances, Sick of the past, and hopeless of the future, I yield me up to sorrow and despair : In such an hour that gentle song might soothe me, Revive the latent fire of kind affection, Teach my poor heart it yet had room for pleasure, And rouse its eddying pulses into life : In such an hour I'll think of that sweet song ; I'll think of thee, and wish thee there to sing it. Now Fancy, sporting in the smiling fields Of love and joy, hath form'd a blooming wreath — Thine own bright emblem — where the rival flowers, In gay confusion blended, smile together, And, kindly intertwining, kiss each other ; For thee 'tis woven : oh ! accept the gift, Though humble, and as worthless as the giver ! • : ' s MIm I I.I.ANKOUS l'"l M-. VOICES OF THE NIGHT. The summer sea serenely sleeps Beneath the wild and rocky shore, And not a breeze its bosom sweeps, Nor sound, but that of yonder oar — Now slowly in the calm wave dipping, Now with a thousand sea-stars dripping. Who has not seen on such a night, When aught hath broke the Ocean's rest, The purest gems of liquid light Burst forth upon its ruffled breast — And, aa they rise and spread, appear Like a new sky just forming there ! It is the hour when Fancy loves To diadow forth her forma sublime ; VOICES OF THE NIGHT. 139 It is the hour when Memory moves Back through the cloudy paths of Time — Recalling many a joy gone by, And many a grief that will not die. It is the hour when lovers walk Along the sea-beach lone and slow, To sigh forth sacred names, and talk Of all their fears, and all their woe, To yon pale star through thin clouds beaming, And on the waters dimly gleaming. Yon lonely star — o'er all beside A mantle of black clouds is spread — What can its glimmering light betide, That shines so sweetly o'er my head ? My Guardian Spirit ! can it be A star of hope — of joy to me ? Oh, tell me, — for thy voice I hear In that low night wind's bursting sigh — Oh, tell me, can the hour be near, When from my troubled heart shall fly That bird of grief whose raven wing My brightest hopes is shadowing ? 140 mm i i.i wioi a poems. Spirit ! again I bear thee Bpeak ; Say if my waking dreams are true ; If o'er my soul again shall breab Thai Lighl of peace which once I knew. Ere hopeless love assumed it- nign, And turn'd my pleasures all to pain ? 141 TO * * * * I love to look — excuse my boldness — Into those dark, expressive eyes, Whose glance at last hath thaw'd the coldness My foolish heart had learn'd to prize. Yes, when the sun had bless'd the morning Of Life's dull day with tender light, Each new-born hope and wish adorning, And gilding every prospect bright ; When that sweet morning-sun was shrouded By cruel Fate's unjust decree, And every dream of joy was clouded That Fancy's pencil drew for me ; — I thought no other ray was cheering Than that which thus had ceased to shine ; I thought no other smiles endearing Than those whose light had once been mine. 142 MISCELLANEOUS POE1C8. Ami this I callM a holy feeling; I triumph'd in my heart's decay; Ami loved io lliink that Time was stealing The gentle tires of yontli away. But now thy dark-eyes' modest beaming Hath bid me hope, hath bid me live ; And my reviving soul is dreaming Of joys I fear thou wilt not give ! 143 TO * * * * — ►- Lady ! if wealth can buy thee — go ! The dross thou prizest is not mine ; And, if it were, I would not owe One ray of bliss to smiles like thine : To smiles whose living light might bless, With feelings too sublime for Earth, The fiery souls who deem thee less Of mortal than of Heavenly birth : Who inly bow their hearts to thee As they should bow to God alone ; Yet blend that mute idolatry With thoughts as sinless as thy own ! To smiles like these, alas ! but given — And can'st thou feel such sordid pride, All -glorious as thou art ? — where Heaven, Heart, soul, and feeling hath denied ! 144 MixKi i.wi 0U8 POEMS. When Love exists qo< likr the love Whose bliss or corse — wrhosejoy or pain, The deepest springs of life can move — ( !an rack the heart, oi fire the brain : When all it- Heaven of holy ligb>, And all its Hell of raging fires, Its sunny day — its withering night — Its burning joy — its calm desires — Can ne'er be known — can ne'er be felt, As I have felt, and still must feel ; Though, haply, I have never knelt Before thee — but as Spirits kneel — In mental worship, all unseen To every mental eye but thine ; Yet silent were not, had I been Worthy a being so divine. And, Lady, canst thou meanly sell What wealth should be too poor to buy — The joy whose spirit cannot dwell In its sublimcr ecstacy, to * * * *. 145 Except where heart to heart is given By Heaven's inscrutable behest ; Where not one tie can e'er be riven, And to be join'd is to be blest ? Oh, once I thought thy soul was warm With all the fervour angels know ! — Distinguish'd, like thy matchless form, From meaner beings here below. But thou art changed, — or thou wast not The Heavenly thing thou seem'dst to be ; And feelings ne'er to be forgot, And thoughts not all-unknown to thee ; And hopes that were not quite exprest, But yet were not completely hidden ; And raptures, more than half confest, And dreams of love that came when bidden ; Yet these, although they cannot die, Instinct with spirit to the last, In Memory's shadowy fane must lie, 'Midst emblems of the unburied past. L 146 KISOELLAHKOUfl POEMB. And though that voice, whose witching strain Would flow ;it my unspoke desire, Be mute — and though that hand refrain To wake for me thy tuneful lyre ; — And though thou hate me, mock me, spurn — Yet think not, seek not, thus to chill: The same undying fires that burn In love or hate — shall kindle still. Cut what thou wast, or art to me, It boots not, Lady, that I tell : Then farc-thee-well, — although thou 1" Beloved for ever, — yet, farewell] 117 SONNET. Oh, lovely stranger ! let my mournful lyre Salute thy coming ; for I long to feel The pleasing tremors o'er my heart-strings steal, And the fond transports which thy charms inspire. Sweet maid ! I bless thee ! may the sacred Powers, Who gave thee all thy beauties, and that glow Of health, and innocence and peace, bestow Ten thousand raptures on thy future hours ! And could thy kindling eye-beams yet dispel The black and gloomy visions that annoy My pensive bosom, long unused to joy, Where grief, and fear, and melancholy dwell ? Oh, no! — ye transient, treacherous hopes — depart! Nor mock the sorrows of a broken heart ! L 2 148 I08< I l.i AM OUfl POEMS. TO SLEEP. FROM THE LATIN. 1 " .Somne levis, qiiamqnmii certiisima M'irtis imaRO, Consortem cnpio te tamcn <-ssc tori ; Alma quit's oplata veni: nam sic sinr v i t A Vivere quam suave est ; sic sin. morte mori." Friend of the Friendless, gentle sleep, I woo thee to my weary arms ; Thou closest all the eyes that weep, Like Death divested of alarms ! Come, soother of our griefs, and give The soft repose for which we sigh ! 'Tis sweet, devoid of life, to live — And, without death, 'tis sweet to die. 1 My Father remarks of these lines in his MSS , — "a free translation." It is so. Among the writings of Dr. Wolcot (Peter Pindar) I have found the following more literal rendering of tlie same lines : — '• Come, gentle Sleep, attend thy votary's prayer, And, though Death's image, to my couch repair — 'Tis sweet, thus lifeless, yet with life to lie ; Thus, without dying, oh, how sweet to die !" — Ki> 149 TO E * * * * I cannot sing as I have sung, I cannot love as I have loved ; The flatteries of the Poet's tongue — The strains that kindness once approved — All, all are gone ! in vain I try- To twine a garland for thy brow ; In vain the light of that blue eye Shines on my dark dull spirit now. For thee the sweetest notes should flow ; For thee the brightest thoughts should shine ; For thee the warmest feelings glow ; The Muse's fairest flowers be thine. But cold and feeble is my lay," Although it breathe affection true ; The grief that wears my heart away Hath deeply touch'd my fancy too ! L 3 150 MIS( I I I \M ■>! - I'OKMS. I NEVER TOLD THE M.UJIC NAME. I never told the magic name Of her to whom my soul is given ; But still have kept the sacred flame Hid as the undying fire from Heaven ! I dare not — deign not — sigh or speak : Whatever pangs my heart may prove, 'Twould rather feel it< heart-strings break Than bend to one who scorns its love. But though it quells the bursting breast. And rules the unruly voice so well. Vet li;t\ e my glances oft eonfesl W'liat sighs and words could never fell. Stealing towards her lull dark eyes The mingled Looks of love ami fear, Nor checking quite the hopes that rise I ii gazing on a thing BO dear. I NEVER TOLD THE MAGIC NAME. 151 But joys like these, — though blest they seem, . And prized like visions from on high, — Like the fond mockery of a dream, Leave deeper sadness when they fly. And shall I then my weakness own, While proud ones mock and fools deride ? The soul that yields to love alone Shall never — never crouch to pride ! l 4 152 MI-« I I I AM.ol - POJSMS. STILL PROUDLY IHRILLS THY WITCHING VOICE. Sin. i. proudly thrills thy witching voice, The SWeetesI of the sweet ; And Mill the ivory Dotes rejoice Thy fairer hand tu greet. I knew thee when thai tongue was -weeter, ( )r sweeter -eein'd to lie : When music to thy touch came fleeter, Or so it seem'd to me. Ii wa- ere fashion's flattery Had hung upon thy song ; 'Twaa then you only wish'd fur me, Nor sought the applauding throng. "1'was then the ma!_ r ie of thy tone "With love alone was blent : Bui now to me those note.- have grown — Ala.- ! hew differenl ! STILL PROUDLY THRILLS THY WITCHING VOICE. 153 I care not that thy song sound well, Like that I once adored ; If once the heart I had rebel — I would not be its lord. Thy heart so clear — thy faith so free — These wove my spirit's net : Thy beauty's iris fades to me, When truth, its sun, is set ! I 5 I Ml-< ELLANEOUS POEMS. TO BEAU IV. The Poet's harp is strung for thee; For thee the Warrior's casque is bright; Whatever soft or fair may be Is fair and soft i'i>r thy delight. Who bids the .strains of music flow Is proud if thou art pleased the while; And wit's bright flashes only glow To catch thy look — to win thy smile ! The cheerful heart is doubly glad If thy approving glances shine; The deep, dark pleasures of the .-ad Delight iii fine soft tear (if thine. Yes, all the world is form'd for thee; And now before thy shrine I fall, And own howjusl i- Heaven's decree, That makes thee thus the Queen of all! J55 TO * * * * i Sweet maid ! though Fortune's partial sun From thee withhold its fleeting ray, Yet thou art Nature's chosen one, And she in all her best array — Her modest pride and simple grace — Adorns thy form, and decks thy face. 1 " I address these lines to a sweet girl at St. Ives who owes nothing to Fortune, but on whom Nature has bestowed not only a beautiful face, and a voice exquisitely melodious, but an elegance of form and of manner that the children of Fashion and Art often sigh for in vain. " I offer her this humble tribute in the sincerity of honest admira- tion. Let it not be imagined that one who can gaze thus fondly upon a lovely wild-flower desires to see it exposed to the rude blast of destruction, or trodden under foot by an unthinking and unfeeling world. Rather may it be plucked by some gentle hand, and cherished on some faithful bosom, that may know how to value its purity, and how to preserve its summer sweetness." This note was prefixed to the copy of the above verses in my Father's MS. It might have been applied to many of those 156 .mi-, i I LANBOl - I'.. i Kg. And she to thy fair eyes hath given Her morning splendour, calm and bright ; The tint df her unclouded Heaven, The -mile of innocent delight The silenl eloquence, whose reach Transcends the utmost power of speech. And she hath brought thee, from above, The sacred music of the skies ; Hath touch'd thy tuneful voice with love, And bade its soaring accents rise, In strains of life and words of flame, That reach the Heaven from whence they came. Oh, may she bless and keep thee still ; Regard thee with her Bweetesl .-miles ; Preserve thy heart from every ill — From passion's sway, and treachery's wiles — And lead thy unprotected youth To peace, and happiness and truth. which appear in this Collection, and which were written in the spirit "l .Moore's well-known Lines: — " Beauty lies in many c ". But love in thine, my Nora Creina ! " — En. 157 TO HEBE. Oh, Lady, thou art young and fair, And all the world is bright to thee ; And sweeter than the morning air, And calmer than the summer sea, The flowers of Hope around thee rise, In every tint of beauty drest ; And Pleasure, with her laughing eyes, Allures thee to her downy breast. And Love, perhaps — with all the train Of fancies which its dreams impart, Of troubled joy, and pleasing pain — Invades thy pure and gentle heart! But, oh, beware ! — the specious wiles Of Hope may false and treach'rous prove Beware of Pleasure's tempting smiles ; But — more than all — beware of Love! ! • Ml-' II! \M .1 I'Ol MS M EM OR] ES. An, no ! I cannol quite forget Those days of hope and joy divine, Whose beamy brightness flashes yet Upon this troubled heart of mine ! Nor is that splendid scene o'ercast Which Fancy drew with fairy skill, But, like a gold-cloud, o'er the past It shines in all its glory still ! 159 *T XV AS WE L L ! 'Twas well of thee, Dunstanville, in that hour, When the proud chief of Faction's fiery band Trod on the neck of dignity and power, And shook the mightiest spirits of the land, — Basset ! 'twas well of thee that thou didst stand Unmoved in that dread hour of fate and fear, When burst upon the awed and startled ear Of many a wise and many a valiant Peer A tempest of bold words ; — and thou didst mark The thunderstorm of that fierce elocpaence Roll on its threatening clouds, so wild and dark, That all the land beheld in dire suspense, And Lords of noblest name ignobly bent, Whilst thou didst stand serene, and reckless of tin- event ! 160 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. ON AX ALCOVE The child of many mournings — in an hour Of pensive Badness, often have Lstray'd W'iih weary steps t<> this sequester'd bower. And woo'd the spirit of its silent shade. Spirit of peace and hope ! thy placid smile May soothe the sorrower ; and that soft repose Which thou alone canst give may yet beguile The dread remembrance of unnumber'd woes. Be still my refuge ! — in thai fearful day Of storms and darkness, when my troubling heart Shall burst its Life-strings, let thy friendly ray It- cheering influence to my soul impart ! Spirit of Peace ! if such were Heaven's beh< I'd hide me in thy bosom, and be blesl ! 161 TO CUPID. Cruel son of Venus, leave me — Turn away thy dreadful dart ! — Cease, oh, cease, at last, to grieve me Pierce no more a wounded heart ! Did I ever yet deny thee O'er my soul a sovereign sway ? But there are who dare defy thee — Make them tremble and obey ! M 1G2 KISCELLA.NE0U8 POEMS. TO * * * *. ON 11K1: DEPARTURE FROM ENGLAND. Thou fairest, brightest of Columbia's maids ! Her bowers of peach trees, and her cedar groves, Her flowery valleys, and her sunny glades — Scenes of thy tenderest hopes and earliest loves — Invite thee from this dreary shore away, Where moss-grown rocks, and furze-clad hills, in vain With wild, romantic beauties court thy stay ; And where the humblest of the tuneful train As vainly wakes for thee the notes of praise, For him thou scornest, and his lowly lav-. Yes, thou must leave this happy shore, And I shall see thy face no more ; No more, alas ! shall I behold Thy matchless form of fairy mould, — to * * * *. 163 No more with timid glances trace Its lineaments of magic grace, Where Nature's power hath kindly given To mortal frame the stamp of Heaven ! Thy eyes of blue, whose living light — So soft, so tender, and so bright — Might vie with morning's golden ray, Or with the sapphire blaze of day, Far hence removed — those lovely eyes Will mock the stars of other skies, And other winds be proud to bear The ringlets of thy flowing hair. The smiles thy ruby lips adorn, Thy cheeks, as rosy as the morn, Thy snowy hands, and all thy train Of countless charms, can ne'er again Inspire my heart with pleasing pain ! Yes, thou wilt go, and bear with thee The laugh of joy, the song of glee ; The smile of hope, the throb of love, The calm of peace with thee remove : M 2 164 MISCELLANEOUS POI MS. Ami Pleasure, though her wings oflighl Arc only form'd for Heavenly flight, Attendant mi thy wandering flics, Still wafted by a thousand sighs ! Ami all that in thy presence shone, Will shine no more when thou art gone; The mazy dance, so bright and gay, Be dark and dull when thou'rt away; And scenes, that thou wast wont to bl< With all thy radiant loveliness, Will please the less for having known Thy charms — when those dear charms are flown ! Yes ; thou wilt go, and all the power That music o'er my bosom had, To please me in a cheerful hour, Or soothe me, when my heart was sad, — With thee will go, for only thou Could'sl touch the chords with heavenly thrill ; Ami who can wake their breathings now To gentle -train- with equal skill? With thee will go that bliss divine Which every child of feeling knows, When such a tuneful voice as thine In soft melodious accents flows : to * * * *. 165 For who can teach the notes of love, Or those which joy or grief inspire. Along the trembling strings to move, And blend so sweetly with the lyre ? Yes, thou must go, — and even now Old Ocean smoothes his rugged brow, And lulls his wintry storms to rest To lure thee to his azure breast. — Oh, be his placid smiles sincere, And faithful to a charge so dear : May no rude gales presume to stay Thy vessel on its watery way, But gentle breezes all unite To guide its westward course aright ; Propitious may the daybeam shine, And every star of Heaven combine To aid the sailor's skill ; And safe and happy mays't thou glide Along the bosom of the tide, And e'en where dangers most reside, Be free from every ill ! — Be such thy course, — and, if it be — In those calm moments, think of me m 3 166 mi- i i.i \m. light and gay As sportive breeze in summer-day; And all my careless soul at r;i>r. Like drifting bark on sonny seas; My hopes were once a.s fair and bright As Ocean, when the Queen of Night Illume-; its waves with silvery light : Though now mild peace, and soft repose Have yielded to a thousand woes. But should fierce northern winds arise, And lurid clouds usurp the skies, And, charged with bursting thunder, spread Their horrid wings around thy head ; Should rolling wave on wave be driven, Now upwards to the vault of Heaven, Now, sinking from their haughty swell, Yawn fearful as the gulf of Hell : Such tempesl wen- an emblem true Of what has torn my anxious breast, Since first thy potent charms 1 knew. And — yielding — was by love posSOSt ! Vei I'.u-e thee well — may every bliss Which blossoms in a world like this to * * * *. 167 Where flowers of hope, which bud so fair, Are torn by grief, or nipp'd by care, — May every mortal bliss be thine, And all the promise from above Still ceaseless on thy bosom shine, Of endless joy and endless love ! Adieu ! sweet maid, — Columbia's vales Already chide thy long delay, And Ocean and his eastern gales Impatient murmur at thy stay : Yes, fare thee well, — though when we part, No ray of Hope will cheer my heart, Whatever pangs that heart may swell, Still, lovely maiden, fare thee well ! M 4 168 MI8< I LLANEOl - P01 US. SON N ]•; T. ADDBB6SED u> rWO Vol N<, LADIES, ON JlKAltlM. hum mmj TO .Ml sic oi" THB1B own COMPOSITION. Deae Muse ! the solace of unhappy days, A stranger as thou art to cheerful song, ( )h. wake my humble lyre to notes of* praise, Where softest, sweetest notes of praise belong ! Oh Music, hail ! thou soothing, pleasing power 1 Oft do I woo thy echoes when, forlorn, 1 wander through the solitary bower At misty evening or at dewy morn. And hail, sweet maids ! who wake the vocal strings! ^ our gentle bosoms may no grief annoy, But smiling Elope, with blessings on her wings, Fan the pure flame of never-ending joy ! Accept my thanks — the strains you sing impart A glow of pleasure to a broken heart ! 169 SONNET WRITTEN AT THE LAND'S-END. How sweetly solemn from thy granite steep, Bolerinm, 'mid the calm of Earth and Heaven, To gaze upon the blue unbounded deep, What time with soften'd beam the orb of Even Stoops as to kiss it sleeping, while in air The sea-bird sails — and through the level ray Beneath, the gilded bark pursues her way O'er buried realms l — awful, yet lovely fair. Such was the scene to some glad hearts ere while Their "country's bourne" presented, when, to mock Its feebler charms, unto that beacon-rock Ianthe came : beside her living smile Dread Nature's grace seem'd gracious then no more, And soften'd hearts forgot the fame of yore. ' The great tract of land called " Lyonesse," which, according to tradition, was overwhelmed by the sea at a very early period. 70 |fIS< i I i am 01 - P0KM8. WHEN THY INKIVALI/l) STRAINS WE HEAR. When thy onrivall'd strains we hear, And when we see thy full dark eyes, And Hope's false dreams are fluttering near, Oh, think how swift each moment flies ! It is not earth, for God hath given No bliss so pure beneath the skies ; And yet, alas ! it is not Heaven, Because so swift each moment flies. Then comes it down from that bright world Where Fancy's fairy region lie.-. And Love, with radiant wings unt'mTd. Lights each glad moment as it flies. 171 ON THE PICTURE OF A MOTHER, WOUNDED AND DYING, NURSING HER CHILD. 1 FROM THE GREEK. " Take, hapless child, not long the power will be ; Take the last drop that bosom has for thee ! " 1 From the Greek, by Thomas Hingeston, M.D. My Father in- serted these Lines in the MS. collection of his own Poems, and was so fond of them that I think they may fairly be included, as he would have wished them to be, in the present volume. Many Friends were anxious that a memoir of my Father and Uncle should have been written for this work, but this it has been found desirable to postpone, at least, for the present. It may be well, notwithstanding, in this place to extract from Polwhele's "Biographical Sketches in Cornwall," his brief notice of Dr. Hingeston. " The Doctor," he writes " (a Physician at Pen- zance), was born at St. Ives in 1799, and was educated in his native tovrn, and at Queen's College, Cambridge, of which he is still a member. His medical studies commenced in the house of a general practitioner ; and, having availed himself of the opportunities of an extensive practice which that connection afforded him, he removed to Edinburgh in the year 1821. During his residence there he ob- tained the Prize for a Latin Ode, on the occasion of the late King's visit to Scotland. In 1821 he was admitted to the degree of Doctor 172 .\n-( i i i \\i .1.1 B POEMS. she bleeds and sinks, nor fails in death to prove, Efow triumphs then a Mother's living love. of Physic, after publishing an inaugural Dissertation, 'De Morbo Comitiali.' In the same year he published a new edition of that celebrated work of Harvey, ' De motu Cordis et Sanguinis.' In addition to the publications now mentioned, Doctor Uingeston has contributed to the Transactions of the Geological Society of Corn wall, a dissertation ' On the Use of Iron among the early Nations of Europe? as well as occasional Tapers to some other learned Societies." Dr. Uingeston died at Falmouth, after a short hut brilliant career, in the year 1837. — Ed. THE LAMENTATION OF DAVID OVER SAUL. ^ guieb gfclobg. " The beauty of Israel is slain upon tliy high places : how are the mighty fallen!" II. Samuel, i. 19. IN* llO THE LAMENTATION OP DAVID OVER SAUL. Oh, Israel ! the chief of thy beauty is slain, And the mighty are fallen — but fallen in vain ; The victor is vanquish'd, the valiant is low, And the warriors of Judah have turn'd from the foe ! The mountains have seen it ; but tell not the tale To the Heathen who bend in the temple of Baal : Oh ! let not the news to the Gentiles be borne, Lest the daughters of Askelon laugh us to scorn ! Accursed be the hour, and dishonour'd the day, When the shield of the brave was cast vilely away, — May no verdure flourish — no dew ever fall On the fields that are dyed with the life-blood of Saul ! How fierce was his sword in the day of its pride ! How oft hath it drunk of the battle's red tide ! How true were the arrows that Jonathan bore, And the bow that hath never turn'd empty from war ! 17'i nil LAMENTATION "l DAVID OVSB BAUL. In life they were pleasanl — the Bire Mid the son, And ii'iw thai their toils and their battles are done, Though their strength and their beauty arc low in the grave, Yet death hath not sever'd the lovely ami brave. 1 Ye daughters of Salem ! () weep tor your Lord, Who won you delights by the might of his BWOrd ; His glory is tarnish'd, his triumphs are o'er, And ye shall rejoice in his beauty no more ! The mighty are fallen ! — the Valiant arc dead! And the soldiers of Saul from the battle are fled ! Thy beauty, Israel ! is slain in the fight — The anointed of God, and the son of His might ! 1 "Saul and Jonathan were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in their death they were not divided." — 2 Samuel, i. 23. My Father finished only the first two lines of this stanza, and I could find no traces among his MSS. of any completion of it. I have, therefore, ventured to supply the missing lines myself, which I thought it was better to do than leave so short a Poem in an imperfect Mate. I deem it necessary, however, to make this l"L r y for them. — Ei>. POETICAL PETITION FOR CHRISTMAS-BOXES. WRITTEN FOE THE FALMOUTH POST-WOMAN, A " PETER-PJNDAUIC." " Dulcs est desipere in lwo."~Hos, 179 FOR THE POST-WOMAN AT CHRISTMAS. A " FETEE-PJNDARIC. Ladies and gentlemen ! your faithful drudge, Poor Jenny Post, who daily through the town, In every sort of weather 's forced to trudge, — Oftthnes in dripping cloak, and draggled gown, And shivering feet, plash-plashing in her shoes, Trotting about with letters and with news. Now at this gladsome season, when your houses Are gay with evergreens, and song, and mirth, Mince-pies, and "eggy-flip"; and gay carouses * Are ringing joyously round every hearth, Comes Jenny Post to share your jovial cheer — A merry Christmas, and a bright New Year ! Consider how you long, from day to day, To hear her welcome foot, when on the seas x2" ISO A '' P] I 1 B PINDARN ." Your friends or lovers wander Par away, Braving alike "the battle, and the breeze;" ( Sonsider how you long to hear the rattli Of Jenny lV«t\ old pattens, pittlr-pattlc ! And now, when all the storms arc hush'd and quiet, Or only at a pleasant distance grumble, And Jenny Post would gladly mend her diet — For Christmas-time, she thinks, by far too humble ; Dip in your well-fill'd pockets, not unwilling, And pull her out a sixpence or a shilling. Alas ! she is a widow, — and, alas ! Of that unhappy sort they call bewitch'd ; She knows no reason why it came to pass, But he — the Rogue to whom her fate was hitch'd — Took to his heels, when scarcely out of Church, And left poor Jenny Deason in the lurch ! Else had she been a pillar, not a Post 1 — Standing, in fair array, among the people 1 I am afraid this is a pun ! Jenny, it should be stated, was a Methodist, and this fact explains the allusion. She has been dead long ago, so this mention of her name and peculiarities can give her FOR THE POST- WOMAN AT CHRISTMAS. 181 Who, in their saintly meekness, rightly boast A pious horror of the Church and Steeple, And carefully make clean from stain and spatter The outside of the cup, and eke the platter. But now, instead of resting on the shelf Of worldly comfort and religious ease, She is obliged to struggle for herself; And, therefore, Christian neighbours, if you please To hear and heed her annual petition, 'Twill mend at least her bodily condition ! Then give her plentifully cake and wine, — If mull'd, in frosty weather 'tis the better ; And kindly bid her come again and dine, If she should chance to bring a pleasant letter ; And overwhelm her with your Christmas-boxes, From Dr. Boase's down to Mr. Fox's ! l no pain. The Methodists at that time were beginning to be dis- affected to the Church, of which, indeed, they originally formed a part, ceasing to be Wesleyans when they deserted it. — Ed. 1 At that time, and still, the " Dan " and " Beer-Sheba " of Fal- mouth, and, consequently, the full extent of the old Post-woman's "beat." — Ed. * 3 INDEX. N 4 I N 1) E X. A Farewell A "Peter-Pindaric" . A Sacred Melody Ah, Lady ! they who fondly dream Ah, no ! I cannot quite forget . Ah, she whose beauty touch'd thy heart And Fancy hath a fairy land — unknown And is the lyric Peter dead ? . And is this the white rose And knows thy gentle heart ? is Pride And must thou go, sweet Lady, say Another year, and urging still . A Poetical Petition for Christmas Boxes Page 124 177 170 68 158 35 113 88 16 55 107 101 177 Believe me, or believe me not . Believe not, Lady ! those who say Come, gentle wave Come, let us be gone ! . Cruel Son of Venus ! leave mc Dear Lady ! the light of thy glance Dear Muse ! the solace of unhappy day 128 121 42 111 161 124 168 186 INDEX. I ' it orb of night, Berene and fair Divine enchantresses, may Time Eventide .... Farewell, farewell ! my hand can !i Farewell, farewell ! since thou must go Fur the Post-woman at Christmas Fur the Post-woman at Christinas (a *' Peter-Pindaric Friend of the Friendless Friendship .... From many an eye of heavenly blue . God bless thee, gentle one ! and lead thee on Had I beheld thee in that dreamy day . Hail, gentle Spirit, let thy light How long appear the gloomy hours How sweetly solemn from thy granite steep Hush ! softly tread this lowly shade . 1 eall thee Friend, and rightly call I cannot sing as I have sung . I go, I go ! but never . 1 1 »ve to look — excuse my boldness . I never bask'd in such pure light I never told the magic name It' all my joyous hours were gone If every flower that breathes around . If I may share thy smiles and tears Inscription for an Alcove Ladies and gentlemen, yuur faithful drudge Lady, from thee I cannot part i 117 78 87 18 43 101 177 148 33 23 71 'J 5 123 122 1 69 135 38 14!) 82 111 78 150 4 86 45 135 17 'J s.l INDEX. 187 Lady, if wealth can buy thee, go Lady, the hour that gave thee birth Lady, these sunny leaves may glow La Fosse, extract from . Lines on " Peter Pindar" Lines written in a Lady's Album May all the good that God bestows May God protect thee, lovely one ! May joy be thine ! May'st thou be happy ! Memories Moore, extracts from My harp by the cold hand of sorrow is riven No dew-drop ever fell so clear Oh, come to the river . Oh, fair and flowery be thy way Oh, go not yet ! thy fair blue eyes Oh, God ! to Thee, to Thee, my heart Oh, Israel ! the chief of thy beauty is slain Oh, keep thy songs for me Oh, Lady, though my heart o'erflows Oil, Lady, thou art young and fair Oh, Lady, when the winter sea Oh, Lady, while thy prayers ascend Oh, look again ! for those dark eyes Oh, lovely one ! my heart hath known Oh, lovely one ! to thy young eyes Oh, lovely stranger ! let my mournful lyre Oh, matchless arc thy blooming checks < >h, prized and loved through many a year Page 143 79 67 7 88 71 18 9 47 70 158 6, 76 93 48 115 26 36 24 175 110 92 157 29 80 14 11 125 147 119 126 188 'M.I \\ <>h, should it be my lol to go . <>h, Btop and weep Oh, take that lovely band away 1 lh, tell me not of those who flaunt tell me not of those vain j Oh, th re was none in that bright timing < >li. th n, the magic Mistress of my songs Oh, thou, whose favour'd Bceptre Heaven defends ' > : :, nrhy reserve this page for me ' in an aleove .... On Fancy .... On the death of F. S. K. ' »;. the picture of a Mother, wounded and dying, nursing her Child .... Part of a longer Poem Polwhele, extract from . Sad emblem of my own poor heart Say, Spirit of the rocky steep . She knows it all Song written on setting out for the Land's End Song ..... Sonnet to the only bell in St. ,' vcr net ..... Sonnet addressed to two young ladies on hearing them sing to music of their own composition Sonnet written at the Land's End Still proudly thrills that witching voice t Lily, o'er thy drooping head Sweet Lady, if my heart might guess . - jet Maid, may Heaven on thee bestow • Maid, though Fortune's partial sun Pant 89 ft 1 1 r, 61 If '9 2 7 136 129 70 1G0 US 63 1G8 :* 171 21 105 6 111 122 120 147 168 It- 9 152 ' ' CO 155 INDEX. 189 Take, hapless child The child of many mournings . The gloomiest day hath gleams of light The Lamentation of David over Saul . The lofty Bard on Angels' wings The Poet's harp is strung for thee The sun hath lost his vivid glare The summer sea serenely sleeps The two themes There is but one whose smile can bless There 's such a glory on thy cheek Those full dark eyes Thou fairest, brightest of Columbia's maids Thou glorious sea Thou hast not seen the sunlight yet Thou know'st not yet what care may be Thou lone old bell ! — thy melancholy note Thou mournful Bard . Thou saw'st the world in summer pride Thou tameless thing ! — too wild — too weak Though I have praised thy sparkling eyes Thy mother's tears Thy lips have never yet been press'd Thy spring-time is bright 'Tis something that in future years To * * * *, on her departure from England To a faded wild -flower To a Lady .... To a Lady, on her Birthday To a Lady, on her saying that she did not believe me To a pretty little St. Ives' girl . To a young Friend, on his wedding-day To an infant friend on the night of his birth Page 171 160 72 173 132 154 133 138 132 20 63 85 162 3 90 104 120 97 65 58 31 99 12 53 51 162 21 95 79 128 31 26 90 190 IM'I \ To Beauty To Cupid To E • • * « To Hebe To Hope To my Friend, W B of St. Ives To my Friend, J C . To my heart .... To Sleep .... To the Evening Breeze To the Moon .... Translation of a Prize Ode 'Twas Evening, and with Evening came 'Twas well of thee, Dustauville Voices of the night What is Pride .... When thou art gone When thy unrivalled strains wc hear . Wolcot, extract from . Written on my Birthday Yes, thou may'st dream in thy young heart 154 101 149 157 123 38 23 58 148 133 117 129 87 159 138 55 49 170 148 24 33 THE END. London : Printed by Sfottiswooub it Co. New-street Square. I \l\ 1 KSI I \ ()| ( U IIOKM \ LIBRARY Los Angeles Tliis book is DUE on the last date stamped below. flEC'D LD URL SEP '] Form L0-32m-8,'57(.C66&064)444 THE LIKKAKT UN1VKKS11 Y OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES '