w 
 
 ifhi-d
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 \
 
 
 THE 
 
 SONGS OF DEARDRA, 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE IRISH, 
 
 WITH OTHER POEMS.
 
 . Gosnpli, Printer, Little Queen Street, London.
 
 TMK 
 
 SONGS OF DEARDRA, 
 
 TRANSLATED IROM THE IRISH, 
 
 WITH OTHER POEMS. 
 
 BY THOMAS STOTT. 
 
 Minuentur carmine cur.-e. — HoR. 
 
 Go, gentle offspring of the Muse, 
 
 That long, by Lagan's winding stream, 
 UflgnM her fair visions to infuse, 
 Enlivening Fancy's evening dream. 
 
 And if the world should not prove kind, 
 As through its mazy paths ye stray, 
 
 Be not disheartened— -Fortune's blind. 
 And Fame oft flatters to betray. 
 
 Go, take your chance— but if ye meet 
 From Candour a reception warm. 
 
 Your Author's wish will be complete— 
 Your friends no longer feel alarm. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTF.n FOR .1. RIDGWAY, PICCADILLY. 
 182.5.
 
 fR 
 
 
 THE FRONTISPIECE. 
 
 Several years ago, the Author had it in contem- 
 plation to publish a volume of his Poems ; and it was 
 his intention, at that time, to dedicate it to his excel- 
 lent and learned Friend, the late Dr. Percy, Lord 
 Bishop of Dromore. The lamented death of this vene- 
 rable Prelate prevented the execution of that design. 
 But being still anxious to pay a tribute of respect to 
 the memory of one for whom he entertained so high a 
 regard, the Author has lately erected a little Monu- 
 ment, (of which the prefixed Engraving exhibits a 
 correct view) in a park belonging to himself, contain- 
 
 a3 
 
 8G56<J'o 
 
 8^Q
 
 VI THE FRONTISPIECE 
 
 ing the following Inscription on a tablet placed in the 
 south side of the basement : 
 
 S. M. 
 R. R.'J' T. PERCY, D. D. 
 
 Episcopi Dromoriensis. 
 
 Musarum Amicus, 
 
 Virtutibus, Ingenio, Literis, 
 
 Cultus atque pra;clarus. 
 
 Ob. 1811.
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 Many of the Poems that compose the pre- 
 sent volume have been already submitted to public 
 inspection in the Irish and English Newspapers. They 
 were the recreations of solitary hours, snatched from 
 the hurry of business, to which the principal part of the 
 Author's Life has been constantly devoted. If leisure 
 had permitted, perhaps they might have been rendered 
 more worthy of general patronage, by careful revision 
 and correction. i\s they are, they furnish an instance 
 of innocent amusement, and a proof that literary recre- 
 ation is not altogether incompatible with the pursuits 
 of Commerce. 
 
 Dromore, Nov. 10, 1824. 
 
 a4
 
 INDEX TO THE CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 The Songs of Deardra I 
 
 To the Memory of W. Collins, Esq. the Lyric Poet 1 o 
 
 Ode to the New Year, Jan. 1, 1824 22 
 
 On the Battle of the Nile 26 
 
 of Copenhagen 28 
 
 — — of Trafalgar 30 
 
 of Auerstadt 33 
 
 of Waterloo , 35 
 
 To the Brain 3f) 
 
 , To Erin — Written on New-year'' s-day 3-1 
 
 Stanzas written after rettirning from a Visit of 
 Curiosity on board H. M. S. Tigris, in the Bay 
 
 of Bangor, Anno 1814 48
 
 X CO xN TENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Imitation of Horaces Ode, " Otiiim divos rogat in 
 
 patenti/' Sfc. addressed to a Friend 51 
 
 Life's Varied Dream 55 
 
 On the Death of Canova, the celebrated Sculptor 58 
 Invocation to the Muses on Behalf of Greece, 
 written at the Commencement of her late noble 
 
 Struggle for Independence 60 
 
 War Song, dedicated to the Patriots of Greece . . 62 
 On the signal Successes of the Greeks against the 
 
 Turks, in the Year 1824 65 
 
 A Landscape 68 
 
 Stanzas on seeing a beautiful Infant, presented to 
 
 its Mother 72 
 
 Poetic Enjoyment 74 
 
 Extemporaneous Effusion on seeing the Cottage in 
 
 which Robert Burns was born 76 
 
 To Simplicity 79 
 
 The Heath 82 
 
 The Birth of Sensibility 84
 
 CONTENTS. xi 
 
 Page 
 
 The Harvest Crocus 87 
 
 Moonlight 90 
 
 Rosstrevor 93 
 
 To an JEoliati Harp, placed in a Windoiv at Dro- 
 
 viore House, Nov. 10, 1810 95 
 
 A Dirge 97 
 
 To a Rock, ivritten on the Sea-coast 99 
 
 To a Withered Floicer 103 
 
 Winter Tokens 105 
 
 The Swallow 107 
 
 The Glen 109 
 
 The Moralizing Trout 112 
 
 Erin to a favourite Absentee 116 
 
 Distance 11^ 
 
 Reminiscence 121 
 
 Music and Beauty 124 
 
 Epitaph on the Rev. John Bcatty, late Vicar of 
 
 Garvaghy, near Dromore 125 
 
 Epitaph on a Tailor 126
 
 Xll CONTENTS. 
 
 Sketch nf u fine Day in October . 127 
 
 Epigram 129 
 
 To the Rose 130 
 
 March 132 
 
 To April 134 
 
 To May 137 
 
 To June 139 
 
 Avfjmt 143 
 
 To Autumn, on its Departure 1 44 
 
 To October 145 
 
 The Full of the Leaf 149 
 
 To November 152 
 
 Sonnet to the Lord Bishop of Dromore (the late 
 Dr. Percy), presented as a New Year's Gift, 
 
 on the \st of Jamiary, 1B05 1 55 
 
 Sonnet to Mr. Coleridge, on reading his elegant 
 
 Ode, entitled, " France'' 15? 
 
 To Sir Richard Musgrave, when on a Visit 
 
 to his Friend, Bishop Percy, at Dromore 
 
 House , 1 59
 
 CONTENTS. Xin 
 
 Sonnet to the Rev. Dr. Dm/nmond, on leading 
 
 his " Giaiii's Canseway'' 101 
 
 To the Memory of Izaac Walton 102 ' 
 
 To the Press 163 
 
 Oti hearing of Miss O'Neill's first En- 
 gagement at Covent Garden Theatre 104 
 
 On seeing a beautiful Phenomenon, in the 
 
 Shape of a luminous Arch, tvhich appeared in 
 the Atmosphere, on the Evening of the IMh of 
 
 September, 1814 166 
 
 0/1 the Death of three fine Children in the 
 
 Hooping Cough 168 
 
 To Memory 170 
 
 To 3Iorning 171 
 
 To Evening 1 72 
 
 To Spain, on reading the Accou7it of some 
 
 Events in that unfortunate Country 173 
 
 To a Chestnut, planted by the Author ... 174 
 
 The Storm 175
 
 XIV CONTENTS. 
 
 Sonnet to a Friend in Affliction 170 
 
 The Sunday School 177 
 
 To Autumn 17B 
 
 To His Grace the Duke of Wellington . . . 179 
 
 The Hour before the Battle 1 iM 
 
 The Hour after the Battle 182 
 
 The Mount of Dromore 183 
 
 To a Woodlarlt, on hearing it sing in October ... 187 
 
 The Cat and Pigeon-Pie 189 
 
 Flatterij 194 
 
 The Reticule - 190 
 
 To Ignorance 198 
 
 Chalk Farm 201 
 
 Gravity 203 
 
 Gas-light 207 
 
 The blue Surtout, or a Priest mistaken for an 
 
 Exciseman 210 
 
 The Brown- Linen Buyers 213 
 
 The Humble Petition of Dromore Pigs 215
 
 CONTENTS. XV 
 
 Page 
 
 John iWCric/icf "217 
 
 Five-and-Forttj Widous 221 
 
 A trifling Song, addressed to a young Lady 223 
 
 A Grocers List of Goods, for sale in a Couatry 
 
 Toicn 225 
 
 The Stratagem 228 
 
 On the Death of a Land Surveyor 22J) 
 
 The Land we live in 2o0
 
 THE SONGS OF DEARDRA. 
 
 The Author thinks it necessary, for the information of 
 those who are not already acquainted with it, to prefix 
 a short account of the circumstances that gave birth 
 to the following translated specimens of ancient Irish 
 Poetry. They are selected from an old manuscript, 
 entitled " The Adventures of Deardra, and the Death 
 of the Sons of Usna." For this account he acknow- 
 ledges himself to be indebted to his late worthy friend, 
 the Rev. W. Neilson, D D, Principal of the Bel- 
 fast Academical Institution.
 
 2 THE SONGS OF DEARDRA. 
 
 Historians place these events in the first century of 
 the Christian sera. Concovar was at that time mo- 
 narch of Ulla (Ulster) in the north of Ireland. At 
 the birth of Deardra it was predicted that she 
 should be the cause of great calamities. But the 
 King, unintimidated by this, took her from under the 
 care of her father, Macdoil, chief historian of Ulla, 
 and had her educated with the utmost care by persons 
 of his own choosing, intending to make her his consort 
 when she should have attained to years of maturity. 
 Unfortunately for his design, however, tlie beautiful 
 Deardra fell in love with N^SA, one of the sons of 
 UsNA, and by the assistance of his brothers, AiNLi 
 and Ardan, eloped with him to Alhin (Scotland), in 
 the western parts and isles of which NjESA had a con- 
 siderable property. Here they lived happily together 
 until a messenger arrived from Concovar inviting 
 them to return, but secretly with a view to their de- 
 struction. Deardra endeavoured to dissuade the 
 young heroes from flying to their own ruin, but their
 
 THE SONGS OF DEARDRA. 3 
 
 generous souls suspected no treachery, and they com- 
 plied with the invitation. 
 
 With great reluctance Deardra left the shores 
 of Albin, and during the voyage sung the following 
 plaintive stanzas, in which the pleasures that were 
 past (as she too truly foreboded) never to return, and 
 the charming scenes that had witnessed the bliss of 
 mutual love, are tenderly and pathetically enume- 
 rated. 
 
 Oh ! dear to my heart is yon east-lying shore. 
 And dear lovely Albin to my parting sight — 
 
 I ne'er but for N^SA, who flatter'd me o'er — 
 I ne'er had forsaken that land of delight. 
 
 Oh ! dear are the vales of Dunfin and Dunfay, 
 
 And dear the tall cliffs that conceal them from view — 
 
 Inis-Drayon, Dunsairni, are dear too as they. 
 With tears of affection I bade them adieu ! 
 
 b2
 
 4 THE SONGS OF DEARDRA. 
 
 Coilcuan ! Coilcuan ! when AiNLi the brave 
 And Ardan the valiant, to visit me went, 
 
 With NiESA, where Albin repels the wild wave 
 Of the west, then my days I delightfully spent. 
 
 Amid thy sweet bowers, O shady Glenlee ! 
 
 I slept and I feasted secure from alarm, 
 For he, whom true love had united to me. 
 
 Was present to guard me from danger or harm. 
 
 Glenmessan, Glenmessan, I love thy rich dales, 
 
 Deck'd with herbage so green, and with flowers so gay; 
 
 Where Inver's clear current is fann'd by soft, gales. 
 We us'd to repose in the heat of the day. 
 
 Gleneich, O Gleneich, thou enchanting retreat! 
 
 Whose lofty woods smile to the radiance of morn. 
 In thee did fair Fortune at first fix my seat, 
 
 In lovely Gleneich of the white-blossom'd thorn.
 
 THE SONGS OF DEARDRA. 5 
 
 Glenarchon, Glenarchon, for beauty far famed 
 Is the valley below the high ridge of Drunichon ; 
 
 My time, blithe as childhood's, with Niesa, unblamed, 
 Glenarchon, in thee once roU'd pleasantly on. 
 
 And thou, Glendarua ! thou likewise art dear. 
 And dear are the shades that embower thy breast ; 
 
 Where the sweet song of birds, hi the spring of the year, 
 Awoke me at morn — at eve luU'd me to rest. 
 
 O dear to my heart is that fair spreading shore. 
 
 And dear the bright streams through yon vallies that 
 stray — 
 
 To leave you it griev'd my fond bosom full sore. 
 But love behind N^sA forbade me to stay. 
 
 She ceased to sing — the vessel approached the 
 shore, and the fugitives returned once more to Erin. 
 
 b3
 
 6 THE SONGS OF DEARDRA. 
 
 Still the heart of Deardra foreboded treachery. 
 She advised her companions to proceed to Dundalyan 
 (Dundalk) the residence of the renowned Cuchillin, 
 and place themselves under his protection. Their ill- 
 founded confidence, however, in the honour of Con- 
 covar prevailed, and they went to Emana (Armagh) 
 his royal seat. Various were the warnings which 
 Deardra gave them of their approaching fate; some- 
 times in affectionate converse, and frequently in 
 plaintive songs : but nothing could avert the impending 
 blow, and the sons of Usna, with their fair com- 
 panion, arrived at Emana, while Concovar sat at the 
 feast with his chieftains. 
 
 They were received with every appearance of kind- 
 ness, and, under pretence of distinction, placed in the 
 castle of the Red Branch, with guards to attend them. 
 
 At length the gathering storm burst on their heads. 
 A band of foreign troops was sent to rescue Deardra
 
 THE SONGS OF DEARDRA. 7 
 
 from the Sons of Usna, and afterwards burn the 
 castle that contained them ! The native troops of 
 Ulla, though bound to obey the authority of Concovar, 
 would not, it seems, imbrue their hands in the blood 
 of the heroes. 
 
 After ineft'ectual attempts on the part of the as- 
 sailants, and prodigies of valour performed by the 
 Sons of Usna, the latter at length effected their escape 
 with Deardra ; but they were closely pursued, and 
 fell overpowered by the number of their enemies. 
 
 The distress of Deardra cannot be imagined — 
 Alone, distracted, and inconsolable, she calls to 
 mind every circumstance that endeared Na^sa to her; 
 and with a self-tormenting ingenuity, which grief is 
 so apt to create, ruminates upon those transient inter- 
 ruptions, which might have occasioned former uneasi- 
 ness, but now served to aggravate her woe. 
 
 B 4
 
 8 THE SONGS OF DEARDRA. 
 
 Under the influence of such feelings, it is probable, 
 she composed the following rhapsody, in which she 
 reflects upon her jealousy of Naesa's supposed impru- 
 dence and ingratitude to her. 
 
 YE fair shores of Albin, for ever farewell ! 
 
 Adieu ! all ye deep-winding headlands and bays ; 
 Where oft, lov'd companions ! o'er mountain and dell, 
 
 With you I partook of the charms of the chase. 
 
 Albin's chiefs in the hall of the banquet sat down. 
 And the three gallant sons of old Usna were there; 
 
 When special attention by Naesa was shown 
 
 To the Lord of Dundron's youthful daughter so fair. 
 
 Yes ! Njesa's aftection so much had she drawn, 
 (It made my fond bosom with jealousy thrill). 
 
 That he kiss'd her, forsooth ! and with a young fawn, 
 Bestow'd her my favourite hind from the hill.
 
 THE SONGS OF DEARDRA. 9 
 
 Now deep in my heart, I must frankly confess. 
 Did the canker of enmity secretly prey ; 
 
 I heard, too, returning from fair Inverness, 
 That Naesa had visited her on his way. 
 
 The torturing tidings soon turn'd my poor brain — 
 To a skiff in the frenzy of anger I flew — 
 
 Desperation my pilot, I launch'd on the main. 
 Regardless of perils that there might ensue. 
 
 But Ainli and Ardan, the faithful, the brave, 
 My dread resolution perceiv'd from the shore — 
 
 Swam after — and thus from a watery grave, 
 Restored me to reason and Neesa once more. 
 
 Then he whose imprudence had rais'd such alarms^ 
 To banish my doubts, give my bosom relief. 
 
 Thrice solemnly swore on his glittering arms, 
 
 That he ne'er would again be the cause of my grief.
 
 10 THE SONGS OF DEARDRA. 
 
 Now, too, my fair rival a rash promise made, 
 (Whilst in vain to conceal her vexation she strove) 
 
 That till Naesa should be in his silent grave laid, 
 None other should ever seduce her to love. 
 
 Ah, Lady ! what sorrow this day would be thine, 
 Didst thou know that dear Naesa is now in his tomb — 
 
 Yet sevenfold greater than thy grief is mine, — 
 By fate I was destin'd to witness his doom ! 
 
 Deardra having indulged herself in these painful 
 and pleasing recollections of her lover's wandering, 
 and his affectionate return, concludes with this 
 
 FUNERAL SONG. 
 
 Sad and long to me now seems the slow-footed day, 
 Since Usna's brave sons in the silent grave sleep — 
 
 Their converse was pleasant — ^like lions were they, 
 On the hills of Eniana so rugged and steep.
 
 THE SONGS OF DEARDRA. 11 
 
 By the damsels of Breatan the youths were carcss'd — 
 Like hawks of the mountain they pounced on the foe ; 
 
 The brave their invincible prowess confess'd — 
 The noble, respect for their virtues did show. 
 
 To yield not in conflict was always their boast — 
 Ah me! the descendants of Caiti are dead — 
 
 Ye who in Cualna's famed wars were an host, 
 Your souls to the region of spirits are fled. 
 
 Their preceptor was Aifi — he rear'd them with skill — 
 The districts around they in vassalage held : 
 
 With the strength of the torrent that bursts from the hill 
 Sgatha's youths the fierce onset of battle repell'd. 
 
 Sage Uatha watch'd o'er their early career 
 
 For valour few match'd the young heroes in fight — 
 
 Sons of Usna renown'd ! to Deardra so dear. 
 You have left her indeed in a sorrowful plight.
 
 12 THE SONGS OF DEARDRA.. 
 
 Their eye-brows were tinged with the nut's brownest 
 shade. 
 
 Under which their blue eyes sparkled lively and bright, 
 And health's rosy flush on their cheeks was display'd, 
 
 Like the ember's clear glow on the dark brow of night. 
 
 Their limbs were as soft as the swan's snowy down, 
 Yet active and light as the feet of the roe — 
 
 Fair and manly those arms that still won them renown — 
 Soft and gentle those hands that dealt death to the foe. 
 
 For Naesa I spurn'd, King of UUa, thy love — 
 On earth after him now my days will be few — 
 
 When his funeral rites are perform'd, then I'll prove 
 That nought my attachment to him can subdue. 
 
 Determin'd I am not my love to survive — 
 To alter my purpose in vain thou'It essay — 
 
 O Ainli and Ardan, if you were alive! — 
 
 But since you are gone, why bchuid should I stay?
 
 THE SONGS OF DEARDRA. 13 
 
 No charms now in life can Deardra perceive; 
 
 Too numerous already her sad days appear— 
 Delight of my soul ! at your grave let me grieve, 
 
 And bathe its green sod with affection's full tear. 
 
 Ye who dig that grave — make it wide — delve it deep — 
 I'll tell you my reason for asking such room — 
 
 On the breast of my love I am going to sleep, 
 And lay all my sorrows at rest in his tomb. 
 
 Full many a night on the spear and the shield 
 
 Did the heroes repose — 'twas their favourite bed — 
 
 Now bring the strong swords that their might used to 
 wield. 
 And lay one beneath each brave warrior's head. 
 
 Their dogs and their hawks, ah! who now will attend? 
 
 Connal Cairni's stout youths are no more on the hill — 
 The hunters' sweet music, as swift they descend. 
 
 No longer the echoing valley shall fill.
 
 14 THE SONGS OF DEARDRA. 
 
 My heart still in dismal forebodings abounds, 
 Nor can it help heaving sad sympathy's sigh, 
 
 As I look at the collars that coupled their hounds — 
 Oft I fed them — but weep now to see them draw nigh. 
 
 Though often we travers'd the wild and the waste. 
 No solitude e'er till this day have I known — 
 
 Till your grave was prepar'd, I could scarcely have 
 traced 
 In idea, the pain of surviving alone ! 
 
 O Naesa, a dimness now seizes my sight 
 
 As I look at thy grave — ^but it soon will be o'er — 
 
 Soon, soon will those eyes be extinguish'd in night, 
 And the voice of my mourners be heard then no more. 
 
 Deardra, having concluded her lamentations, 
 sprang into the grave, and expired on the breast of 
 Niesa.
 
 TO THE 
 
 MEMORl^ OF W. COLLINS, ESQ. 
 
 THE LYRIC POET. 
 
 I. 
 
 Distinguished leader of the lyric throng, 
 
 That whilora sooth'd Britannia s pensive ear 
 With the sweet sounds of sentimental song, 
 
 Wilt thou, removed now to thy native sphere. 
 Above on starry cope of cloudless light — 
 
 Wilt thou benignly bend a favouring ear 
 To the weak warblings of an earthly muse, 
 
 Into whose heart such pleasure exquisite 
 Thy tuneful rdiques frequently infuse. 
 That gratitude compels her now to pay 
 Thy memoiy, charming Bard! the tribute of a lay ?
 
 16 TO THE MEMORY OF W. COLLINS, ESQ. 
 
 II. 
 
 Each kind affection of the heart 
 
 By thee was intimately known — 
 Pity, still prompt assistance to impart, 
 
 And feel the woes of others as her own : 
 And meek-eyed Mercy, still inclined to spare, 
 
 When scowling Vengeance rais'd his angry arm 
 To strike, regardless of the victim's prayer. 
 
 Till sooth'd by her persuasive charm. 
 His rage grows cool — evaporates in air — 
 
 And drops the lifted blade that threaten'd instant 
 harm. 
 
 III. 
 The knowledge of the Passions too was thine — 
 
 Thy skilful hand could nicely trace 
 Their various features, and combine 
 Them with such sweet poetic grace. 
 That in the glowing line, 
 A strong and striking portraiture of each 
 (So high thy tuneful art could reach !)
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF W. COLLINS, ESQ. 17 
 
 The wondering senses found. 
 And still as Music touch'd th' appropriate string. 
 Obedient to the potent sound, 
 Alternately they'd fall and rise, 
 And moving in a magic ring, 
 
 Excite increas'd emotions of surprise. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The Manners, too, by Fancy dress'd, 
 
 In many a wild, cameleon vest. 
 
 Were to thy keen, observant view 
 
 Display'd, in every change of hue. 
 
 Thy nimble pencil caught their flight 
 
 With the velocity of light, 
 
 And in unfading tints of nature warm, 
 
 Fix'd and embodied each fugacious form, ^ ■>. 
 
 V. 
 
 The ALLEGORIC train, that rove 
 By Fancy's haunted stream and grove, 
 
 c
 
 18 TO THE MEMORY OF V^^ COLLINS, ESQ. 
 
 And fan her mystic flame, 
 Depicted in thy strains we find, 
 Those strains that e'en " the shadowy tribes of mind " 
 
 Could charm, arrest, and tame. 
 
 VI. 
 
 But when thy verse, " like Sparta's fife, 
 In solemn sounds awakes to life 
 
 The forms applauding Freedom loved to view," — 
 When it laments the injuries she bore 
 From vandal rage, in days of yore, 
 
 And bans the barbarous crew ; 
 What moving pathos marks the tale 
 
 Of Liberty oppress'd ! 
 But see ! once more her struggling arms prevail, 
 And Albion's sons their glorious guardian hail, 
 
 Great " Mistress of the West."
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF W. COLLINS, ESQ. 10 
 
 VII. 
 
 How sweet thy soothing, doric numbers steal 
 Upon still, pensive Evening's listening ear, 
 
 In softest cadence breath'd, 
 
 Like her own " dying gale ! " 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Simplicity thy tuneful call 
 
 Rejoicing heard, who gives to all 
 Her gentle train a grace that none beside, 
 
 Nor rank, nor power, nor art, 
 
 Nor riches can impart — 
 Sweet nymph ! to spotless Truth and Friendship near 
 allied. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Does Worth, or Genius, to the tomb descend, 
 Snatch'd from the world in an untimely hour — 
 
 Doth generous Valour to misfortune bend. 
 
 Or blooming Beauty mourn her blasted flower — 
 
 c2
 
 20 TO THE MEMORY OF W. COLLINS, ESQ. 
 
 In tendeiest tones, thy sympathizing shell 
 
 Teaches the feehng heart with kindred grief to swell. 
 
 X. 
 
 Great Lyrist! to thy gifted mind 
 
 The Muse her holiest views unveil'd. 
 Thy skill in all her mystic lore, 
 
 On every leaf impress'd we find. 
 Of that delightful fairy field, 
 
 Tliy plastic pen has left behind, 
 For Britain's future Minstrels to explore. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Though Criticism *, of aspect sour. 
 Jealous of thy superior power 
 
 To soar beyond his limited control, 
 
 * See Dr. Johnson's churlish Cntique ou the writings of 
 this excellent lyric poet.
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF W, COLLINS, ESQ. 21 
 
 May keenly search to find some flaw, 
 Some breach of the despotic law 
 
 He frames to cramp the sallies of the soul — 
 Yet long as genius, sentiment and fire. 
 
 The life and ornament of verse remain. 
 The fine effiusions of thy lofty lyre 
 
 Shall never cease to charm true Taste's distinguish'd 
 train. 
 
 c 3
 
 22 
 
 ODE TO THE NEW YEAR. 
 January 1, 1824. 
 
 Though Nature wear the garb of woe, 
 And keen the boreal breezes blow; 
 Though many a dark, disastrous cloud 
 The rising year's young aspect shroud ; 
 Yet, whilst her boding breast beats high, 
 A cheering ray from Hope's bright eye 
 Extends across the gathering glooms. 
 And Joy once more her lamp illumes. 
 Before her gayer prospects rise — 
 Unclouded suns, serener skies, 
 The mild approach of vernal hours, 
 The sweet return of herbs and flowers, 
 The sports that rural Fancy loves, 
 
 The sounds her simple train that cheer,
 
 ODE TO THE NEW YEAH. 23 
 
 The music of the warbling groves, 
 
 The murmuring of the streamlets clear ; 
 While Pleasure's banner waves along the fields, 
 And Beauty breathes a charm on all that Nature 
 yields. 
 
 Amidst her Naval bulwarks placed. 
 Triumphant o'er the watery waste, 
 Behold the lovely Queen of Isles 
 Ditfusing round heart-cheering smiles; 
 Inviting to her crowded marts, 
 Wealth, Commerce, Industry, and Arts; 
 Postering fair Science in her shade; 
 To drooping Want dispensing aid ; 
 Rewarding Merit's useful claim. 
 And fanning pure Religion's flame : 
 While Valour, seated by her side, 
 Sheathes his keen blade, in conquest dyed, 
 And plights, at her august command, 
 (The laurel blooming on his brow) 
 
 c4
 
 24 ODE TO THE NEW YEAR. 
 
 To gentle Peace ^»is willing hand, 
 
 Who, pleased, receives the veteran's vow. 
 Th' auspicious union, Fame, exulting, views, 
 And far and near proclaims th' exhilarating news. 
 
 By last of lawless sway impell'd. 
 With wild Ambition's fury swell'd, 
 Yet should the ruthless fiend of war 
 Harness again his blood-stained car, 
 And, urging on his tyger-yoke, 
 Again the Naval Queen provoke, 
 And vex the world with dire alarms ; 
 Valour once more shall seize his arms. 
 And rush reluctant from the side 
 Of his belov'd, lamenting bride, 
 The haughty foe's career to check, 
 On burning plain, or thundering deck ; 
 While Glory, always hovering nigh 
 Where Freedom's ensign is unfurl'd,
 
 ODE TO THE NEW YEAR. 
 
 25 
 
 Shall bid the red-winged vengeance fly, 
 
 Resounding o'er the watery world ; 
 Till her proud adversary, smit with fear, 
 Shall crouch beneath her crest, and drop the hostile 
 spear.
 
 26 
 
 ON THE BATTLE OF THE NILE. 
 
 Gratitude, celestial power, 
 Mirth, unbounded, crown the hour- 
 Song, thy utmost vigour try — 
 Music, rend the echoing sky — 
 Loud let joyful thunder roar i 
 
 O'er the ocean — round the shore, 
 Nelson's triumph to proclaim, 
 Gaul's disgrace, and Albion's fame ! 
 
 Neptune, raise thy hoary head — 
 Bid the waves the tidings spread : 
 Sound, ye Tritons, sound the shell 
 Let the nimble Nereids tell 
 All the Naiads that resort 
 To their monarch's crowded court,
 
 BATTLE OF THE NILE, 27 
 
 Glory with her brightest smile 
 Crowns the Hero of the Nile! 
 
 See ! as Fame her eager course 
 Wings tow'rds ISilus' mystic source, 
 Saviens hills with gladness shake — 
 Tzana dances on her lake — 
 Lote-crown'd Siris joyous sings, 
 Rousing Gojams distant springs ; 
 While Goutlo sends the glorious tale 
 Down to Litchambara's vale. 
 
 Thus, Britannia! favouring Heaven 
 
 Thee the cest of might has given, 
 
 Baffled Gaul in bounds to keep 
 O'er the regions of the deep. 
 
 May thy flag triumphant fly, 
 
 Matchless under every sky, 
 
 "And, like Nelson, heroes still 
 
 With renown thy records fill'.
 
 28 
 
 ON THE BATTLE OF COPENHAGEN. 
 
 Genius of Albion, still 'tis thine 
 
 To wield the sceptre of the main ; 
 Even though th' embattled world combine 
 
 To wrest it, the attempt proves vain. 
 Firm as an adamantine rock, 
 Thy naval prowess meets the shock. 
 And hurls, indignant, the recoiling blow, 
 Aim'd at thy envied head, on the confounded foe. 
 
 Thy valiant Tars no danger dread. 
 
 Still prompt to fly when Glory calls. 
 The canvass wing they proudly spread. 
 
 That wafts along thy wooden walls. 
 Nor castled streight, nor buoyless shoal. 
 Their dauntless ardour can controul. 
 Nor frowning batteries, whose tremendous roar 
 Shakes ev'n the rock-bound frame of the resounding 
 shore.
 
 BATTLE OF COPENHAGEN. 29 
 
 O'er the wide surface of the Globe, 
 
 Under each pole, beneath each zone, 
 To realms of every hue and robe, 
 
 Thy maritime renown is known. 
 The trembling East, the humbled West, 
 Have oft thy matchless might confess'd ; 
 And soon the stubborn North began to melt 
 To mildness, when her sons thy just resentment felt. 
 
 Yet still the soul of Pity shrinks, 
 
 When the dread stroke e'en Justice deals — 
 
 Upon the widow's woes she thinks. 
 And all the hapless orphan feels. 
 
 Amid the triumphs of the brave. 
 
 Death's sable flag is seen to wave ; 
 
 And dire Misfortune mingles her alloy, 
 
 To damp in many a heart the cause of general joy !
 
 30 
 
 ON THE BATTLE OF TRAFALGAR. 
 
 The vulture scream'd o'er Calpe's height, 
 Dire omen of the approaching fight, 
 That, ere next eve her lamp did light, 
 
 Laid many a gallant warrior low ! 
 Where Trafalgar^ proud barriers mock 
 Impetuous Neptune's billowy shock, 
 The mermaid sat upon the rock, 
 
 Chaunting her dirge of death and woe. 
 
 The mornmg sun, with blood-shot eye. 
 Mounted the hazy southern sky. 
 When the two hostile fleets drew nigh. 
 Each ranged in battle's awful form :
 
 BATTLE OF TRAFALGAR. 31 
 
 And speedily they mix, and make 
 The distant hills with thunder shake — 
 Terrified Nature seem'd to quake, 
 
 As bellowing burst the sulphury storm. 
 
 Gay in the breeze the pendants wave 
 Of haughty France, and Spain her slave ; 
 Bu-t she who boasts the free and brave, 
 
 Shall soon compel their pride to droop — 
 'Tis Nelson re-asserts her sway — 
 Ye tools of tyranny, give way ! 
 Remember Nile's disastrous day — 
 
 Again to British prowess stoop! 
 
 The fiery tempest rages yet; 
 Their ravenous fangs the sea-wolves whet, 
 And Havoc fills his blood-stain'd net. 
 At every draught, with human prey—
 
 32 BATTLE OF TRAFALGAR. 
 
 Gun muzzles gun — deck grapples deck — 
 O Heaven ! the dreadful carnage check — 
 The vanquish'd strike — each ship a wreck- 
 Huzza ! — Britannia gains the day ! 
 
 Ah! fatal day of Trafalgar — 
 In it we lost our matchless tar — 
 Great Nelson, thunderbolt of war — 
 
 In Victory's arms, alas ! he dies. 
 Britons! be to his memory just, 
 Let martial song, and sculptur'd bust, 
 And trophied column, round his dust. 
 
 In monumental grandeur rise.
 
 33 
 
 THE BATTLE OF AUERSTADT. 
 
 The war-tiend yell'd with horrid note, 
 
 By Said's shrinking stream ; 
 And spectres grim were seen to float 
 
 Beneath the pale moon's beam. 
 
 On Jena's height, in darkening curls, 
 The death-tire's smoke ascends ; 
 
 Havoc the vengeful thunder hurls, 
 Tumult the welkin rends. 
 
 Down Elba's neighbouring banks the din 
 
 Tremendous echoes bore, 
 The distant towers of fair Berlin 
 
 Shook to the dire uproar. 
 
 D
 
 34 BATTLE OF AUERSTADT. 
 
 The Prussian Eagle bold defies 
 The Vulture of proud France ; 
 
 And deep in blood each champion dyes 
 His crest, as they advance. 
 
 Shade of Great Frederick ! now look down 
 
 Thy kinsman's soul inflame ; 
 T' assert his rights, preserve his crown, 
 
 And save the Prussian name. 
 
 The furious conflict rages yet. 
 
 The crimson torrents flow ; 
 For Death ne'er stops his scythe to whet, 
 
 Where such rank harvests grow. 
 
 Suspense aloof the battle views. 
 
 And Hope attends her still ; 
 While Fame impatient waits for news. 
 
 Her echoing trump to fill.
 
 BATTLE OF AUERSTADT. 35 
 
 Alas, for Freedom, for mankind, 
 
 Disastrous is the tale; 
 Guided by councils tardy, blind, 
 
 Prussia's last efforts fail ! 
 
 d2
 
 m 
 
 WATERLOO. 
 
 In peaceful dreams, releas'd from war, 
 Europe indulged, and thought them true ; 
 
 For broken seem'd the blood-stain'd car. 
 That Terror drove and Havoc drew. 
 
 But, ah ! deceitful were those dreams 
 That mock'd her unsuspecting view — 
 
 The foe of peace return'd — and streams 
 Of human blood must flow anew ! 
 
 To perjured France he bent his way, 
 A gain his claims her traitors own — 
 
 Again their lawful King betray. 
 And place the rebel on his throne.
 
 WATERLOO. 37 
 
 Astouish'd Europe heard the tale — 
 
 Her martial trump indignant blew — 
 And straight, o'er distant hill and dale. 
 
 To arms her valiant veterans flew. 
 
 Unconquer'd Britain led the van, 
 
 With gallant Prussia by her side ; 
 And Wellington was Britain's man. 
 
 And Blucher Prussia's trusty guide. 
 
 Austria and Russia too drew near. 
 
 But ere their Eagles rose in view. 
 The British lance and Prussian spear 
 
 Finish'd the work at Waterloo. 
 
 O dire and desperate was the fray. 
 And loud the din, and dread the force 
 
 Of mingling hosts, in dense array — 
 Of clashing swords and charging horse !
 
 38 WATERLOO. 
 
 But matchless was the glory gain'd, 
 Though Valour sore the loss might rue, 
 
 That he that dreadful day sustain'd. 
 Reconquering peace at Waterloo,
 
 39 
 
 TO THE BRAIN. 
 
 Mysterious source and seat of Sense, 
 Whence all our whimsies spring, 
 
 May I presume, without offence, 
 Thy energies to sing ? 
 
 The poet's celebrated fount, 
 
 Whate'er its virtues be, 
 That tlow'd from old Parnassus' mount, 
 
 Was but a type of thee. 
 
 Thou art the true Pierian well 
 Of which great Homer drank. 
 
 And all the bards that since excel 
 In Epic's lofty rank. 
 
 l>4
 
 '*^ TO THE BRAIN. 
 
 Thy inspiration Maro crown'd 
 
 With never-dying fame : 
 Hence classic Horace lives renowned — 
 
 Hence Milton's mighty name. 
 
 Our Shakespear hence unrivall'd shines 
 
 In the dramatic sphere ; 
 Hence sweetly bloom the vigorous lines 
 
 That paint the circling year. 
 
 Hence Pope and Spenser charm by turns; 
 
 Hence Goldsmith's polish'd lays — 
 And hence, wild-warbling Scottish Burns, 
 
 Thy prejudice and praise. 
 
 To thee too, sentimental source, 
 
 Each lofty son of prose 
 His tale's eli'ect, his moral's force, 
 
 His grace and grandeur owes.
 
 TO THE BRAIK. 41 
 
 Plutarch and Tacitus of yore 
 
 From thee doriveil then- skill — 
 Scott, Addison, Hume, Usher, More, 
 
 Display thy influence still. 
 
 Nor less indebted to thy aid 
 
 Is Eloquence confess'd : 
 From thee she learns to rouse, persuade. 
 
 And rule the human breast. 
 
 Thou gav'st the famed Athenian's tongue 
 
 To lead the Grecian throng — 
 From thee the pow'rful periods sprung 
 
 That Cicero roll'd along. 
 
 From thee too British Fox and Pitt 
 
 Drew all their reasoning might. 
 While listening Senates, charm'd, would sit 
 
 The livelong winter night.
 
 42 TO THE BRAIN. 
 
 Philosophy, lod by ihy light, 
 Her deep researches makes : 
 
 Astronomy her boklest flight 
 Beneath thy guidance takes. 
 
 Great Newton thus, on eagle wing, 
 Through boundless systems soar'd — 
 
 Hence learned Locke each hidden spring 
 And maze of mind explored. 
 
 When Painting feasts the curious eye 
 
 Her magic scenes among — 
 When Music wakes the symphony 
 
 Of soul-entrancing song : 
 
 Thy nervous sympathy alone 
 
 The varied relish gives, 
 And Titian's tint, and Handel's lone, 
 
 From thee its charm receives.
 
 TO THE BRAIN. 43 
 
 But ah! if Melancholy's cloud 
 
 Obscure the mental sun, 
 And round thee a distempered crowd 
 
 Of dark ideas run ; 
 
 Then genius, fancy, judgment, sink 
 
 In the tremendous gloom. 
 And Madness rends each social link, 
 
 RegardJess of her doom !
 
 44 
 
 TO ERIN. 
 
 WRITTEN ON NEW-YEAR's-DAY. 
 
 Time's finger turns another page 
 
 Of his vast volume to our view— 
 
 Th' important history of the age 
 To-day his pen resumes anew. 
 
 O may that page rom hlots be clear, 
 Which with events as yet unknown 
 
 Shall soon be filled — and this new year 
 
 Prove happier than those lately flown ! 
 
 Though distant woes the feeling breast 
 Of Christian pity may deplore; 
 
 And sympathy for the distrest, 
 
 Extend to many a distant shore;
 
 TO ERIN. 45 
 
 Yet when her eye hath ceased to roam, 
 
 Commiserating foreign ills, 
 And her attention's turn'd to home — 
 
 To kindred vales and native hills ; 
 
 What deep regret her heart must feel. 
 
 To see Dissention's baleful wing. 
 While fruitful seasons plenty deal, 
 
 Around her noxious mildews fling ! 
 
 Party on Erin's vitals preys, 
 
 And blasts her peace, her bliss beguiles : 
 In vain her gracious King essays 
 
 To soothe the demon by his smiles! 
 
 Vindictive still the fiend remains. 
 
 E'en when apparently subdued ; 
 Still, still his hellish spite retains, 
 
 Resuming still his savage mood.
 
 46 TO ERIN. 
 
 In vain returning seasons bring 
 
 Luxuriant crops to crown her fields ; 
 
 In vain the balmy boon of Spring — 
 
 The golden gifts that Autumn yields ! 
 
 Prosperity augments her pride — 
 Adversity her temper sours - 
 
 Ev'n Charity, that 's said to hide 
 
 Most sins, in vain exerts her powers. 
 
 Ungrateful land ! hath bounteous Heaven 
 Its blessings thus bestow'd on thee, 
 
 All to no purpose, hath it given 
 
 Abundance — peace — and liberty ? 
 
 Look at ill-fated nations, torn 
 
 By Discord's unrelenting reign ; 
 
 By Tyranny oppress'd and shorn — 
 
 Look at distracted Greece and Spain!
 
 TO ERIN. 47 
 
 Take warning! — 'tis not yet too late — 
 Deep be the solemn truth impress'd- 
 
 Sectarian spite, and factious hate, 
 Are of all plagues the direst pest.
 
 48 
 
 STANZAS 
 
 Written after returning from a Visit of Curiosity on 
 board H. M. S. Tigris, in the Baij of Bangor, 
 Anno 1814. 
 
 Light was the breeze our skiff" that bore 
 Along the bosom of the bay, 
 
 That winds around fair Bangor's shore, 
 To where the beauteous Tigris lay. 
 
 Majestic on the surge she rode — 
 
 Her anchor fast — her canvass furl'd — 
 
 While from her lofty raizen tlow'd 
 The Hag that rules the watery world.
 
 STANZAS ON A VISIT TO THE TIGRIS. 49 
 
 And down her deck, in awful form. 
 
 Freedom ! thy sleeping thunder lay, 
 That, rous'd, can raise the vengeful storm, 
 
 And strike a despot with dismay. 
 
 But Peace presided at her helm, 
 
 While Friendship hail'd, with hearty cheer, 
 The visitants of Neptune's realm. 
 
 And kindly said — " You're welcome here." 
 
 And true Politeness, frank and free. 
 
 To us such mark'd attention show'd, 
 Explaining all we came to see, 
 
 Our hearts with gratitude o'erflow'd. 
 
 Well pleased we parted — thanks return'd— 
 
 Then in our little barque once more 
 With eager prow the rude waves spurn'd, 
 
 And safe again reach'd Bangor's shore. 
 
 E
 
 50 STANZAS ON A VISIT TO THE TIGRIS. 
 
 Nor can the grateful Muse forbear. 
 Now to her native shades restored, 
 
 To ofter thus an hasty prayer 
 
 For all the Tigris bears on board : 
 
 Wherever Chance her course impels, 
 Still may Success on her attend — 
 
 And as in beauty she excels, 
 So in renown may she transcend !
 
 bl 
 
 IMITATION OF HORACE'S ODE, 
 
 " Otium divos rogat in patcnti," &c. 
 ADDRESSED TO A FRIEND. 
 
 The seaman on the laging main, 
 By tempest tost, with toil opprest. 
 
 Sighs through the gloomy night, in vain, 
 To lay his weary limbs at rest. 
 
 When fierce Bellona rules the plain, 
 And deals around uniuimber'd woes, 
 
 The exhausted warrior longs to gain 
 The balmy blessing of repose. 
 
 e2
 
 52 IMITATION OF HORACE. 
 
 Sweet nyraph ! thy smile no wealth can win. 
 Nor fraud, nor force thy gifts secure; 
 
 From scenes of pomp to fly thou'rt seen. 
 And shun the great man's guarded door : 
 
 While to the peasant's cottage oft, 
 To cheer his toil and soothe his pain, 
 
 With mien so mild, and step so soft. 
 Thou deign'st to lead thy halcyon train. 
 
 The restless, still inclined to roam, 
 Mock'd by the rainbow of the mind, 
 
 Fancy some distant place thy home. 
 But seek in vain that spot to find. 
 
 Short is the fleeting course of life 
 Along this dusky vale of tears; 
 
 Then wherefore stretch our cares and strife 
 Beyond our destin'd length of years?
 
 IMITATION OF HORACE. 63 
 
 Let man enjoy what's in his power: 
 
 Dark clouds the future still o'ercast : 
 Perhaps the present passing hour 
 
 The Fates have number'd for our last. 
 
 If Fortune on my neighbour smile, 
 
 But yet refuse to favour me, 
 Why should it rouse my angry bile — 
 
 Why discontented should I be? 
 
 Perhaps the veiy gift I grudge, 
 
 Bestow'd on me, might prove my bane — 
 
 So bhndly are we apt to judge, 
 
 And covet, when we should refrain. 
 
 Lamented Wolfe, in manhood's prime. 
 By sudden death was snatch'd away — 
 
 Great Marlbro' fell, in lengthened time, 
 Disease's slow, but certain prey. 
 
 e3
 
 54 IMITATION or HORACE. 
 
 Deem not, ray friend, thy fate unkind, 
 That gave a parsonage and farm ; 
 
 Besides a cultivated mind, 
 
 And muse, thy vacant hours to charm. 
 
 Nor should I at my lot repine. 
 Though cast among the bustling train, 
 
 If now and then the tuneful nine 
 To smile upon my leisure deign.
 
 oo 
 
 LIFE'S VARIED DREAM. 
 
 When youth, on Dissipation's tide, 
 
 In Folly's light skiff steers, 
 'Tis apt Experience to deride, 
 
 And laugh at Caution's fears : 
 The hidden rock, the sleeping blast. 
 
 But silly bugbears seem, 
 Till Ruin, bursting round at last. 
 
 End Life's delusive dream. 
 
 Ambition long may persevere. 
 
 With unremitting toil. 
 To bring his wicked plans to bear — 
 
 To ravage, rob, and spoil ; 
 
 E 1
 
 56 life's varied dream. 
 
 And though, by waste of wealth and strength. 
 Success should crown his scheme, 
 
 Yet Fate's dread stroke will fall at length, 
 And blast his guilty dream. 
 
 The Miser, anxious, and still bent 
 
 On adding to his store. 
 With each addition discontent, 
 
 And grasping still at more — 
 Doom'd 'midst his hoarded heaps to pine. 
 
 And held in no esteem, 
 Finds, as his health and strength decline. 
 
 That life's a feverish dream. 
 
 The son of Genius, though with bright. 
 
 With useful talents blest, 
 'Gainst want, neglect, and envious spite. 
 
 Has often to contest : 
 Yet still the smile of Fame he wooes, 
 
 Still cliants his favourite theme;
 
 life's varied dream. 57 
 
 But the lost labour of his Muse 
 Proves false his flattering dream. 
 
 How few, on this side of the grave. 
 
 Can boast substantial bliss ! 
 The great, the gay, the learn'd, the brave. 
 
 That jewel often miss : 
 They, only they, whom Virtue guides, 
 
 And Truth's unclouded beam, 
 Obtain the prize — while all besides 
 
 Pursue an empty dream.
 
 o« 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF C A NOVA, 
 
 THE CELEBRATED SCULPTOR. 
 
 Genius of Sculpture, weep! 
 Let Sorrow's gloomy garb envelope thee, 
 And tears, like those of hapless Niobe, 
 
 In sad suflusion steep 
 Thy anguish'd eye — for he, alas ! is gone, 
 Whom it with rapture lately gazed upon ! 
 He, who, with unrivall'd skill. 
 
 His hand o'er the cold marble moving 
 (And in its magic progress still, 
 
 More than mortal knowledge proving 
 By the great master mind possess'd, 
 Inhabiting that glowing breast), 
 Until beneath his plastic touch grew warm 
 The wondering block, and rose a finish'd human form.
 
 ON THE DEATH OF CANOVA. 59 
 
 Alas ! Canova is no more, 
 
 That miracle of modern days! 
 Whose matchless art could so sublimely soar, 
 
 Whose moral worth had gaiu'd distinguish'd praise. 
 Not Phidias, nor Praxiteles, 
 Justly the boast and pride of Greece, 
 When brightly on her classic shore 
 The sun of Science beam'd in days of yore, 
 A loftier niche perhaps may claim, 
 In the vast temple of terrestrial Fame, 
 Than judging Time shall now assign to thee. 
 Illustrious oft'spring of fair Italy !
 
 GO 
 
 INVOCATION TO THE MUSES 
 ON BEHALF OF GREECE, 
 Written at the Commencement of her late noble Strugyle 
 for Independence. 
 
 Ye sacred Nine whose brightest flame 
 Erst warm'd the heart of Grecian Fame, 
 And all her noblest bards inspired, 
 And all her bravest warriors fired 
 To deeds of boldest enterprise. 
 Against her ancient enemies — 
 O if ye linger still upon 
 That favourite height, where Helicon 
 In tuneful cadence used to flow. 
 Cheering the classic shades below, 
 Ah ! now, in Greece's trying hour, 
 Once more exert your wonted power—
 
 INVOCATION ON BEHALF OF GREECE. CI 
 
 Kouse again her slumbering spirit! 
 Brace her palsied arm for fight! 
 Stimulate her martial merit, 
 
 By examples brave and bright ! 
 Such as, in her better day, 
 Fill'd the Persian with dismay — 
 Such as deathless glory won 
 
 On the field of Marathon, 
 
 And at famed Thermopylce 
 
 Crown'd the cause of Liberty.
 
 62 
 
 WAR-SONG, 
 
 DEDICATED TO THE PATRIOTS OF GREECE. 
 
 Greece, whose bosom still contains 
 Ancient Freedom's bright remains. 
 Classic mountains, streams and plains, 
 
 Long renown'd in history ; 
 Mindful of her former fame, 
 Mindful of each noble name, 
 Viewing now her chains with shame — 
 
 Greece determines to be free. 
 
 Retribution's day is come. 
 That shall strike Oppression dumb — 
 Echoing trump and sounding drum 
 Call to death or victory !
 
 WAR SONG. 6iJ 
 
 Sparta wakes her martial fife — 
 LacedoEmon starts to life — 
 Athens to the glorious strife 
 
 Fires the Sons of Liberty ! 
 
 Rouse the spirits of the brave ! 
 High the Christian banner wave ! 
 Long, too long the Crescent's slave, 
 
 Fortune doom'd fair Greece to be '. 
 " Now's the (lay, and now 's the hour," 
 To pull down proud Islarn's power — 
 Vengeance hurls the flaming shower 
 
 On the hordes of Slavery '. 
 
 Persia, once the mortal foe. 
 But the friend of Grecia now. 
 Strikes a simultaneous blow. 
 
 That distracts the enemy.
 
 64 WAR SONG. 
 
 Visions of departed days. 
 Rush on Contemplation's gaze — 
 Grecian Glory's rising- rays 
 
 Light the march of Liberty ! 
 
 Lives there hero, patriot, sage, 
 Who, in this enlighten'd age, 
 Would not heart and hand engage. 
 
 From oppression thee to free ? 
 Lives there Bard, whose lofty lyre 
 Lights the sparks of Freedom's fire. 
 But now burns with strong desire. 
 
 Thy redemption, Greece ! to see.
 
 or. 
 
 ON THE 
 
 SIGNAL SUCCESSES OF THE GREEKS 
 AGAINST THE TURKS, 
 
 IN THE YEAR 1824. 
 
 Banish doubt, despondence, sadness — 
 Raise the song of joy and gladness — 
 Greece (so fav'ring Heaven ordains) 
 Spurns the tyrant's new forged chains ! 
 Sons of Liberty, rejoice ! 
 Loud let your applauding voice 
 To th' admiring world proclaim, 
 Greece's triumph — Greece's fame ! 
 
 Land of heroes, long opprest 
 
 Under Slavery's cruel sway. 
 Thy benighted shore is blest 
 
 Now with Freedom's brilliant ray, 
 
 F
 
 66 ON THE SUCCESSES OF THE GREEKS. 
 
 Heaven its powerful aid extends — 
 Heaven thy righteous cause befriends — 
 'T is decreed by Destiny, 
 Thine the victoiy shall be. 
 
 O'er the famed ^gean flood, 
 Stain'd with the despoiler's blood, 
 Where the proud barbarian's slaves 
 Fate consign'd to watery graves, 
 Glory, reckless of her loss, 
 Bright displays the conquering Cross, 
 Whilst the Crescent flies and fades 
 Under Terror's gloomy shades ! 
 
 Scio and Ipsara yet 
 Shall their recent woes forget, 
 As her red path o'er the surge 
 They behold stern Vengeance urge. 
 And beneath her flaming sweep 
 Whelm the murderers in the deep.
 
 ON THE SUCCESSES OF THE GREEKS. C7 
 
 Whilst the gorg'd waves heave around, 
 With the wrecks of havoc crown'd. 
 
 Oh, Tyrtaus! for thy lyre, 
 Grecian valour to inspire; 
 Or, lamented Byron, thine. 
 All her heroes to combine 
 In one noble phalanx, strong 
 As the current of thy song! 
 Never should the war-note cease, 
 Till the classic land in peace 
 Safely shall again repose. 
 Rescued from her barbarous foes. 
 
 F 2
 
 68 
 
 A LANDSCAPE. 
 
 The season smiles, in all the splendour drest 
 Of blooming Summer's beautiful attire; 
 
 Soft breathe the balmy breezes of the west, 
 And sweetly pipe around the sylvan quire. 
 
 Descriptive Muse, while Fancy's on the wing. 
 Like yonder lark that in the welkin towers, 
 
 Teach me the prospects T survey to sing, 
 
 Reclined in one of Percy's favourite bowers. 
 
 As eastward Observation turns her view, 
 
 Mournes lofty barrier seems to prop the sky ; 
 
 But Donard chief, with brow of dusky hue. 
 Above his rocky neighbours mounts on high.
 
 A LANDSCAPE. 69t 
 
 So looks some monarch, when his subjects' crimes 
 With anguish his paternal bosom wring 
 
 So looks the Poet, when neglected rhymes 
 Nor praise, nor profit, from his Patron bring- . 
 
 Stieve Cruib, the parent of our bleacher stream, 
 With humbler aspect next invites the eye; 
 
 Morn gilds his double crest with her first beam, 
 And on his bosom eve's last blushes die. 
 
 How fair the peopled district round Dromore! 
 
 Here wealth and comfort Industry supplies ; 
 While vales extend, enrich'd with flaxen store, 
 
 And hills adorn'd by cultivation rise; 
 
 Oh, ne'er may Anarchy's sirocco-blast 
 The bloom of social order here destroy — 
 
 Nor in those fields her serpent seed be cast. 
 
 To mar the growth of friendship, peace, and joy ! 
 
 r3
 
 70 A LANDSCAPE. 
 
 That Mount, which still attracts the stranger's gaze. 
 Perhaps was once a fortress of renown, 
 
 Form'd by some Danish chief in distant days. 
 To guard, or overawe, th' adjacent town. 
 
 The din of battle round its base has rung; 
 
 Beneath its foss the dust of heroes sleeps ; 
 From its green scarp the arrowy tempest sung, 
 
 That strew'd the neighbouring vale with slaughter'd 
 heaps. 
 
 And oft the midnight rambler's startled ear. 
 As past its mouldering battlements he hies. 
 
 The spectre-conflict hears, or seems to hear, 
 With dying groans and agonizing cries. 
 
 Now westward as the prospect we pursue, 
 
 Where Lagan winds through yonder verdant glade, 
 
 Gill Hall's fair mansion meets the gladden'd view, 
 'Midst a dense awning of surrounding shade.
 
 A LANDSCAPE. 71 
 
 Here Hospitality, in days of yore, 
 
 Dispens'd his bounty, kept his table spread ; 
 
 And while the rich regaled, the pitied poor 
 Were by the princely owner clothed and fed. 
 
 With quick transition, hence the eye descends 
 To yonder lake, that five fair shires surround ; 
 
 Marks where curtail'd Tyrone's domain extends, 
 And distant Derry's horizontal bound. 
 
 Here vapours wafted from the Atlantic main, 
 Whose crimson skirts reflect declining day. 
 
 Description's fond excursive flights restrain, 
 Closing at ouce the landscape and the lay. 
 
 F 4
 
 72 
 
 STANZAS 
 
 ON SEEING A BEAUTIFUL INFANT, PRESENTED TO 
 ITS MOTHER*. 
 
 Sweet little babe, thy mother's darling care. 
 As o'er tbj' cherub form the Poet bends. 
 
 Warm from his bosom the spontaneous prayer 
 Of Sensibility for thee ascends. 
 
 Ne'er may those ruby lips unclose to sigh. 
 
 That dimpled cheek Disease's blight turn pale, 
 
 Nor Sorrow's tear bedim that diamond eye. 
 That ivory forehead feel Misfortune's gale. 
 
 * The Hon. Mrs. P. Meade.
 
 STANZAS ON A BEAUTIFUL INFANT. 73 
 
 As rising years thy faculties unfold. 
 
 Like blossoms opening to the vernal ray, 
 
 May thy fond parents with fresh joy behold 
 
 Thy health, thy charms, improve from day to day. 
 
 And when by Education's fostering aid. 
 Thy virgin graces gain perfection's bloom, 
 
 May worth distinguish'd win the accomplish'd Maid, 
 And happiness attend her to the tomb !
 
 74 
 
 POETIC ENJOYMENT. 
 
 When the musical lark mounts aloft to the skies, 
 And the dew's liquid pearls deck the thorn, 
 
 Erom the pillow of sleep undistemper'd I rise, 
 To drink health from the cool breeze of morn. 
 
 But when Phoebus ascends from his chariot of fire 
 To dispense the bright fervours of noon. 
 
 With the Muse to some grotto or shade I retire. 
 And my harp to her dictates attune. 
 
 The sorrows and joys of the world's passing throng, 
 Just as Eancy presents them to view, 
 
 Eorm the gay or the grave subject still of my song. 
 And Reflection suggests not a few.
 
 POETIC ENJOYMENT. 75 
 
 Then as Night's sober herald, in garment of grey, 
 
 Proclaims her approach in the west. 
 Like the linnet conceal'd on the thorn's leafy spray, 
 
 I retire from amusement to rest.
 
 76 
 
 EXTEMPORANEOUS EFFUSION, 
 
 ON SEEING THE COTTAGE IN WHICH 
 
 ROBERT BURNS WAS BORN. 
 
 A BRIEF advertisement attracts the eye, 
 
 Where Ayrshire s Bard the breath of life first drew : 
 
 And like a spell, it caught me passing by— 
 1 paus'd to pay his memory homage due. 
 
 Dear to remembrance still shall be the spot, 
 Where that rare flower arose to cheer the sight ; 
 
 And sacred every shade around the cot, * 
 
 Where the young Minstrel first beheld the light. 
 
 * In this Cottage, at AUoway, there is a likeness of Burns, 
 painted on a pannel, in the parlour.
 
 ON SEEING THE COTTAGE OF BURNS. 77 
 
 With mix'd emotions of regret and awe, 
 
 I pass'd the threshold where the wonder dwelt; 
 
 And while his painted semblance there I saw, 
 His living influence deep my bosom felt. 
 
 A magic circle seem'd to hem me round — 
 Mysterious forms before my senses float — 
 
 Methought I heard his tuneful pipe resound. 
 Blithe as the woodland warbler's vernal note. 
 
 Coila advanc'd, in mantle green array'd. 
 Attended by her Nymphs and Naiads, there ; 
 
 Lnggars weird sisters — Cassilis' cavalcade — 
 The twa sage Dogs, and brigs of ancient Ayr. 
 
 Kirk Alloways witches, (Tarn 0' Shanfers dread) 
 In wild procession pass'd on nimble shanks : 
 
 And, as Illusion's powerful influence spread, 
 
 Death— Hornbook — and aiild Nick, renew their 
 pranks.
 
 78 ON SEEING THE COTTAGE OF BURNS. 
 
 Bright gem of Genius ! soul of fun and fire ! 
 
 Thus still thy lively Fancy's pictures charm ; 
 Thus still the sweet effusions of thy lyre, 
 
 With feelings of delight the bosom warm.
 
 79 
 
 TO SIMPLICITY. 
 
 Sweet nymph, that like the gentle lamb, 
 Frisking around its fleecy dam, 
 Delight'st to range the dewy lawn. 
 With tresses loose, and veil undrawn, 
 What time the virgin breath of morn 
 Drinks fragrance from the blooming thorn. 
 Or when at eve, perch'd near her nest, 
 The blackbird sings his bride to rest. 
 
 But seldom in the crowded scene, 
 Where Fashion's formal group convene; 
 Where Pride her peacock plumage rears, 
 While strutting Affectation stares. 
 Do we thy smiling aspect meet, 
 O nymph engaging and discreet !
 
 80 TO SIMPLICITY. 
 
 Restraint and tbese but ill agree, 
 Daughter of Love and Liberty ! 
 Yet, mixing with the train of Art, 
 A secret charm thou dost impart, 
 That gains, in spite of all controul, 
 The silent suffrage of the soul ; 
 And lends a sweet attractive grace 
 To every form and every face. 
 
 To thee young Genius turns his eye, 
 Delighted as thou passest by : 
 And oft, though rudely, he essays 
 To paint thy beauty, chant thy praise ; 
 He meets thee in the lonely glen. 
 Remote from noisy haunts of men, 
 Beneath some rock, that leans to hear 
 The streamlet's music murmuring near ; 
 He finds thee in some forest's shade. 
 Where Time fantastic bowers hath made.
 
 TO SIMPLICITY. 81 
 
 He hears thee in the whispering gale, 
 Or where lorn Echo tells her tale ; 
 Or, haply, wandering on the shore. 
 Collecting thence the shelly store. 
 Then, as he lifts his straining eye 
 To where the mountain meets the sky, 
 He sees thee take thy airy flight, 
 And flit along the fields of light. 
 
 Distinguish'd fair, thy ancient fame 
 Remains unchangeably the same ; 
 In every age, in everj' clime, 
 Throughout the circling course of time,, 
 Thou still hast been, and still shalt be 
 Admired and loved, Simplicity !
 
 82 
 
 THE HEATH. 
 
 The garden may boast of its lilies and roses. 
 Its pinks and carnations, a beautiful stock — 
 
 T sing of a bloomer, that boldly exposes 
 
 Her charms on the brow of the mountain and rock. 
 
 The cold blast of winter, the warm breath of summer. 
 My favourite, uninjured, can equally bear; 
 
 While the pamper'd exotic — a gaudy new comer — 
 Decays, in despite of the florist's best care. 
 
 To the poor little daisy, when cruel storms pelt her, 
 (As if pity inclined her to shield the fair flower) 
 
 She kindly expands her green bosom for shelter — 
 The lark, too, for lodging resorts to her bower.
 
 THE HEATH. 83 
 
 Though lonely her lot to the eye of the stranger, 
 The hare's her companion, the grouse is her guest; 
 
 And the sheep's gentle brood, in the season of danger, 
 Repose in security under her breast. 
 
 As round her wild mansion the fowler so merry, 
 Roves with his fell tube hapless game to destroy, 
 
 The beautiful tints of her blossom and berry 
 He pauses to look at with feelings of joy. 
 
 To visit this lovely recluse of the mountain, 
 The bee of the vale is instinctively drawn ; 
 
 For it finds none so sweet by the side of the fountain. 
 Or on the gay border that fringes the lawn. 
 
 Of this pretty native, in bloom through all weather, 
 Caledonia and Erin may justly be proud ; 
 
 And long may their bards sing the praises together 
 Of Heath, the fair child of the clift and the cloud ! 
 
 g2
 
 84 
 
 THE BIRTH OF SENSIBILITY. 
 
 When Pity from her native sphere 
 Descended first to visit earth, 
 
 Benevolence was her compeer, 
 
 And from their union sprang a birth 
 
 Of tender heart and gentle eye, 
 
 By men call'd — Sensibility. 
 
 Among a rude, uncultured race, 
 
 To passion prone, but void of feeling, 
 
 She wander'd long from place to place, 
 Kind lessons of instruction dealing ; 
 
 And though she met vrith opposition. 
 
 Her precepts mended man's condition.
 
 THE BIRTH OF SENSIBILITY. 85 
 
 Persuasion dwelt upon her tongue. 
 
 That silenced wrath when it was rising ; 
 
 Her counsel like a charm she flung 
 On guilt — it had effects surprising — 
 
 Cruelty check'd his barbarous career, 
 
 As Mercy dropp'd the interceding tear. 
 
 Refinement now began to clear 
 
 And cultivate the savage waste ; 
 The briars and thorns to disappear, 
 
 That marr'd the tender growth of Taste. 
 Enrich'd by Education's toil, 
 Fair plants adorn the mental soil. 
 
 The light of Intellect arose, 
 
 And shed abroad its searching ray ; 
 Learning beheld her Gothic foes, 
 
 Rudeness and Ignorance, decay ; 
 While Genius seiz'd his new-strung lyre. 
 And rous'd to llame the sparks of sentimental fire. 
 
 G 3
 
 8G THE BIRTH OF SENSIBILITY. 
 
 Bright Nymph ! still may a riper age 
 Thy influence spread — thy sway extend — 
 
 Amend the morals, and assuage 
 The feuds that hapless nations rend! 
 
 And, if a selfish prayer preferr'd may be, 
 
 From Discord's fatal gripe, O set poor Erin free!
 
 87 
 
 THE HARVEST CROCUS. 
 
 When Ceres, with a liberal hand, 
 
 Her bounty deals around ; 
 And Agriculture's joyful baud 
 
 Behold their wishes crown'd : 
 
 When Flora's gaudier beautiey fade, 
 Tliat bore the bell in spring ; 
 
 And silence reigns beneath the shade, 
 Where music wont to ring. 
 
 What time September's chasten'd beam 
 
 To rural walks invites, 
 Along the margin of the stream, 
 
 Or up the breezy heights : 
 
 g4
 
 88 THE HARVEST CROCUS. 
 
 When swallows on the house-top meet, 
 
 And now to take prepare 
 From northern dimes their voyage fleet, 
 
 To warmer fields of air — 
 
 Meek Flow'ret! then we greet thy birth 
 
 In yonder shelter'd bed, 
 Where meekly, from the lap of earth, 
 
 Thou lift'st thy blushing head. 
 
 Poor orphan ! no parental leaves 
 
 Protect thy infant form ; 
 Thee of that comfort Fate bereaves. 
 
 When cold descends the storm. 
 
 Thy plight forlorn, with pitying eye. 
 
 The Polyanthus sees. 
 And spreads a leafy awning nigh. 
 
 To shield thee from the breeze
 
 THE HARVBST CROCUS. 89 
 
 The redbreast too, at evening's hour, 
 
 (As if respect to pay) 
 Perches beside thee in the bower. 
 
 And chants his soothing lay. 
 
 Thy vernal sister sprang to light, 
 
 The lengthening day to cheer; 
 But thou com'st forth to charm our sight, 
 
 When winter's reign draws near. 
 
 Oh ! could the Muse thy date prolong 
 
 Beyond a floweret's doom, 
 Then should'st thou flourish in her song. 
 
 Perennially in bloom.
 
 !)(» 
 
 MOONLIGHT, 
 
 Lovely Ruler of the night, 
 
 Whom the glorious King of day 
 
 Deigns, vvhtiu he retires from sight, 
 To invest with sovereign sway ; 
 
 Bidding all the stars, I ween. 
 
 Thee acknowledge as their queen. 
 
 Darkness doffs his dusky casque. 
 Soon as thou appear'st in view — 
 
 Clouds, by turns, thy bright face nuiscjue. 
 Flitting o'er the welkin blue. 
 
 Gentle breezes brush the main, 
 
 Proud thy cheering smde to gain.
 
 MOONLIGHT. 
 
 On the mountain's misty head 
 As thy radiant beams arise, 
 
 Gladden'd rocks their bosom spread- 
 Streamlets glisten to the skies. 
 
 Forests, with fantastic shape, 
 To the night-breeze gaily nod — 
 
 Terror tlies the stormy cape — 
 Beauty decks the dewy sod; 
 
 Shrubby glen, and naked height, 
 
 Hail the beauteous borrow'd light. 
 
 Lovers thy kind intiuencc bless, 
 
 To soften and persuade the heart- 
 Poets, too, thy power confess - 
 
 Painting— every poUsh'd art; 
 Even old Homer's matchless Muse 
 Thy inspiring aspect wooes. 
 
 91
 
 92 MOONLIGHT. 
 
 Fairies, by the haunted stream. 
 From their dark cells issuing, 
 
 Under thy inviting beam. 
 Trip around the magic ring ; 
 
 Whilst aerial music near, 
 
 Charms the shepherd's wondering ear. 
 
 Thus the Ocean, Earth, and Air, 
 With one consentaneous voice. 
 
 Thy beneficence declare — 
 In thy happy sway rejoice : 
 
 Man and beast, herb, flower, and tree. 
 
 Hail the boon bestow'd by thee.
 
 03 
 
 ROSSTREVOR. 
 
 All you who in scenes of wild grandeur delight, 
 Where Nature and Art in conjunction endeavour 
 
 To furnish a treat for the traveller's sight, 
 
 Repair to the coast of romantic Rosstrevor. 
 
 Here are mountains whose summits the sky proudly 
 pierce, 
 While long-winding vallies their broad bases sever — 
 Famed Phocis, that classical region of verse, 
 
 The Muses admit could boast nought like Ross- 
 trevor. 
 
 Arcadia! thy shades flit my fancy across, 
 
 Where Pan on his pipe used so sweetly to quaver. 
 
 As I ramble among the plantations of Ross, 
 
 And list the blithe notes of the Nymphs at Ross- 
 trevor.
 
 94 ROSSTREVOR, 
 
 Each vale hero, for verdure, M^ith Tempes might vie — 
 Pure streams through their bosoms run murmuring 
 ever; 
 
 Yielding shepherd and flock an unfailing supply. 
 
 When Drought has absorb'd all but those of Ross- 
 
 TREVOR. 
 
 Old Neptune, around his whole briny domain. 
 
 Ne'er traced out a lovelier landscape — no, never ! 
 
 On the banks of the Tiber, the Thames, or the Seine, 
 Taste finds no retreat to compare with Rosstrevor. 
 
 'T is the favourite abode of the Goddess of health — 
 From its precincts afar fly fell Sickness and Fever : 
 
 Youth, Beauty, and Fashion, Age, Wisdom, and 
 Wealth, 
 Resort to the life-cheering coast of Rosstrevor.
 
 95 
 
 TO AN /EOLTAN HARP, 
 
 PLACED IN A WINDOW AT DROMORE HOUSE, 
 NOV. 10, 1810. 
 
 Ye viewless Minstrels ot" the air ! 
 
 Tliat, on the breeze's tuneful wing, 
 To this distinguish'd Hall repair. 
 
 And breathe such notes as Seraphs sing ; 
 Now grandly swelling, solemn, clear, and slow, 
 Now gently sinking, plaintive, soft, and low : 
 
 Come ye to soothe his aged ear. 
 
 Whom still the partial hand of Time 
 Spares, as he shapes, with fleet career, 
 
 His fatal course across our clime ? 
 Come ye, commissioned from the realms above, 
 To cheer the good man's heart with strains of hallowed 
 love ?
 
 96 TO AN JEOLIAN HARP. 
 
 Sweet visitants ! your stay prolong, 
 
 While frowning Winter strips the bower, 
 
 And checks the feather'd warbler's song ; 
 O still exert your magic power, 
 
 (If I without offence entreat you may) 
 
 And drive from these fair shades, pain, sorrow, far 
 away !
 
 97 
 
 A DIRGE. 
 
 I once had a Friend I held dear — 
 A Friend by experience well proved; 
 
 But Fate, by a fiat severe, 
 
 The stay of my comfort removed ! 
 
 And now he lies under the sod, 
 
 That 's shaded by yonder green willow — 
 His spirit I hope is with God, 
 
 Though earth's now his body's cold pillow. 
 
 Oh ! name not the worth of my friend ! 
 
 It excites keen sensations of sorrow — 
 Since remembrance no opiate can lend, 
 
 Oblivion ! thy aid let me borrow. 
 
 H
 
 98 A DIRGE. 
 
 But his virtues I ne'er can forget. 
 Till the last scene of life on me closes ; 
 
 Nor cancel affection's long debt. 
 
 Till Hiy head in the tomb too reposes. 
 
 How fleeting are all eartlily joys — 
 Existence itself how uncertain ! 
 
 Death oft, without notice or noise. 
 
 Arrests us — and down drops the curtain !
 
 99 
 
 TO A ROCK. 
 
 WRITTEN ON THE SEA-COAST. 
 
 Remote from scenes of noise and gain, 
 
 Derision's sneer, eflrontery's stare, 
 Here by the margin of the main. 
 With Solitude's congenial train. 
 
 Let me the intellectual banquet share. 
 
 Hail, thou majestic Rock ! 
 
 ^VTiose limbs gigantic, brow sublime, 
 Resist the tempest's billowy shock. 
 
 And mock the baffled wrath of Time : 
 Beneath thy awful figure, hewn 
 
 By mighty Nature's plastic hand, 
 
 Uncouthly rough, grotesquely grand, 
 My stranger-lyre whilst 1 attune, 
 
 h2
 
 100 TO A ROCK. 
 
 Oh, with a look of dumb regard 
 (If music move thy rugged breast) 
 Accept the lay to thee addrest. 
 
 And hospitably shield thy visitant, the Bard. 
 
 Fair is old Ocean's aspect now, 
 
 While zephyrs with their downy wings 
 Fan smiling Ether's sultry brow — 
 
 The curlew calls — the swallow sings; 
 And soft the tide-wave o'er the strand 
 
 Comes stealing in, with soothing sound; 
 And gently its green curls expand, 
 Till they thy fretted base approach, 
 
 The solid bar, primeval bound. 
 O'er which the boldest billows ne'er encroach. 
 
 Though none but Pleasure's sprightly forms 
 Are seen around thee now to float, 
 And buxom Joy's enlivening note 
 
 Alone salntes thy lofty ear ;
 
 TO A ROCK. 101 
 
 Yet, when the surly sire of storms 
 With iron sceptre ruled the year, 
 
 Oft has it been thy lot to view 
 
 The shattered barque —the shipwreck'd crew — 
 To hear the shriek of wild despair — 
 Terror's deep groan — Life's last faint prayer, 
 And all that dire Misfortune can impart, 
 To shock Compassion's eye, and wound her bleeding 
 heart ! 
 
 What revolutions hast thou seen 
 
 Among the peopled districts round, 
 Since first upon this site marine 
 
 Thy massive bulk Creation bound ! 
 Could'st thou have chronicled the strange 
 Events of each succeeding change. 
 
 Oh, what a history thine had been I 
 
 H 3
 
 102 TO A ROCK. 
 
 Now, would that dark Oblivion's veil 
 Were kindly doom'd to intervene, 
 
 And from Research's prying eye conceal 
 
 The loathsome list of savage feuds and crimes, 
 That Erin's annals stain, in past and present times!
 
 103 
 
 TO A WITHERED FLOWER. 
 
 Emblem of beauty in decay, 
 
 Beneath the wintry frown of Fate ; 
 
 Thy morning rose serene and gay. 
 And Hope for thee a longer date 
 
 Seem'd fondly to pourtray. 
 
 But ah ! the frosty breath of eve 
 
 Fell on thy tender form — 
 Hope's flattering vision to bereave, 
 
 Night roused a ruthless storm. 
 
 Thy lovely cheek's delicious red 
 Then suddenly turned pale — 
 
 The tresses that adorn'd thy head 
 Vanished before the gale. 
 h4
 
 104 TO A WITHERED FLOWER. 
 
 Thus have I seen a blooming maid. 
 Whose channs like thine were bright. 
 
 Seized by a dreadful typhus, fade, 
 And sink beneath its might !
 
 105 
 
 WINTER TOKENS. 
 
 The sap sinks down in the tree — 
 The hoai -frost descends on the air ; 
 
 And the sere leaf around 
 
 Bestrews the damp ground, 
 While loud blasts cry—" for winter prepare ! ** 
 
 To the ash of the mountain the Thrush, 
 The Blackbird, and Starling repair; 
 
 The Thorn too supplies 
 
 Its ruddy berries 
 To the half-starv'd, emigrant Fieldfare. 
 
 The bosom of the bosky dell, 
 
 Where gushes the spring's limpid store. 
 
 An asylum to seek. 
 
 From arctic hills bleak, 
 The Woodcock now visits once more.
 
 10(J WINTER TOKENS, 
 
 Hark ! the beagles are out, and the horn 
 Resounds from the valley and wood — 
 
 By the sons of the chase, 
 
 The Hare's timid race, 
 Midst loud paeans, to death are pursued. 
 
 The curtain of Night quickly falls, 
 And the Sun hastens early to bed ; 
 
 But to make us amends, 
 
 The starry cope sends 
 A supply of mild light in his stead. 
 
 Tis the season for man to enjoy 
 
 The fruits of his care and his labour — 
 
 Not to waste and destroy. 
 But keep part of the store 
 In reserve for the poor, 
 
 And be friendly and kind to his neighbour.
 
 107 
 
 THE SWALLOW. 
 
 On the wing of the night-breeze young hoar-frost de- 
 scended, 
 
 Gently sprinkling the breast of the bower and lawn ; 
 A cloud, on the brow of Slieve Donard suspended, 
 
 With its mantle of mist veil'd the roses of dawn. 
 
 A chilness pervaded the regions of ^ther, 
 
 That seem'd to tell Feeling bright summer was o'er ; 
 But still the stern heralds of Winter's bleak weather 
 Proclaim'd not his presence, as yet, on our shore. 
 
 And grey-bearded Autumn look'd healthy and hearty ; 
 
 And Labour, alert, led his band to the plain ; 
 While Plenty and Pleasure attended the Party, 
 
 Both as it went out, and return'd home again.
 
 108 THE SWALLOW. 
 
 The Swallow was busy her young brood asserabhng, 
 To take their departure to some foreign strand ; 
 
 Convened on the house-top, a council resembling, 
 They seem'd to consult on what route she had plann'd. 
 
 Fleet Emigrant ! still when thy social throng leaves us,^ 
 Deserted and lonely the landscape appears ; 
 
 Not the rail's, nor the cuckoo's departure so grieves us. 
 Thy presence our prospects and promenades cheers. 
 
 Now, favourite of Freedom! may Fortune protect thee, 
 From every mischance, as thou crossest the main I 
 
 And should she, in thy peregrination, direct thee 
 To visit the vallies of Greece, or of Spain; 
 
 Oh, tell them, that Erin w^ith deep indignation 
 The Tyrant's attempts to enslave them surveys — 
 
 That for his discomfiture — their liberation, 
 
 From morning to night she most fervently prays.
 
 109 
 
 THE GLEN. 
 
 When life was green and spirits gay, 
 Full oft adown yon winding Glen, 
 
 With careless step I used to stray. 
 And shun the noisy haunts of men. 
 
 I felt a charm in every spot. 
 Secluded as I mused along ; 
 
 And visions gleam'd, not yet forgot, 
 Inspiring the untutor'd song. 
 
 The jutting rock, with hoary brow, 
 Would Contemplation's eye attract ; 
 
 The crystal streamlet's gentle flow — • 
 The noisy little cataract.
 
 110 THE GLEN. 
 
 The thorny thicket — briery knoll — 
 The auburn hazel — willow grey — 
 
 The holly green — and o'er them all. 
 The spreading oak's sublime display. 
 
 And here the blackbird built her nest, 
 Protected from the casual gale ; 
 
 And here the thrush, with speckled breast- 
 And titmouse — Erin's Nightingale. 
 
 Here met the eye Spring's earliest bloom — 
 The daisy, primrose, pansy gay. 
 
 The yellow-tufted furze and broom, 
 Where oft the hare securely lay. 
 
 But Time, and Taste's incessant change 
 Of its old charms has robb'd the Glen, 
 
 And scarce a vestige in the range 
 Remains of all that deck'd it then.
 
 THE GLEN. Ill 
 
 The very rock, unsparing art 
 
 Hath from its ancient seat removed — 
 
 Tis alter'd so in every part. 
 
 The Muse now shuns the scene she loved !
 
 112 
 
 THE MORALIZING TROUT. 
 
 When Winter ia his icy chain 
 
 Had firmly bound each liquid plain, 
 
 It so befel upon a day, 
 
 A brisk young Sportsman bent his way 
 
 To a deep river, frozen o'er, 
 
 Whither he frequently before. 
 
 In the sweet spring-time of the year, 
 
 To angle had been wont to steer : 
 
 But different now was his intent. 
 
 To skate upon the ice he went. 
 
 Him all the finny tenants fear'd. 
 Whene'er he on the banks appear'd ; 
 For, of their numerous foes, was he 
 Esteem'd the craftiest enemy ;
 
 THE MORALIZING TROUT. 113 
 
 And oft with importuning cries 
 Had they implored the deities 
 Presiding o'er their watery state, 
 To pity their unhappy fate, 
 And grant just vengeance on the foe. 
 That plagued their peaceful regions so. 
 
 But tho'just vengeance be deferr'd, 
 Yet pious prayers are always heard. " 
 
 The Gods will right the wrongs of those 
 Who sufter from uninjur'd foes; 
 And when Distress to them complains, 
 It soon or late redress obtains. 
 
 Now o'er the shining slippery sheet 
 The bold youth glides on flying feet — 
 Fearless — unwarn'd, so nigh his doom, 
 Nor dreaming of a watery tomb — 
 When lo ! the faithless ice gave way, 
 Where deep beneath the water lay,
 
 114 THE MORALIZING TROUT. 
 
 And down at once he, whom it bore, 
 Sunk m the chasm — to rise no more ! 
 
 His fate beheld a watchful Trout, 
 And from his lair straight bolted out. 
 Among his neighbours to diffuse 
 The welcome unexpected news — 
 " Rejoice ! my friends, rejoice !" he cries, 
 *' Behold our foe here lifeless lies ! — 
 He, who such savage pleasure took 
 To torture us with line and hook, 
 Hath now in pain resign'd his breath. 
 And met himself a dismal death!" 
 
 On this shot forth unnumber'd shoals. 
 From reedy haunts and rocky holes. 
 And tow'rds the lifeless body sped. 
 With intermingled joy and dread ; 
 When the same Fish again began 
 Thus to harangue the finny clan —
 
 THE MORALIZING TROUT. 115 
 
 •' The Gods undoubtedly design'd, 
 At the creation of mankind, 
 That other creatures should obey 
 Only theirjust — not tyrant sway. 
 
 " But it was never their intent. 
 That man bis subjects should torment. 
 And here, my brethren, you may see 
 A proof, as plain as proof can be. 
 That signal vengeance will o'ertake 
 Those who their righteous laws forsake." — 
 He ceas'd — and when th' applause subsided, 
 Back tow'rds his lurking-place he glided ; 
 But ere he reach'd it, on the way 
 A tyrant pike made him its prey ! 
 
 I 2
 
 116 
 
 ERIN TO A FAVOURITE ABSENTEE. 
 
 Pride ef my heart, where art thou straying? 
 
 Too long hast thou forsaken me ! 
 On Seine's gay borders thou'rt delaying, 
 
 Bewitch'd by foreign melody. 
 
 Ungrateful ! well thou know'st I love thee, 
 With all a mother's warmth of love ; 
 
 And now if no entreaty move thee. 
 If thou undutiful shalt prove — 
 
 Altho' I never will disown thee, 
 
 Dear object of my former care ! 
 If thou desert me, I can only 
 
 Regret that any foreign Fair
 
 ERIN TO A FAVOURITE ABSENTEE. 117 
 
 Should rob me of that fond afFectiou, 
 That warm'd thy bosom once for me — 
 
 That, in cool moments of reflection, 
 I trust is cherish'd still by thee. 
 
 Ah ! then abroad no longer pondering 
 
 On gaudy scenes and gilded charms, 
 Return ! give o'er thy weary wandering— 
 
 Once more repose in Erin's arms. 
 
 Let Memory's eye (for nought can warp her) 
 
 Present Avocas friendly vale. 
 And Tara's hall, where erst the Harper 
 
 Recited oft his tuneful tale. 
 
 Oh ! it is true — and Taste avows it — 
 
 The " Light of song" will soon expire 
 In our dull isle — unless, to rouse it. 
 
 Thou speedily bring back thy lyre. 
 
 I3
 
 118 
 
 DISTANCE. 
 
 While sweets possess'd are often seen to cloy, 
 Privation gives a relish to enjoy. 
 Pursuit, some favourite object to acquire, 
 More pleasure yields than gratified desire. 
 Whate'er lies hid in darkness, or in doubt, 
 Excites an eager wish to find it out. 
 Thus Distance oft, to youthful Fancy's gaze, 
 Scenes of ideal happiness displays ; 
 While those familiar, tangible, and nigh, 
 Fail to attract, or please her wandering eye. 
 
 What tempts the young Adventurer to roam? 
 Some charm far distant from his native home ;
 
 DISTANCE. 119 
 
 Some mist-born meteor, fugitive and bright ; 
 Some rainbow, raised to mock his dazzled sight — 
 As he pursues, the gay illusion flies, 
 And when he strains to grasp it, sinks and dies. 
 Then as the fairy prospect round him fades, 
 Dire Disappointment's pang his heart pervades : 
 He thinks on joys he spurn'd — his folly mourns — 
 And, goaded by repentance, back returns. 
 
 The flame of Love more ardent seems to grow. 
 Its shades between if envious Distance throw. 
 Remoteness from the object of desire. 
 Still adds fresh fuel to the kindled fire ; 
 And heavily the wheels of life revolve. 
 Till Time the interposing spell dissolve. 
 If fickle Fortune adverse turn the tide, 
 And cross events bid cordial hearts divide ; 
 The separation always tends to bind 
 Affection's bond more firmly on the mind. 
 
 14
 
 120 DISTANCE. 
 
 The bars of Distance, as they intervene, 
 Endear the memory of each social scene ; 
 O'er pleasures past extend a pensive shade, 
 And consecrate the vows that Love or Friendship 
 made.
 
 121 
 
 REMINISCENCE. 
 
 " Meminissc juviit." 
 
 In Memory's dim reflecting glass, 
 
 Where Youth's departed pleasures still, 
 Like glimmering phantoms, rise and pass, 
 
 The fading retrospect to fill. 
 The curious eye delights to gaze, 
 
 Though mournful musings oft intrude. 
 That throw a transitory haze 
 
 O'er pensive solitude. 
 
 The Parent, who with tender care 
 Our infancy watch'd daily o'er — 
 
 The Friend that used our joys to share. 
 Now bless our sight no more !
 
 122 REMINISCENCE. 
 
 The scenes that smiled upon our biilh, 
 
 Fast sink to dull decay. 
 And those we once loved best on earth, 
 
 Time's scythe hath swept away I 
 
 Such is the lot to man decreed. 
 
 In life's sublunar range ; 
 As years glide on with ceaseless speed, 
 
 They bring incessant change : 
 And 'tis true wisdom oft, to yield 
 
 When disappointments cross — 
 Contention in Misfortune's field, 
 
 But aggravates our loss. 
 
 Ah ! what avails th' Egyptian's art. 
 
 The lifeless form to save ? 
 Sculpture, nor painting, can impart 
 
 A respite from the grave !
 
 REMINISCENCE. 123 
 
 The noblest master of the lyre, 
 Upon the list of Fame, 
 
 Could but by all his skill acquire- 
 A record of his name.
 
 124 
 
 MUSIC AND BEAUTY. 
 
 When Music and Beauty together conspire, 
 To ravish at once both the sight and the soul, 
 
 How hard 'tis to quell the strong rebel. Desire, 
 Tho' Reason exert all his sovereign controul ! 
 
 Old Gravity lessons of prudence may teach. 
 And quote sage examples of cold self-denial — 
 
 But pray has the stoic, who deigns thus to preach. 
 Of the Syrens, so sweet, e'er encounter'd a trial ? 
 
 Had liis heart e'er been smit by the shaft of a smile. 
 Or his senses entranced by the charm of a sound— 
 
 He'd lecture us then in a different style. 
 
 And frankly admit what he strove to confound.
 
 12o 
 
 EPITAPHS. 
 
 ON THE REV. JOHN BEATTY, 
 
 LATE VICAR OF GARVAGHY, NEAR DROMORE. 
 
 If unaffected piety and truth, 
 
 Cherish'd to latest age from earliest youth — 
 
 If warm benevolence for all mankind, 
 
 An honest heart, and independent mind — 
 
 If friendship, aiming at no selfish end, 
 
 To censure loth, but eager to commend — 
 
 If learning, from its classic fount derived, 
 
 And humour that the eightieth year survived — 
 
 If qualities like these can man endear, 
 
 His name shall be revered, whose dust lies here.
 
 126 EPITAPH ON A TAILOR. 
 
 ON A TAILOR- 
 
 Here rests a Tailm; who for business itch'd ; 
 
 Who took Imge measure, cabbaged, clipp'd and 
 
 stitclid : 
 Of learning's shreds possess'd ('tis said) a few, 
 Composed charades sometimes, and riddles too — 
 But ah ! his trade is done — his muse is mute, 
 For Death has wrapp'd him in his last dark suit !
 
 127 
 
 SKETCH OF A FINE DAY IN OCTOBER. 
 
 The dua fog early fled from vale and hill — 
 The night-wind closed its wing — the woods were still- 
 Save when the sere leaf rustled from its spray. 
 Or Robin, mounting, tuned his morning lay. 
 The clear blue vault above, expanding wide, 
 Display'd the golden sun in orient pride. 
 The meads in green attire were dress'd anew. 
 And bright the lake and streamlet struck the view ; 
 Reflecting in their mirror objects near. 
 While soothing murmurs caught attention's ear. 
 Labour was busy on the russet plains. 
 Whose furrow'd bosom man's best wealth contains ; 
 Or treasuring in his barns the gather'd store, 
 His hopes accomplish'd, apprehensions o'er.
 
 128 SKETCH OF A FINE DAY IN OCTOBER. 
 
 The calm air's temperature was soft and mild- — 
 
 So pleasantly the placid landscape smiled. 
 
 That, to a mind not absolutely sober, 
 
 It seem'd as if young May had married old October.
 
 12.9 
 
 EPIGRAM. 
 
 When gloomy Sorrow throws her shade 
 Around the blasted seat of Mirth, 
 
 The magic flowers of Fancy fade. 
 And Hope itself seems sunk to earth. 
 
 What balm can cure the pang that rends 
 Forlorn Affection's wounded heart? 
 
 When Fate the dismal summons sends. 
 That bids a wife and husband part — 
 
 For ever part ! — Yes, gentle Bard, 
 Though deep the grief — acute the pain, 
 
 To find a cure is not so hard — 
 Let the Survivor wed again. 
 
 K
 
 130 
 
 TO THE KOSE. 
 
 O SWEETEST child of genial Spring, 
 Return ! — the wintry storms are o'er ; 
 
 And zephyr waits, with patient wing. 
 To waft around thy fragrant store. 
 
 And lo ! the fond expectant bee 
 Resorts to every blooming plain, 
 
 And searches every shade for thee, 
 Longing to meet his Rose again. 
 
 And hark ! the minstrels of the grove 
 For thee exert their vocal powers — 
 
 Mirth, beauty, melody, and love, 
 Invite thee to their favourite bowers.
 
 TO THE ROSE. 131 
 
 Then come ! — thy blushing bud expand — 
 In all thy birth-day splendor dress'd, 
 
 Prepare to grace Maria's hand. 
 To bloom upon her gentle breast. 
 
 And when those fragrant petals fade, 
 
 As on that bosom they recline — 
 This moral lesson teach the maid — 
 
 Beauty^ s brief reign resembles thine. 
 
 k2
 
 132 
 
 MARCH. 
 
 Winter's dull dominion's past, 
 February breathes his last. 
 Mounted on his breezy car, 
 Namesake of the god of war, 
 March resumes his cheerful reign — 
 Agriculture plants the plain ; 
 Vegetation swells the bud ; 
 Music animates the wood ; 
 Mirth inspires the sylvan song, 
 Love unites the feather'd throng. 
 Bright beneath the genial beam. 
 Smiles the hill, the vale, the stream. 
 Light the fluey vapouis fly 
 O'er the smiling azure sky.
 
 MARCH. 133 
 
 Pleasure and her sprightly train. 
 On the laughing land and main. 
 Greet once more the gladden'd ear 
 With the tidings — Spring draws near. 
 
 K3
 
 134 
 
 TO APRIL. 
 
 Sprightly precursor of majestic May, 
 Queen of the lofty brow and laughing eye, 
 Welcome, thrice welcome to our plains once more. 
 With Pleasure in thy train. 
 
 Nature exults : the song from bower and lawn 
 Of countless choristers, in symphony 
 With hers that floats along th' ethereal vault, 
 Delights the listening ear. 
 
 Rejoicing earth renews her green attire, 
 
 And bursting from the bondage that restrained 
 
 Their vernal vigour, Flora's lovely race 
 
 Greet charm'd Attention's gaze.
 
 TO APRIL. 135 
 
 The forest, long deserted, now begins 
 To lay aside its dull forbidding look; 
 And as encircling germs its limbs invest, 
 
 Fresh notice seems to court. 
 
 Ocean, though often vex'd by upstart blasts. 
 That rush, unwelcome, o'er his frowning face, 
 Assumes a milder mien, as if to woo 
 
 Man to his bright domain. 
 
 Light, clear, and lively, beams the pebbled brook, 
 Whither the patient angler bends his way, 
 T' entrap the finny tribe, that in their sport 
 
 Oft fatally arrest the mimic lure. 
 
 Along the dark recesses of the vale, 
 Returning zephyrs waft the cuckoo's note, 
 That rousing Echo from her wintry trance. 
 Receives a prompt reply. 
 
 K 4
 
 136 TO APRIL. 
 
 The Muse, partaking in the general mirth 
 That all around prevails, grows merry too. 
 And from thy cup, fantastic April, drinks 
 
 A cordial health to all her blithe compeers.
 
 137 
 
 TO MAY. 
 
 Awake the lute, the fife, the flute, 
 The doric reed, the choral song — 
 
 Blithe nymphs and swains, to music's strains 
 Lead the fantastic dance along. 
 
 For lo ! to-day the blue-eyed May 
 Once more her grateful reign renews ; 
 
 And love and mirth o'er smiling earth 
 Their blended influence wide diffuse. 
 
 The turtle cooes, the blackbird wooes 
 His dusky mate in gTOve and glen ; 
 
 The snipe aloft, with warblings soft. 
 Cheers his brown partner of the fen.
 
 138 TO MAY. 
 
 The crystal stream invites the beam 
 
 On its fond bosom to recline — 
 The beam descends, new lustre lends 
 
 The silver stream's meandering line. 
 
 The flow'ry race expand apace. 
 
 And hill and dale with beauty glow ; 
 
 The painted fly attracts the eye, 
 
 While soft the whispering breezes blow. 
 
 Now cull a wreath that balm shall breathe. 
 Fresh from the dewy lap of morn ; 
 
 Meet homage pay to lovely May, 
 And all her sylvan shrines adorn. 
 
 Awake the lute, the fife, the flute. 
 The doric reed, the choral song — 
 
 Blithe nymphs and swains, to pleasure's strains 
 Lead the fantastic dance along.
 
 139 
 
 TO JUNE. 
 
 While Summer weaves her flowery wreath, 
 While fragrant zephyrs sweetly breathe, 
 While beauty charms the ravish'd eyes 
 With fairest forms and richest dyes ; 
 The Muse attunes her rural lay 
 To the bright heir of blooming May. 
 
 O June ! were mine the potent song, 
 That erst, Elysian bowers among, 
 Prevail'd o'er stubborn Fate's decree, 
 And set the Grecian lady free ; 
 I'd try to charm thy lofty ear, 
 Prolong thy empire o'er the year ; 
 Old Time, in silken slumbers bound, 
 Should cease to run his wonted round.
 
 140 TO JUNE. 
 
 And wonder every nation fill, 
 To see the sun again stand still. 
 
 Where Scandinavia's mountains rise. 
 With snow-capp'd summits to the skies. 
 And Hecla, doom'd tor many an age 
 The burning war with frost to wage; 
 Soon as they feel thy influence warm. 
 Behold, the vegetable swarm, 
 Starting from their long polar trance, 
 With sudden shoot the stem advance, 
 Unfold the bud, the flower expand. 
 And deck once more the dreary land. 
 
 Such was thy influence, when the sage, 
 (The admiration of his age) 
 From Upsal's academic shade, 
 Through Lapland's lonely region stray'd. 
 Exploring arctic Nature's fields, 
 To cull whate'er her bounty yields;
 
 TO JUNE. 141 
 
 And when the toilsome task was o'er, 
 To classify the blooming store, 
 And form an useful work of art, 
 That much new knowledge did impart. 
 
 The Bard of Derwetit likewise strung 
 His tuneful harp for thee, and sung, 
 In sweet and scientific strain, 
 The blooming tribes of Britain's plain. 
 Invention's bright, fantastic race 
 Th' Enthusiast's bold descriptions grace- 
 Sylphs, naiads, gnomes, in silent rings. 
 And nymphs of flame on viewless wings. 
 Around th' ingenious minstrel throng, 
 Listening enraptured to the song. 
 That Vegetation's mystic powers, 
 The Loves of Plants, and Joys of Flowers 
 Portrays — unfolding thus to light 
 Secrets before conceal'd from sight —
 
 142 TO JUNE. 
 
 Secrets that must the Sceptic awe. 
 And from him this confession draw — 
 " A Being infinite, supreme, 
 Alone could form the wondrous scheme : 
 Still o'er its movements must preside — 
 Chance cannot such a system guide !"
 
 143 
 
 AUGUST. 
 
 The gooseberry's gone, but the cherry grows mellow ; 
 
 The corn, lately green, now turns rapidly yellow. 
 
 The meadow its russet robe yields to the mower ; 
 
 The toil of the reaper rejoices the sower. 
 
 The lammas-flood muddies the river and fountain ; 
 
 The tube of the fowler resounds on the mountain. 
 
 The shrubs in the garden still bloom round each alley ; 
 At eve the mist muffles the breast of the valley. 
 The sun his bright visits is daily curtailing ; 
 Dun clouds o'er the landscape are frequently sailing. 
 Young Zephyr but seldom dull Flora caresses, 
 For wan is her cheek, and discolour'd her tresses. 
 Though Nature's spent energy now appears fainter, 
 Yet still she looks fair to the eye of the painter; 
 And though with regret he perceives her decaying, 
 The Poet still finds her new beauties displaying.
 
 144 
 
 TO AUTUMN, 
 
 ON ITS DEPARTURE. 
 
 As when some pleasant entertaining friend, 
 
 Whose manners we admire, and worth esteem, 
 Prepares to leave us, and his journey bend 
 
 To distant regions, lighted by the beam 
 Of brighter suns and warmer skies than ours ; 
 At his departure, how regret o'erpowers 
 
 The kindred breast, like a distressing dream, 
 That weighs the senses down in sleeping hours. 
 
 Thus, lovely Autumn, does the Poet feel, 
 When to his land thou bid'st a long farewell, 
 
 And wintry storms that make the forest reel, 
 Sing their loud dirge along the echoing dell ; 
 While the day shortens, and the welkin lowers, 
 And Beauty's tears bedew the grave of her last 
 flowers.
 
 U-i 
 
 TO OCTOBER. 
 
 Hail, matchless painter of the sylvan scene. 
 Whose palette, charged with every blended tint 
 Of gay variety, rests on one arm, 
 In easy attitude, while to and fro, 
 A brush at random dipp'd, the other draws 
 With shadowy softness o'er the silent wood, 
 And gives each wondering tree its chequer'd hue. 
 
 Gradual and slow the gaudy change proceeds, 
 If mildness still her atmospheric sway 
 Maintain, and gentle zephyrs sport around. 
 But should stern Winter bid some blustering gale 
 Rush from the frowning North, on frosty wing, 
 The surly messenger, with rude dispatch, 
 
 L
 
 146 TO OCTOBER. 
 
 Snatches the brush from thy reluctant hand, 
 And blurs, and mars the beauteous work at once. 
 
 Of all the trees, the stately chestnut first, 
 The solemn sycamore, and portly lime. 
 Peel the fell influence of his ruffian haste, 
 And shed their blasted honours on the ground. 
 The slender willow next, and poplar tall, 
 Stript of their yellow locks, in sadness bend ; 
 But still the monarch of the wood resists 
 The rude assailant of his vernal pride, 
 While the tenacious beech a copper shield 
 Expands, to guard her noble chieftain s head. 
 The drooping thorn, that late with mantle green 
 W^elcom'd the shepherd to her noontide bower, 
 Now like some poor old meagre matron sits, 
 Shrivell'd, and dun, and dreary to behold, 
 Sighing to see her offspring left exposed 
 To fall the prey of every hungry bird. 
 That haunts unmusical her tangled boughs.
 
 TO OCTOBER. 117 
 
 Fantastic month ! I love to follow thee, 
 And view thy various pranks on hill and dale. 
 Sometimes a fowler trim, with dog and gun. 
 The feather'd tribes confess thy fatal art, 
 That thins and makes " the scatter'd covey mourn." 
 Sometimes a hunter on thy mettled steed. 
 Snuffing the keen untainted breath of morn, 
 I see thee urge th' uncoupled pack along 
 The misty plain, and from her secret form 
 In furze or fern, dislodge the startled hare, 
 'Midst a loud pa^an of pursuing tongues. 
 A farmer next, preceded by the plough, 
 I mark thee gathering from the furrowed field 
 The wholesome esculent, and in its place 
 Planting the future pledge of Plenty's reign. 
 And now a school boy, eagerly thou seek'st 
 The upland's breezy top, or open lawn. 
 To send aloft on the conducting line 
 Thy paper kite, with quaint device adorn 'd, 
 That, soaring, emulates Lunardi's boast, 
 
 l2
 
 148 TO OCTOBER. 
 
 And raises rustic wonder. But, alas ! 
 
 Such pleasing sights shall soon no more be seen : 
 
 For, lo ! thy sullen successor ev'n now 
 
 Prepares to spread his gloomy garniture 
 
 O'er shrinking Nature's face. Methinks I see 
 
 Already, on the dark horizon's verge, 
 
 His misty banner wave, while through the air 
 
 Portentous sounds announce his near approach. 
 
 October, favourite of the Muse, farewell '.
 
 149 
 
 THE 1-ALL or THE LEAF. 
 
 Hark! the wind whistles loud — 'tis the summons ol" 
 death 
 To the dehcate orphans that Autumn has left : 
 See the frost-smitten leaves, how they strew every 
 path — 
 Each plant and each tree of its honours bereft. 
 
 The deep-drenching rain, and the harsh-sounding 
 flood— 
 
 The mist-mantled evening, and rime-spangled morn, 
 To the feeble descendants of flesh and of blood. 
 
 Alternate, announce the dread Season's return. 
 
 La
 
 150 THE FALL Of THE LEAF. 
 
 Now farewell awhile to the musical grove, 
 
 Where pleasure and innocence used to convene ; 
 
 Farewell, ye fair arbours of friendship and love, 
 Sinaplicity's gambol — Mirth's dance on the green. 
 
 Since the rigours of Nature forbid us to roam. 
 Let Art the defect of amusement supply ; 
 
 From abroad let us turn our attention to liome, 
 And secure what the season thus seems to deny. 
 
 From the hearth now expel each sad emblem of Spring, 
 Whose beauty's departed, whose odours have fled; 
 
 Bring the splinter of wood — the live coal quickly 
 bring — 
 Let Vulcan, O Flora ! now reign in thy stead. 
 
 Give Minerva, and Momus, and Bacchus, the meed. 
 That each has in reason a right to expect — 
 
 By turns let us frolick — by turns let us read — 
 Be jovial sometimes, and at others, reflect.
 
 THE FALL OF THE LEAF. 151 
 
 Thus Time shall glide on, without marking his moon. 
 Or counting the turns of his slow-running glass, 
 
 Till the thrush's blithe note, and the blackbird's soft 
 tune. 
 Announce the return of the green-mantled lass. 
 
 l4
 
 152 
 
 TO NOVEMBER. 
 
 Parent of melancholy, murk, and mire. 
 Unwelcome visitant ! once more thou cora'st 
 To guide the progress of the crippled year 
 Now creeping to its close. Yon livid cloud, 
 That, like a huge black pall upon the sky, 
 Ascending from the bleak Atlantic wave, 
 Veils half the frowning visage of the west; 
 Bearing thy blustering equipage of storm. 
 To banish mildness from our atmosphere. 
 Drive lingering beauty from our faded fields. 
 And sink in dumb despair our drooping groves. 
 
 A Goth thou art, whose barbarous taste contemns 
 Aught that gives pleasure to the painter's eye,
 
 TO NOVEMBER. 153 
 
 Or wakes to ecstasy the poet's lyre. 
 Whate'er is dark and dismal to behold — 
 Whate'er is harsh or horrible to hear — 
 The roar of torrents rushing down the rocks — 
 The rage of tempests turning up the main — 
 Deformity, confusion, havoc, death. 
 Seem only to excite thy moody mirth, 
 And give thy gloomy bosom savage joy. 
 
 The scourge of Commerce thou hast always been. 
 No pirate fell from Tunis or Algiers, 
 Infesting Tyrian Neptune's old domain 
 With bold impunity, is dreaded more 
 By hapless mariners. Thy flag is false, 
 And he that trusts it surely finds a foe. 
 Thy very smile is but a treacherous lure, 
 To draw th' incautious into peril's path, 
 Where neither skill nor courage oft avails 
 To rescue them from ruin. Even War himself. 
 Fierce and unapt to shrink from other foes,
 
 154 TO NOVEMBER. 
 
 Appall'd at thy approach, collects his spoils, 
 And from the tented plain retires with speed, 
 To seek for refuge in the well-fenced town. 
 
 Yet while thy wrath, November, thus abroad 
 Inflicts on Nature's tribes distress and dread, 
 Philosophy serenely sits at home. 
 Concentrating her powers — amid thy gloom, 
 Cheering with light the intellectual scene. 
 Science unfolds the beauties of her page 
 To youthful Study's captivated view. 
 Inspiring ardent thirst for knowledge still. 
 As howls the tempest o'er the chimney top. 
 And loud the hail-shower patters on the pane. 
 The social circle and the festive board 
 Flourish beneath thy inauspicious reign ; 
 And Hospitality renews her rites, 
 As thou renew'st thy rigours.
 
 155 
 
 SONNET 
 
 TO THE 
 
 LORD BISHOP OF DROMORE, 
 
 (the late dr. PERCY) 
 
 Presented as a Neiu Yearns Gift, on the 1st of 
 January, 1805. 
 
 Could wishes health, that heavenly boon, command. 
 Through lengthening years its blessing still extend, 
 
 How would the poet's heart with joy expand, 
 To see it crown his venerable friend ! 
 
 Then as old seasons circled to their end. 
 
 And rolling Time brought round again the new, 
 
 Percy, the prayer for thee should still ascend, 
 And many a happy year yet meet thy view.
 
 156 SONNET TO BISHOP PERCY. 
 
 For ah, thy virtues are possess'd by tew — 
 Few exercise benevolence hke thine : 
 
 No flattery this, but sterling merit's due — 
 A tribute wafted from Truth's hallowed shrine. 
 
 May the return of this auspicious day 
 
 Augment thy comforts, and thy cares allay !
 
 157 
 
 TO MR. COLERIDGE, 
 
 ON READING HIS ELEGANT ODE, ENTITLED, 
 " FRANCE." 
 
 That strain once more ! it had no dying fall : 
 Tremendous minstrelsy ! — it shook my frame ! 
 
 'Twas Freedom struck the shell in her high hall — 
 On wing of fire the sound electric came, 
 And pierced my inmost soul, and rous'd to flame 
 
 Her finest, purest, noblest feelings all. 
 
 That strain once more ! — O may it rouse the world ! — 
 Ah no! great minstrel, cease ! — the spell is broke — 
 
 Gallia for Liberty has bled in vain ! 
 
 In vain from their red thrones her Tyrants hurled —
 
 J 58 SONNET TO MR. COLERIDGE. 
 
 Behold, submissive to the slavish yoke. 
 
 Her victor neck she tamely bends again, 
 And now, Helvetia, (dire portent for thee !) 
 Vievi^s with malignant eye thy struggle to he free. 
 
 Note.— At the time this sonnet was written, the French were 
 Itrcparing to invade Switzerland.
 
 159 
 
 TO SIR RICHARD MUSGRAVE, 
 
 WHEN ON A VISIT TO HIS FRIEND, BISHOP PERCY, 
 AT DROMORE HOUSE. 
 
 O Musgrave! whether Percy's favourite bowers, 
 (Th' historic IMuse companion of thy way) 
 
 Or fair * Gell-Hall invite thy steps to stray 
 Down yonder shady vale, where Lagan pours 
 
 His tuneful stream ; no image of dismay, 
 
 Or malice, o'er the smihng landscape lowers. 
 For here Reform'd Religion's holy ray 
 
 Hath gloomy Superstition's mist dispell'd ; 
 
 * The residence of the hxtc huneiited Countess of Clanwilliam.
 
 160 SONNET TO SIR RICHARD MUSGRAVE. 
 
 And Peace and Industry, in union sweet, 
 The gladden'd eye along the prospect greet ; 
 
 By her mild influence cherish'd and upheld. 
 How blest our isle, if that fell imp that stains 
 With crimes incessant her rich southern plains. 
 
 Were by the same celestial agent quell'd !
 
 Uil 
 
 TO THE REV. DR. DRUMMOND, 
 
 ON READING HIS " GIANT's CAUSEWAY." 
 
 The awful forms, that erst old Antrim's shore 
 Haunted, where yonder cliffs romantic rise. 
 Spreading their column'd grandeur to the skies. 
 
 While round their fretted feet the billows roar. 
 
 The work of giant hands in days of yore. 
 
 As northern legends say — to our charra'd eyes 
 
 Their lofty lineaments once more display. 
 
 In tuneful Drummond's fascinating lay, 
 And with a double prodigy surprise. 
 
 Fancy beholds, as from yon airy hall 
 
 His harp's sweet numbers glide along the wave, 
 
 The noble offspring of renown'd Fingal, 
 
 Delighted, listening in the " dark-brow'd" cave. 
 Where he high converse held with the departed brave. 
 
 M
 
 162 
 
 TO THE 
 
 MEMORY OF IZAAC WALTON. 
 
 Father of Anglers ! graceless were the Bard, 
 If thee, the patron of his favourite art. 
 
 He should forgot — nor token of regard 
 For thy respected memory impart. — 
 How sweet, at rising morn, with thee to start. 
 
 Mid blooming Nature's varied walks and views. 
 Charming the eye, and gladdening the light heart. 
 Accompanied by the descriptive Muse, 
 
 So entertaining on the way ! A kind 
 
 And cordial friend thou wast, and ready still 
 To teach thy pupil, with unrivall'd skill. 
 To lure the finny race, in stream or pond ; 
 
 And to portray to his delighted mind. 
 
 The pleasures of that Art, of which thou wert so fond.
 
 103 
 
 TO THE PRESS. 
 
 Thou greatest blessing, and thou greatest curse. 
 As Truth directs thee, or as Falsehood sways, 
 Thou public vehicle of blame and praise. 
 
 Pander of Vice, by turns, and Virtue's nurse ; 
 Oppression's tool, that shamefully betrays 
 
 The public interest, while the public purse 
 
 Supports thee, marking those degenerate days 
 
 When Nations grow corrupt : yet, Freedom's friend, 
 To deeds of noblest daring thou canst fire 
 The Patriot's bosom — bid the slave aspire 
 
 To rank with Freemen, and like them contend 
 For his just rights. Religion owns thy power, 
 
 But mourns when it's perverted to defend 
 
 Wild theories and creeds, the meteors of the hour. 
 
 M 2
 
 164 
 
 ON 
 
 HEARING OF MISS O'NEILL'S 
 
 FIRST ENGAGEMENT AT COVENT GARDEN THEATRE. 
 
 Nature had form'd the fair O'Neill to please — 
 A voice of melody — a soul of feeling — 
 
 A mien combining dignity and ease — 
 True excellence with modesty concealing. 
 
 And now to thee, Britannia, we confide 
 
 The precious charge of this choice Irish flower : 
 
 With kindness cherish it, for 'twas our pride, 
 To watch it blooming in its native bower.
 
 ON MISS o'neill. 165 
 
 And soon, or much mistaken is the bard, 
 
 Will thy discerning sons its value see ; 
 And own, that in the marks of her regard, 
 
 Erin ne'er sent a sweeter gift to thee. 
 
 Though rich in native rarities before, 
 
 New lustre this will add to the unrivall'd store. 
 
 M 3
 
 I(j6 
 
 ON 
 
 SEEING A BEAUTIFUL PHENOMENON, 
 
 IN THE SHAPE OF A LUMINOUS ARCH, 
 
 Which appeared in the A tmosphere, on the Evening of 
 the nth of September, 1814. 
 
 Celestial wonder, lovely stranger, hail! 
 
 Whose form majestic on the brow of night. 
 
 Clothed in the angel garb of purest light, 
 Makes apprehensive Ignorance turn pale ; 
 
 Filling the superstitious with affright. 
 As if portentous of some dreadful tale 
 
 Yet unreveal'd in the decrees of Fate ; 
 But yielding a sublime and new delight 
 To the philosopher, who views, sedate, 
 Each noble object Nature's pencil draws
 
 ON SEEING A BEAUTIFUL PHENOMENON. 167 
 
 On the celestial or terrestrial sphere ; 
 And who, exploring, unperturb'd by fear, 
 The grand phenomenon's apparent cause, 
 Explains it through the means of scientific laws. 
 
 Note. — It was very amusing to hear the diflferent opinions of the 
 wondering groupes as they gazed at this sublime phenomenon. 
 Some contended that it was a certain token of new wars ; others, 
 that it was a sure sign of the long continuance of peace. 
 
 M 4
 
 loa 
 
 ON THE 
 
 DEATH OF THREE FINE CHILDREN 
 
 IN THE HOOPING COUGH. 
 
 Three filial flowers of promise rare 
 
 Adorn'd a fond parental stem, 
 While warm affection's constant care 
 
 Foster'd each little precious gem. 
 
 But ah ! an unrelenting storm 
 
 O'erspread the sky and swept the shade, 
 And seizing on each blooming form. 
 
 Soon low in dust its beauty laid !
 
 ON THE DEATH OF THREE FINE CHILDREN. 161) 
 
 Parental feeling mourn'd the blow, 
 
 Of all its cherish'd hopes bereft — 
 Time on his list of private woe 
 
 Hath few more piteous records left. 
 
 Yet consolation still to those 
 
 Who felt the painful stroke is given — 
 
 These flowers, secure from future woes, 
 Now bloom perennially in Heav'n.
 
 170 
 
 TO MEMORY. 
 
 Memory ! a current long account 
 
 Of various dealings I now hold with thee — 
 
 1 like plain speech — and tell thee, the amount 
 
 Of sins and follies thou hast charged to rae, 
 I'll not give credit for. Perhaps too free 
 
 I speak — but those who quaff Castalia's fount 
 Claim privileges, and take liberty 
 To question — nay, oppose thy high authority. 
 Prithee be just — give every one fair play : 
 
 What tho' some spots the poets scutcheon tarnish, 
 Yet many shining traits, his flatterers say, 
 
 He hath, that well a few defects might varnish. 
 But let censorious folk think what they may. 
 
 He scorns his fame, at truth's expense, to garnish.
 
 171 
 
 TO MORNING. 
 
 When genial Spring's new drapeiy decks the bush, 
 
 And her green banner waves on every tree ; 
 Soon as the lark, the linnet, and the thrush, 
 
 Pour forth the mingled anthem, MoRN, to thee; 
 
 While tinkling rills augment the symphony, 
 And zephyrs scatter odours from their wings. 
 
 Prom sleep's dull couch, to join the minstrelsy 
 Of Nature's choristers, the poet springs : 
 Then, as around thy rosy herald flings 
 
 Light's kindling blushes, night's dun shades retire. 
 The vales rejoice, and every woodland rings, 
 
 Responsive to th' enthusiastic lyre ; 
 The mountain casts its misty crown away. 
 And all the dewy plains with rapture thee survey.
 
 J 72 
 
 .TO EVENING. 
 
 O THERE are spells in thy soft whispers, Eve ! 
 
 When all the din of busy day subsides. 
 That soothe the soul, and sweet impressions leave, 
 
 As lonely musing where some streamlet glides, 
 
 Or shady grove ascends, the Bard abides, 
 Watching, perhaps, the rising of the moon, 
 
 Or listening to the distant dash of tides. 
 Or neighbouring waterfall's unvaried tune. 
 The bower that Meditation sought at noon. 
 
 When Phoebus shed his fervid influence round. 
 And Summer finely, with her fragrant boon, 
 
 Bedeck'd the smiling surface of the ground. 
 Ne'er to the Muse afforded such delight. 
 As she enjoys in thine, mild harbinger of night.
 
 173 
 
 TO SPAIN, 
 
 ON READING THE ACCOUNT OF SOME EVENTS IN 
 THAT UNFORTUNATE COUNTRY. 
 
 And is that proud, unbending spirit dead. 
 
 That tired thy valiant sons in days of yore, 
 
 When nobly they expell'd the vanquish'd Moor? 
 By French seduction's treacherous influence led. 
 Has the weak conduct of a wavering Head 
 
 Ilnnerv'd thee, Spain ? Is patriotism no more ? 
 
 Has Independence left thy sordid shore. 
 And to Columbia's distant regions fled ? 
 
 Alas ! degraded Land, thy glory's o'er — 
 Illustrious Mina's effbrts all are vain ! 
 
 The Necromancer's spell thy sinews binds — 
 Fell Superstition locks thee in her chain — 
 
 Freedom's fond hopes are scatter'd to the winds. 
 And bondage is thy lot— Dissention icas thy bane !
 
 174 
 
 TO A CHESTNUT, 
 
 PLANTED BY THE AUTHOR. 
 
 'Twas in my vernal years I planted thee, 
 And many a season saw me with due care 
 
 Attend thy progress, till at length a tree 
 
 Thou didst become, and high thy branches rear. 
 
 Though time steals on apace, still stout and young, 
 Thou flourishest, and wide thy green arms spread. 
 
 Like those of the famed Beech, in Virgil's song, 
 That shelter'd shepherd Tityrus' tuneful head. 
 
 But ah ! the Bard who now indites the lay. 
 Expressive of his fond regard for thee. 
 Hath reach'd the evening of life's fleeting day. 
 And soon must leave behind his favourite Tree ! 
 
 Still may'st thou flourish beautiful and strong. 
 
 And with thy shade protect the " Child of Song !"
 
 175 
 
 THE STORM. 
 
 A TREACHEROUS smile illumed the brow of day — 
 Mild rose the morn, and soft was Zephyr's breath — 
 The calm sea slept — the wood was still as death. 
 
 Evening came on, not " clad in mantle grey," 
 
 But crimson, that effused a ruddy ray 
 
 Upon the misty mountain's towering crest: 
 
 Anon a breeze began the rustling heath 
 
 To brush, resounding o'er its rocky breast; 
 
 And soon, as if from some dark cave beneath 
 
 Let loose, the thundering Storm rush'd down the 
 dale. 
 
 Dense lowering clouds, ascending from the west, 
 Conceal'd the stars — the muffled moon look'd pale — 
 
 Night hid her face for fear — and madden'd ocean 
 
 Kous'd his terrific waves in dire commotion.
 
 176 
 
 TO A FRIEND IN AFFLICTION. 
 
 Moments there are, to pensive memory dear. 
 When solitary Sorrow seeks her bower, 
 
 To vent the secret sigh, and shed the tear. 
 
 For a lov'd partner, whom Fate's awful power 
 Hath summon'd to the tomb, ere youth's fair flower 
 
 Time's frosty breath had nipp'd and withered — 
 When fond Affection many a happy hour 
 
 Anticipated — now for ever fled ! 
 
 When Hope itself, that flatter'd him before. 
 
 With all her faithless train, is vanished. 
 
 And Sympathy's kind aid avails no more !— 
 What balm can now the wounded heart restore? 
 
 Earth yields it not— but still beyond the skies 
 
 A healing fount of consolation lies.
 
 177 
 
 THE SUNDAY SCHOOL. 
 
 As when mild Spring calls forth the infant bud, 
 
 That, swelling gradually, bursts into bloom. 
 
 Diffusing all around a sweet perfume ; 
 Whilst o'er the cheerful sky light vapours scud. 
 And sprightly symphonies, from grove and wood, 
 
 Banish the dull effects of Winter's gloom: 
 So Education's genial influence wakes 
 
 The germs of youthful thought. Beneath her rule. 
 
 The little group in yonder Sunday-School, 
 No longer idly waste the precious hours 
 In immorality — the young mind takes 
 
 A virtuous bias, gaining still new powers, 
 As dawning knowledge gently o'er it breaks^ 
 
 Producing, in due time, fair foliage, fruit, and 
 flovveri. 
 
 N
 
 178 
 
 TO ALTUMN. 
 
 Inspiring Autumn ! thou return 'staaain, 
 
 " Crown'J wilh the sickle and the yellow sheaf," 
 
 Herald of sniilhig Plenty's joyful reign, 
 
 Wafting to Wealth fresh comforts— Want, relief. 
 
 O thou art bountiful, and beauteous too, 
 
 Placed on thy throne of clouds, in princely style, 
 
 Beneath a canopy of brightest blue. 
 
 While heaven and earth hail thy benignant smile ! 
 
 For thee fond Night lights all her golden lamps, 
 Proud to befriend thee on thy prosperous way ; 
 
 While balmy dews distil refreshing damps, 
 To cool the fervour of departed day. 
 
 Nature for thee her robe renews again, 
 
 And vernal beauty follows in thy train.
 
 17J) 
 
 TO HIS GRACE 
 
 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 Warrior ! for thee I twine this little wreath — 
 Aa humble oftering from a friendly muse; 
 
 Nor deem, my Countryman, the gift beneath 
 Thy notice, nor, oflfended, it refuse. 
 
 Tho' jealous Faction thy bright fame abuse, 
 And squinting Envy at thy merit sneer, 
 
 Candour and Truth despise their sordid views — 
 To every friend of Freedom thou art dear. 
 
 Then persevere in thy sublime career, 
 
 By Honour sanction'd, and by Wisdom led ; 
 
 n2
 
 180 TO THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. 
 
 And teach the foes of Europe's peace to fear 
 
 Britannia's bands— with Wellesley at their head ; 
 While Nations rescued from Oppression's jaws, 
 Proclaim their gratitude, and thy applause.
 
 181 
 
 THE HOUR BEFORE THE BAITLE. 
 
 The Muse on Fancy's eager pinion borne 
 
 To yonder scene, adventurous, wings her way, 
 
 Where, hark ! grini-visaged War's terrific horn 
 Sounds the dire prelude to the desperate fray. 
 
 Nature, appall'd, beholds the dread display 
 Of Havoc's enginery. Mute Order reigns. 
 
 Patient but anxious, ere the dense array 
 
 Burst like a whirlwind o'er the shrinking plains. 
 
 Valour his calm, majestic look retains 
 
 While the fierce onset's signal he expects — 
 
 Chill runs the blood in Pity's curdling veins 
 As on the fatal issue she reflects. 
 
 The charge is sounded ! — Fancy flies the scene. 
 
 Where all thy furies, Carnage, now convene. 
 
 M 3
 
 18-2 
 
 THE HOUR AFIER THE BATTLE. 
 
 The Muse, on timorous wing, returns again 
 To view the scene that slaughter just has left; 
 
 Where Havoc yet, tho' silent, seems to reign, 
 And grim Despair still frowns, of life bereft. 
 
 The broken scimitar — the helmet cleft — - 
 The shatter'd musket — and the splinter'd shell—- 
 
 All that escaped the Victor's rage, or theft. 
 The conflict's dreadful consequences tell. 
 
 Peace to the spirits of the Brave who fell ! 
 
 Their toil is ended, and their sufferings o'er — 
 But pangs of sorrow pity's bosom swell. 
 
 To see the wounded weltering in their gore! 
 O cruel war ! to punish nations meant, 
 Such are the pictures thy dread scenes present.
 
 183 
 
 THE MOUNT 01' UllOMOIIE. 
 
 " ravtiniimt Mcnilcs," 
 
 To loftier themes the soiiu; let others frame, 
 
 For rude or cultivated charms renown'd — 
 Hills, whence old Greece derives her classic name, 
 
 Garnish'd with gods, with towers and temples 
 crowu'd ; 
 
 Adown whose sides, by shady woods erabrown'd. 
 Nymphs, Satyrs, Fauns, and Dryads whilom stray 'd, 
 Playing full many a droll, fantastic prank, 
 
 Such as no sublunary man or maid 
 Might now beseem, on any bosky bank. 
 
 Albeit of watchful eye there neither were afraid. 
 
 Such subjects and such scenery, though they shine, 
 Blazon'd by Fiction's fascinating art, 
 
 n4
 
 184 THE MOUNT OF DROMORE. 
 
 I deem unmeet to blend in verse of mine, 
 
 That aims but a faint outline to impart 
 
 Of a small eminence, or earthly wart. 
 Yclept a Fort, rais'd by the warlike Dane, 
 
 With no small labour, in the days of yore. 
 Hard by where Lagan leads his liquid train 
 
 To wash the miry feet of old Dromore, 
 
 And scour the rocky bed, that echoes to his roar. 
 
 What time the primrose, rous'd from winter's nap. 
 
 Erects her head beneath the budding thorn. 
 Peeping, like some fair damsel in her cap. 
 
 Out o'er th' unconscious bank her looks adorn ; 
 
 When rolling time brings round the welcome morn 
 Of Easter's festive tide, and Sol's bright beam, 
 
 Watch'd on that morn with superstitious care. 
 Is seen to dance on the reflecting stream ; 
 
 Hither the youthful multitude repair. 
 
 And as they climb the Mount, their shouts resound 
 in air.
 
 THE MOUNT OF DROMORE. 158 
 
 Some to the top with straining- steps ascend, 
 Frowning defiance at their peers below : 
 
 Some, cautious, round the spiral pathway wend 
 Jostling and gibing onward as they go ; 
 Striving at times each other down to throw. 
 
 And laughing at the hapless urchin's fall, 
 Who, rolling headlong to the nether moat. 
 
 Vents on the giggling victor words of gall. 
 And vows revenge — for lo ! his tine new coat 
 Is so defiled with dirt, at home he dreads to show 't. 
 
 Meanwhile the pairs, whom other aims engross. 
 
 Unlike what these competitors inspire, 
 Nor dreading risk of reputation's loss. 
 
 Into some less frequented walks retire, 
 
 (No mask on these occasions they require) 
 And tell their tales, and pledge their vows of love. 
 
 And haply fix the day, when Hymen's baud 
 Shall all their fond anxieties remove,
 
 lOa THE MOUNT OF DROMORE. 
 
 And crown their wishes with the promised iand. 
 At distance always bright — but bleak sometimes at 
 hand. 
 
 Thus glide the moments with wing'd speed away, 
 
 Till gentle evening, rising in the west, 
 Doffs gradually her robes of gold and grey, 
 
 And soon in shade envelopes earth's damp breast. 
 And now they part, with sighs of fond regret, 
 
 That such a pleasant day should end so soon ; 
 Oft casting wistful looks, when Sol has set. 
 
 On the dim east, to watch the tardy moon, 
 
 Whose friendly beams might still prolong the bliss- 
 ful boon. 
 
 N. B. It has long been the annual custom for the young folk 
 around Dromore to assemble on Easter Monday, and amuse them- 
 selves in various ways, on this celebrated Mount, one of the coni- 
 pletest specimens of the sort in the north of Ireland.
 
 187 
 
 TO A WOODLARK, 
 
 ON HEARING IT SING IN OCTOBER. 
 
 Repeat that note, thou charming bird ! 
 
 Repeat that syren strain — 
 Still let those " wood-notes wild" be heard 
 
 To cheer the drooping plain. 
 
 For fast fair Autumn's days decline. 
 
 Stern Winter 's drawing near. 
 And soon that charming pipe of thine 
 
 No longer shall we hear. 
 
 While mild October yet its green 
 
 Permits the mead to wear. 
 And gentle gales, and skies serene, 
 
 Yet soothe the sinking year;
 
 188 TO A WOODLARK. 
 
 Still on the soft wing of the breeze 
 
 Let thy sweet music tioat. 
 While Robin strains, on neighbouring trees. 
 
 His emulative throat. 
 
 Thus when, at Charity's kind call. 
 
 Fair Cooke's * " Sweet Robin" thrills. 
 
 Her note the admiring audience all 
 With silent rapture fills. 
 
 * The celebrated singer.
 
 189 
 
 THE CAT AND PIGEON-PIE. 
 
 Melpomene ! thy succour lend, 
 
 Whilst I attempt to sing 
 What dire disaster on a cat 
 
 A pigeon-pie did bring. 
 
 This cat was of the tabby breed, 
 
 Of seemly shape and size ; 
 And never did a more expert 
 
 The midnight mouse surprise. 
 
 Her sides were sleek and soft as down, 
 
 For in the kitchen rear'd, 
 The purring pet of Mrs. Cook, 
 
 She sumptuously fared.
 
 190 THE CAT AND PIGEON PIE. 
 
 But favouiites of all sorts, we find, 
 To mischief are most prone ; 
 
 And so with Tabby it turn'd out, 
 As shortly shall be shown. 
 
 It chanced, one day, some friendly folk 
 
 Invited were to dine — 
 Mark how unlucky incidents 
 
 For woful issues join ! 
 
 The Cook, that morn, with special care, 
 
 A pigeon-pie had made, 
 Which, till each other dish was dress'd. 
 
 She in the larder laid. 
 
 Puss licked her lip, and whisk'd her tail, 
 And great her longing grew, 
 
 To taste the savoury dish, whose scent 
 She in the warm air drew.
 
 THE CAT AND PIGEON PIE. 191 
 
 With eager eye she sat and watch'd 
 
 The well-known larder door — 
 At length 'twas open'd — she slipp'd in. 
 
 And squatted on the floor. 
 
 The Cook came out, niistrustless still, 
 
 And thinking all secure — 
 Puss in a corner skulk'd behind — 
 
 Lock'd was aaiain the door. 
 
 The door was lock'd — the prize in view — 
 
 And all so snug and still — 
 When out crept puss, and you may guess, 
 
 Forthwith regaled her till. 
 
 And now the foodful hour drew nigh — 
 
 The festive board was spread ; 
 And every dish, in order due. 
 
 Arranged from foot to head.
 
 192 THE CAT AND PIGEON-PIE. 
 
 But here the sequel of nay tale 
 
 (Most tragic to repeat !) 
 Comes on — the pigeon-pie remain'd 
 
 To till its vacant seat. 
 
 The Cook, to fetch it, now with speed 
 
 Into the larder went — 
 But O what pen could paint the rage 
 
 That her vex'd bosom rent ! 
 
 To see the precious dish, on which 
 Such pains she had bestowed — • 
 
 To see it mangled thus ! — her heart 
 With bitterness o'erflow'd. 
 
 She frown'd terrific — stamp'd and swore, 
 
 (As Cooks are apt to do) 
 That whoso did the foul misdeed 
 
 Should soon have cause to rue.
 
 THE CAT AND PIGEON-PIE. 19:1 
 
 Tabby, who till that instant had 
 
 Remain'd by all unseen. 
 The keen-eyed kitchen-maid descried 
 
 Behind a large tureen. 
 
 " Here, Mrs. Cook, 's the imp," she criesj, 
 
 " That did the mischief do ! " 
 Th' outrageous dame, to wreak her wrath, 
 
 Upon her favourite flew. 
 
 With iron ladle in her hand. 
 
 Of large and ponderous size, 
 She struck the culprit on the back. 
 
 Who flounders — screams — and dies. 
 
 Ye cats, be warn'd by Tabby's fate — 
 
 Your appetites restrain ; 
 Nor risk the wrath of hasty cooks 
 
 At dinner-time again. 
 
 Note. — The occurrence alluded to in tlic foregoing lines actu- 
 ally happened when the author was in iiis apprentic($1iip. 
 
 O
 
 J 
 194 
 
 FLATTERY. 
 
 " Non missura cutem nisi plena cruoris Hinulo." 
 
 Of all that tickle when they touch, 
 
 Running in rags — or robed in ermine — 
 Perch'd in a coach — propp'd on a crutch— 
 
 Flatterers are the most teasing vermin. 
 
 If clouds obscure the frowning sky, 
 They tell you 'tis a sign of brightness — 
 
 With them wet weather's fair and dry — 
 
 Warm, whilst snow wraps the world in whiteness. 
 
 Obsequiousness their spaniel art, 
 
 At truth's expense they strive to please you— 
 Fair visaged — but unsound at heart. 
 
 With falsehood's hand, like friends, they squeeze you.
 
 FLATTERY. 195 
 
 Your very vices they extol — 
 
 Prescribe a cure for all your ailings — 
 Humour your prejudices all- — 
 
 And find excuses for your failings. 
 
 Intent some secret end to gain, 
 
 Still in your praise they tune their speeches ; 
 Nor, till their object they attain. 
 
 Can you shake off the sordid leeches. 
 
 O bear me to some peaceful shade, 
 
 By parasites yet uninfested. 
 Sincerity ! celestial maid, 
 
 To pass life's evening unmolested ! 
 
 o2
 
 196 
 
 THE RETICULE. 
 
 How times are changed ! — in days of yore, 
 Good wives and daughters pockets wore : 
 They thought them useful — found them warm, 
 Slung at each side, beneath each arm — 
 That custom now has got the cool. 
 Supplanted by the — Reticule. 
 
 In summer's heat and winter's snow. 
 Lightness in dress is " all the go" — 
 " Lard, what a sight for lads to mock at, 
 Would be a lady with — a pocket ! " 
 Flavia, just from the boarding-school. 
 Exclaims, and sports her Reticule,
 
 THE RETICULE. 197 
 
 Philosophy may poze her brain 
 Effects and causes to explain ; 
 But gravity has lost, in fact. 
 Its boasted influence to attract; 
 And Nature's — Newton's sober rule, 
 Yields to wild Fashion's — Reticule. 
 
 The rose from Beauty's cheek is fled — 
 The nuded arm turn'd rough and red ; 
 While, shivering in the frosty breeze. 
 His pale Mamma sad Cupid sees, 
 " Dear Mother, cease to play the fool !'* 
 He cries — She shakes her Reticule. 
 
 But modern Eves essay in vain 
 To brave stern Winter's stormy reign : 
 Fell rheumatism — consumption — cough. 
 Will seize them — and take many off ! 
 Nor Physic's skill, nor Bath, nor Streule, 
 Can save the dupes of — Reticule. 
 
 o3
 
 im 
 
 TO IGNORANCE. 
 
 Who art thou, with peevish strain, 
 Near that ruin'd Abbey harpiug? 
 
 Cease thy murmuring, saucy swain ! 
 Nor at Ignorance be carping. 
 
 Ignorance, to Erin dear, 
 
 Still her genuine sons shall uourish- 
 Spite of thee, proud Sonneteer I 
 
 Still amongst us shall she flourish. 
 
 Who would pass his youth in toil, 
 Poring over books of knowledge — 
 
 Who his puzzled brain would broil. 
 Solving problems in a college ?
 
 TO IGNORANCE. l^J^ 
 
 Ignorance, thou friend of ease — 
 
 Idol of the jolly rabble — 
 Never shalt thou cease to please, 
 
 Tho' against thee wisdom gabble ! 
 
 Thou shalt Order's frown defy, 
 Always frolicsome and frisky : 
 
 "Whilst dull Learning's dupes are dry, 
 Thou art full of fun and — whiskey. 
 
 Ulster's moral Bards may rail, 
 
 But through life I'll sing thy praises ; 
 
 Careless who shall bite his nail — 
 
 Careless whose proud spleen it raises. 
 
 Should the merchants of Belfast 
 Build a college, in their fury ; 
 
 Should the mania too, at last, 
 Seize the sober sons of Newry ; 
 
 o4
 
 200 TO IGNORANCE. 
 
 Ignorance, I'll stick to thee; 
 And if thou— (depend upon it) 
 
 Should'st from Ulster banish'd be- 
 Why— I'll follow thee to Connmight. 
 
 And if Connaught shut thee out. 
 Scared by some poetic punster. 
 
 My attachment still ne'er doubt — 
 I will follow thee to Munster. 
 
 Caravat and Shanavest, 
 
 Thresher stout, and sturdy Whitehmj, 
 These shall guard their welcome guest. 
 
 Favourite of each gallant Nightboy.
 
 201 
 
 CHALK FARM. 
 
 In Lun'on town, an' a' avoun' 
 
 That nibourliood, they say, 
 Auld Clootie sets his traps an' nets, 
 
 An' catches rowth of prey. 
 
 There he contrives to shorten lives. 
 By methods maist uncivil — 
 
 Threaps, toolies, lies, an' snash replies. 
 Sen' thousan's to the devil. 
 
 A foolish huff, a pert rebuff, 
 A jest that meant nae harm, 
 
 Aft gie sic skaith, that woun's or death 
 Maun follow at Chalk Farm.
 
 202 CHALK FARM. 
 
 Bright wit itsel sen's some to h — II, 
 Pause Honour's law's sae cruel ; 
 
 An' criticism may mak sic a schism, 
 That it provokes— a duel ! 
 
 Ye sons o' Laer, beware, beware 
 Of meddlin' wi' dull lead — 
 
 A pistol-ba', tho' it be sma'. 
 Can snap the vital thread. 
 
 But gin yese fight as weel as write, 
 
 Whan ye're got in a scrape 
 Tak your discharge frae shot that's large- 
 
 Anacreon died by — grape.
 
 203 
 
 GRAVITY. 
 
 Sir Isaac, that surprising man, 
 Toil'd long, willi fruitless drudgery, 
 
 The universal cause to scan. 
 Ere he discover'd — Gravity. 
 
 At last he luckily espied 
 
 An apple falling from a tree — 
 " This ends my doubts" — elate, he cried, 
 " The world exists by— Gravity!" 
 
 That all things to their centre tend, 
 
 Since Newton's days the learu'd agree ; 
 
 King — statesman — warrior — scholar — friend- 
 Has each his point of — Gravity !
 
 204 GRAVITY. 
 
 Self-interest, Ambition, Love, 
 Compose the mighty centres three, 
 
 To which all else attracted, move. 
 With different pow'rs of — Gravity! 
 
 The patriot, while he puffs and blows. 
 And bawls so loud for Liberty, 
 
 Seeks — thinking none his object knows- 
 Some private aim of — Gravity. 
 
 The solemn Priest, our ghostly guide. 
 From sinful paths to keep us free. 
 
 Still his own failings strives to hide 
 Beneath a cloak of — Gravity. 
 
 The Judge, who looks so strictly just. 
 
 So void of partiality, 
 Like other fabrics of frail dust, 
 
 Is biass'd off by — Gravity.
 
 GRAVITY. 205 
 
 The Lawyer, who turns white to black, 
 
 And vice versa — for a fee. 
 Must own that he tlie magic knack 
 
 Derives from golden— Gravity. 
 
 The sage Physician, to whose skill 
 
 We trust our lives, if sick we be. 
 Let the prescription cure, or kill. 
 
 Owes half his fame to — Gravity. 
 
 The Critic, in his dark retreat, 
 
 Indulging with security 
 His spleen, poor Authors' hopes to cheat, 
 
 Damns, with malignant — GraJty. 
 
 The crafty Son of Merchandise, 
 
 Who bustles busy as a bee. 
 Both when he sells, and when he buys, 
 
 Puts on a mask of — Gravity.
 
 206 GRAVITY. 
 
 And as for Labour's humble race, 
 It needs no great sagacity 
 
 Their plain propensities to trace, 
 Without the aid of — Gravity. 
 
 But now I find the theme I sing 
 Begin to operate on me — 
 
 So, Muse, compose thy flagging wing, 
 And sink in silent — Gravity.
 
 207 
 
 GAS-LIGHT. 
 
 A COUNTRYMAN One day went down 
 
 To sell his pig in yonder town : 
 
 Twas somewhat late ere he got in, 
 
 Just as the Gas-lights did begin 
 
 To show their splendor—" Heigh," quoth he, 
 
 " Is this for some new victory ? 
 
 Or has some chiel, of muckle note, 
 
 Come owre this morn in the steam-boat ? 
 
 Fegs ! he's nae sheepshank in his station. 
 
 Folks greet wi' this Illumination! 
 
 I'm travellin' years aboon a score, 
 
 Betwixt Belfast an' auld Dromore ; 
 
 Sometimes in weather raw enough 
 
 An' whiles in eerie nights an' rough ;
 
 20U GAS-LIGHT. 
 
 But sic a shine, in dark or damp, 
 
 Ne'er saw these eyne frae globe or lamp ! 
 
 I thought, as I drew near the town. 
 
 The very stars were shootin' down ; 
 
 Or that some chiels awheen o' rockets 
 
 Were then dischargin' frae their sockets : 
 
 An' still I stapt, an' gazed, an' gazed, 
 
 At the strange unco sight amazed! 
 
 It seem'd to reach the clouds aboon. 
 
 An' mock the brightness o' the moon. 
 
 Just then a townsman chaunc'd to pass — 
 
 I speer't the cause — " Ye silly ass ! 
 
 The light you see proceeds from — Gas. 
 
 " Bless me !" quoth I, " whare Hves that chiel? 
 
 Some unco conjuror, atweel ! 
 
 Maybe has dealin's wi' the Deil !" 
 
 " You're right, my friend — where yonder spire 
 
 Vomits such smoke, he lives in^re. 
 
 About him, if ye'd further speer. 
 
 Step over — and you'll find him there —
 
 GAS-LIGHT. '20J> 
 
 To all that visit him he's civil, 
 Though conesponding with the Devil.' 
 " I'se dance," quoth I, " to nae sic jig, 
 But e'en push on, an' sell my pig: 
 For tho' I like to see his light, 
 I wadna thole the Gas-mans sight."
 
 210 
 
 THE BLUB SURTOUT; 
 
 OR, A PRIEST MISTAKEN FOR AN EXCISEMAN! 
 
 A CURIOUS incident of late 
 
 (Wliat various ways misfortune tries man !) 
 Occurr'd, which I shall briefly state, 
 
 Between a Priest and an Exciseman. 
 
 The strange mistake, as rustics tell, 
 Took place not in a low, but high land 
 
 For the scene lies, so it bcfcl. 
 
 Betwixt Dromara and Rathfryland. 
 
 A watchful hawk of the Excise 
 
 Had sallied early forth one morning, 
 
 To make some smuggled gear his prize, 
 By duty prompted — danger scorning.
 
 THE BLUE SURTOUT. 211 
 
 The prize secured, back he return'd 
 
 Safely to his own habitation ; 
 And on the way still danger spurn'd, 
 
 Nor met he any molestation. 
 
 But ah, how odd events turn out ! 
 
 On the same road a Priest was riding, 
 Like him, clothed in a blue Surtout, 
 
 Reckless of any ill betiding. 
 
 The Smugglers now a plan had laid, ' 
 
 To wreak their vengeance on the seizer ; 
 
 And near the road, in ambuscade, 
 
 They watch'd for his return, at leisure. 
 
 The Priest approach'd upon his barb — 
 The Smugglers with reproaches hail'd him ; 
 
 And judging, from his outside garb, 
 
 It was their foe — with clubs assail'd him. 
 
 P'2
 
 212 THE BLUE SURTOUT. 
 
 The injured man loar'd out amain — 
 
 Ask'd for what cause they thus abused him- 
 
 When one the reason did explain, 
 
 And with the Exciseman's act accused him. 
 
 " I'm no Exciseman! I'm a Priest ! 
 
 You're all egregiously mistaken — 
 He rode a much more flippant beast, 
 
 And haply thereby saved his bacon." 
 
 " A Priest ! a Priest !" th' assailants shout — 
 " We crave your Reverence's pardon — 
 
 We were misled by your surtout, 
 Else you we had not laid so hard on." 
 
 Henceforth let every Priest beware. 
 Who wishes to be deem'd a wise man, 
 
 Nor, when he rides on horseback, wear 
 A coat like that of — an Exciseman. 
 
 Note. — The foregoing Narrative is founded on fact.
 
 •213 
 
 THE CROWN LINEN-BUYERS. 
 
 To the markets and fairs still \vc merrily ride, 
 In sunshine, through hail, rain and snow ; 
 
 And we buy up the Linens as fast as untied, 
 And the sellers their webs to us show. 
 
 No credit we ask, but the rhino down lay 
 For each piece, when to pay we begin ; 
 
 And we chat, and we joke, with the weavers so gay, 
 In our snug little room at the Inn. 
 
 Then soon as the bustle of business is by, 
 
 And the throng, now dispersing, grows thinner, 
 
 We call for a glass of Boyd's ale— if we're dry — 
 Or partake of a plam hearty dinner. 
 
 Po
 
 214 THE BROWN LINEN-BUYERS. 
 
 The nags in the stable are never forgot, 
 That brought us to the market at morn : 
 
 To induce them to carry us back, at full trot, 
 We give each a good bo7ius of corn. 
 
 " To the road — to the road !" is the watchword atiaiii. 
 
 And merrily home we return : 
 Well lined with a beef-steak and Irisk Chanqmujne, 
 
 The wrath of cold Winter we spurn. 
 
 Thus healthy and hardy, our lives glide away. 
 
 For exercise still is Health's friend; 
 And few are the fees to the Doctor Ihcy pay. 
 
 Who the brown Linen Markets attend.
 
 2ir> 
 
 THE 
 
 HUMBLE PETITION OF DROMORE PIGS. 
 
 We, the Swine of Dromore, at a numerous meeting, 
 To all lovers oi pork this petition send greeting — 
 To both Houses of Parliament — nay, to the Tluone — 
 Privy Council, and Courts, their hard case to make 
 known. 
 
 Whereas we of late, by some cruel decree, 
 Have been rudely deprived of that dear liberty 
 Which our bold predecessors cnjoy'd in times past. 
 And which we, their successors, hoped always would 
 
 last. 
 For conlincd to a sly, like seized cows in a pound, 
 Where oft we can scarcely find room to turn round ; 
 
 P 4
 
 2ie THE PETITION OF DROMORE PIGS. 
 
 Half-fed and half-littcr'd, we grunt on through life- 
 Even counting the Butcher— a friend with his knife ! 
 For imprisonment, all must confess who draw breath, 
 Is worse to endure than the sentence of death. 
 In vain to our owners we squeak and repine. 
 
 They dare not release us for fear of— a^we 
 
 And this very Meeting, convened now by stealth, 
 If known, they declare, must diminish their wealth ; 
 And perhaps upon us other hardships impose, 
 Such as yokes round our necks, and a ring in each nose. 
 
 Then pity our case, O ye Rulers in Chief! 
 And grant us, hy some new enactment, relief: 
 For who better titles to Freedom can plead, 
 In peace or in war, than the soivs useful breed ? 
 Your armies, your navies, that such wonders work, 
 Show what men can do, who are fed upon— pork. 
 Dear Liberty then to us Captives restore. 
 And our thanks shall resound through the streets of 
 
 Dromore.
 
 217 
 
 JOHN M'CUICKET. 
 
 As yonder cottage on tlie liill 
 
 You enter by a wicket, 
 Close by the tire, in evening's chill, 
 
 You'll find old John M/Cricket. 
 
 His countenance still looks severe, 
 His mind seems always muddy. 
 
 As if oppress'd with too much care, 
 Or moil'd with too much study. 
 
 In speech he's wondrous sharp and short, 
 
 Yet pithy and serttentious : 
 He hates the jester's gibe and sport, 
 
 With every thing licentious.
 
 218 JOHN M'CRICKET. 
 
 Dearly he loves a drop of dram, 
 
 Bought at another's cost ; 
 But looks as sulky as a ram, 
 
 If scolded, bilk'd, or cross'd. 
 
 To wastefulness he ne'er inclined, 
 Like many a senseless ninny; 
 
 'Tis long since he began to find 
 The value of — a guinea. 
 
 Yet if the voice of Fame speak truth, 
 There was a day when John 
 
 Could play some pranks, like other youth- 
 But that day's past and gone. 
 
 He 's now as sober as a judge 
 
 That sits upon the bench ; 
 No wag can say — " 1 saw him trudge 
 
 With idle rake or wench."
 
 JOHN M'CRICKET. 211) 
 
 Let meal be cheap, or meal be dear, 
 
 Want never caught him napping ; 
 He keeps his bag stock'd all tlie year, 
 
 Whatever change may happen. 
 
 One cat is all his living stock, 
 
 Except an aged wife — 
 His furniture — one can — one crock — 
 
 One bed — one pot— one knife: 
 
 Two stools — two trenchers and a bowl — 
 
 A shovel — and a spade — 
 The useful tools wherewith, j)oor soul ! 
 
 He carries on his trade. 
 
 At morn he rises with the lark. 
 
 Nay, frequently before him — 
 He goes to rest when it grows dark, 
 
 Sound sleep soon hovers o'er him.
 
 220 JOHN M'CRICKET. 
 
 Hence health, the friend of early hours, 
 His constitution strengthens ; 
 
 For labour he acquires fresh powers, 
 Old age itself he lengthens. 
 
 And sure his neighbours now may say. 
 Since he has pass'd death's wicket. 
 
 They never knew one, in his day. 
 Made ends meet like M'Ckicket.
 
 221 
 
 FIVE-AND-FORTY WIDOWS. 
 
 FiVE-AND-FORTY widows were sipping sweet Spa- 
 water 
 
 At oh ! alackaday ! 
 
 Death among mankind makes terrible slaughter. 
 
 Well these milortunate ladies may say! 
 
 Five-and-forty widows, all at their leisure. 
 
 Viewing Nature's charms on a tine summer day, 
 
 Arrived at a gate where a Squire's grounds of pleasure, 
 Verdant lawns, winding walks, and shady bowers lay. 
 
 But closed was that gate, and a lock on the centre — 
 The widows beheld the rude bar with dismay — 
 
 " No water-drinking ladies on these grounds must 
 enter," 
 A sour-visagcd Janitor was heard then to say.
 
 222 riVE-AND-FORTY WIDOWS. 
 
 O stern was the heart that could issue such an order ! 
 
 'Twas hke January scowhng at beautiful May ; 
 And reluctance e'en rose in the breast of the warder. 
 
 To turn five-and-forty fair widows away. 
 
 But fret not, fair dames, thus morosely excluded 
 From haunts where the Fairies and Fauns love to 
 stray ; 
 
 Eve's lamp along paths, though of verdure denuded, 
 Shall still cheer your steps in the cool of the day. 
 
 While he who commanded his porter to bar gate, 
 Sequester'd may mope till his tresses turn grey, 
 
 You blithe as the blithest at Buxton or Margate, 
 Shall ramble and gambol along the highway.
 
 2-23 
 
 A TRIFLING SONG, 
 
 ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY. 
 
 My pretty little Muse, 
 
 Put on your cloak and bonnet. 
 If you to ramble choose 
 
 Along with Mister Sonnet. 
 
 And if you like his plan. 
 
 Provide a pair of rifles, 
 A reticule, and /a?i— 
 
 Then fire away at — trifles ! 
 
 Your reticule's a lure 
 
 To gather game about it ; 
 Take but cool aim and sure — 
 
 You'll hit them — never doubt it.
 
 224 A TRIFLING SONG. 
 
 Your fan's a flaming dart, 
 That death around shall scatter ; 
 
 And many a wounded heart 
 Will wonder what 's the matter. 
 
 The Cockney, thus equipt, 
 With pistol, bow and arrow. 
 
 From the shop-counter slipt, 
 
 Makes war on lark and sparrow.
 
 225 
 
 A GROCER'S LIST OF GOODS, 
 
 FOR SALE IN A COUNTRY TOWN. 
 
 Ye sons of prompt payment, I pray you attend, 
 Whilst I humbly solicit your aid — 
 
 For 'tis you a Beginner can truly befriend, 
 And promote his advancement in trade. 
 
 But you, who on credit delight still to deal. 
 Who with tardy reluctance still pay, 
 
 A vast obligation to you I shall feel — 
 From my shop if ye still keep away.
 
 22(J A grocer's list of goods. 
 
 Having so much premised, I proceed now to tell 
 Tlie goods I've laid in, at low prices, to sell : 
 
 viz. 
 
 Scale sugar, lump, first, second brown. 
 None better at the price in town. 
 A neat assortment of choice tea — 
 Congo, souchong, green, and bohea. 
 Pitch, rosin, starch, soap, salt, stone-blue. 
 With indigo of deeper hue. 
 Logwood, annetto, shumach, fustic. 
 To dye the raiment of the rustic. 
 Candles I keep that burn so bright. 
 You'd think the sun had risen at night. 
 Best blister'd steel, when wanted, German — 
 Horn combs for weavers and for — vermin. 
 Frying pans, shovels, pots and griddles. 
 Tobacco, pipes, and strings for fiddles. 
 Snuff, figs, and almonds, prunes and raisins. 
 With scythes and sickles, in their seasons.
 
 A grocer's list of goods. 227 
 
 Sulphur and brimstone, that will ease 
 The keenest itch— and kill the fleas; 
 With cream of tartar, Glaubei's salts. 
 That move whate'er in stomachs halts. 
 And quickly cure, beyond all question, 
 The painful qualms of indigestion : 
 Tape, needles, thread, chalk, alum, whiting. 
 With laces, lasses' stays to tighten. 
 Inkpowder, pencils, quills and papers, 
 For scholars, clerks, and linen-drapers. 
 Bibles and psalters bound in calf, 
 And story-books to make you laugh. 
 Cards, to amuse the rural gambler. 
 Light lanterns for the nightly rambler ; 
 With sundry other things, to mention 
 Which, would exceed my list's intention ; 
 And haply, even if I told them. 
 The reader's memory would not hold them. 
 Besides his patience might grow weary. 
 When I would wish to keep it cheary. 
 
 Q2
 
 22a 
 
 THE STRATAGEM. 
 
 Young Love from his lattice look'd out. 
 As haughtily Beauty pass'd by him ; 
 
 And, though she perceiv'd him no doubt, 
 Resolv'd a fond glance to deny him. 
 
 Thinks he, I'll soon match you for this. 
 And, though his soft heart did adore her. 
 
 When back tripp'd again saucy Miss, 
 He closed up the casement before her. 
 
 The damsel, no doubt, vex'd at heart, 
 To see this strong symptom of scorning. 
 
 Changed quickly her amorous art — 
 
 She smiled, as she pass'd him next morning.
 
 221) 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF A LAND-SURVEYOR. 
 
 Poor Hal is gone Death's region to survey, 
 Wlio measured life by Folly's random chain ! 
 
 Thus many an error did his map display. 
 For pleasure was his object more than gain. 
 
 Bacchus, among the gods, was his delight, 
 And large libations oft to him he pour'd. 
 
 With Momus, too, ho spent the merry night — 
 But Venus, to idolatry, adored. 
 
 In vain Minerva sought by mild reproof, 
 Or stern rebuke, the giddy wight to win — 
 
 From Reason's sober path he kept aloof, 
 
 And laugh'd at those who lalk'd to him of sin.
 
 i>30 
 
 THE LAND WE LIVE IN. 
 
 Banish'd from earth those fiends should be. 
 
 Their foul deeds ue'er forgiven. 
 Who aim, with treacherous enmity. 
 
 To hurt — the Land they live in. 
 
 A parricide is deeiu'd the vt'orst 
 
 Of culprits under Heaven ; 
 And they are equally accurst. 
 
 That wound — the Land they live in. 
 
 No favour ev'n a foreign foe. 
 When from their country driven. 
 
 Should ever to the miscreants show, 
 That hate — the Land they live in.
 
 THE LAND WE LIVE IN. 231 
 
 Against oppression all should strive, 
 
 (As patriots oft have striven), 
 But none at wicked schemes connive, 
 
 To blast — the Land they live in. 
 
 True loyalty, like yonder oak, 
 
 By lightning scathed and riven. 
 Still sends new suckers from the stroke. 
 
 To guard — the Land we live in. 
 
 But black dishonour shall attend 
 
 Their name, whose plans contriven 
 To answer some base sordid end, 
 
 AVould crush — the Land we live in. 
 
 Our Grattan late— our Canning now, 
 
 Have bright examples given 
 Of patriotism, truth must avow. 
 
 To help — the Land we live in.
 
 232 THE LAND WE LIVE IN. 
 
 Then let all loyal subjects sing., 
 From Dingle to Dunyiven — 
 
 Success attend our noble King, 
 And bless — llie Land we live in. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 Printed by S. Gosnell, Xittle Queen Street, London.
 
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