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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 ^ & id^eU/j^ 
 
 P.J. 
 
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 V
 
 I' A liA V II KA S K 
 
 ON 
 
 THE LORD'S PRAYER; 
 
 MlSrELLANEOrS POE]\rS 
 
 III b Us ill ilcrsr. 
 
 1!V 
 
 M 7{ S. \V I N J' K H, 
 
 of Matinhir/trfifi, Essp.r. 
 
 Innhii: 
 
 J. MITCHELL, BOOKSELLEK TO IIEll ^L\JESTV, 
 3;<, OT,T) BOND STREET.
 
 LONDON : 
 Friuted by W. .1. Goi.nounN, C, Princes Street, Leicester Square.
 
 PR 
 
 Wfms 
 
 f 
 
 TO TIIK 
 
 11EV'> JAMES SALISUUKY DUNN, M.A., 
 
 INCUMBENT OF MANNINOTREK, ESSEX, 
 
 IN UUATEFUL KEMEMBRANCE OF HIS UNWEARIED KINDNESS 
 
 ON MANY IKYING OCCASIONP, 
 
 THIS LITTLE WORK IS DEDICATED, 
 
 BY THE OBLIGED AND (iltATKFUL 
 
 AUTHORESS. 
 
 Manningtkee, 
 
 December, 1852. 
 
 917?^
 
 CON T K N T 8. 
 
 I'age' 
 
 The LoKu'is Piiayeu 1 
 
 The parting year ^ 
 
 To-morrow t> 
 
 Moonlight " 
 
 The Orphan Sailor Boy S 
 
 A Soliloquy 10 
 
 Forget-me-not 11 
 
 Lean not on Earth 12 
 
 The Bee (a Fable) 13 
 
 Daylight 15 
 
 Solitude 16 
 
 Tears 17 
 
 I will never leave thee, nor forsake tlice 18 
 
 To a friend with some Pens 20 
 
 To the Nightingale 22 
 
 The Finches (a Fable) ib. 
 
 To the Butterfly 25 
 
 Butterfly and Flowers ib. 
 
 To Ellen 26 
 
 Home 27 
 
 The Lilies of the Field 29
 
 VI 
 
 Vise 
 
 What is Friendship 30 
 
 The ruins of . if>. 
 
 To the Oak 31 
 
 To the Gossamer 33 
 
 The Ants (a Fable) ib. 
 
 On a group of Rosebuds 35 
 
 Inscription for an Album ib. 
 
 The Mother's Grave 36 
 
 To a Friend 37 
 
 A Reflection 38 
 
 A Mother's Address to her Infant 39 
 
 What is Pity 40 
 
 An Elegy to Robert Bloomfield ib. 
 
 In a Lady's Album 41 
 
 The Beetles (a Fable) 42 
 
 A spray of Oak in an Album 45 
 
 Addressed to an Insect in a Nut 46 
 
 If Riches increase, set not thy Heart upon them 47 
 
 To the Skylark 48 
 
 A Question 49 
 
 To the Heartsease 50 
 
 Upon an unfortunate Poet 51 
 
 To the Butterfly 52 
 
 Starlight 53 
 
 Affection 54 
 
 Stanzas 55 
 
 To Miss 56 
 
 To the Moth 57 
 
 Lines to 58 
 
 The Tulip and Violet (a Fable) 60 
 
 Remembrance 61 
 
 To the Robin . . . • 62 
 
 A Tear 63 
 
 What is Justice 64 
 
 An Elegy . ib.
 
 SIk forb's ^rapr. 
 
 " OUR FATHER." 
 
 Yes, Our Father — heavenly name ! 
 In mercy grant that I the same 
 May with smccrity apply, 
 And breathe the hope that cannot die ; 
 Happiness — its highest state — 
 In God's celestial realms await 
 Those, who with affection sigh 
 For holy joys in courts on high. 
 
 " WHO ART IN HEAVEN." 
 
 Existing there, triumphant love 
 Endures, throughout the realms above, 
 "Where beams the sunshine of the soul. 
 Nor clouds or darkness e'er controul. 
 
 " HALLOWED BE THY NAME." 
 
 Throughout the Avorld's extensive space, 
 Permit the balm of Heavenly grace 
 To shed within the sinner's heart 
 That life, which must Thy truth impart.
 
 *' THY KINGDOM COME." 
 
 Celestial gem ; ah ! welcome here, 
 And dwell -within my mortal sphere ; 
 Peace ! all conquering peace reside, 
 AVith olive-branch subdue the pride, 
 In-dweUmg pride, that source of ill, 
 AVhich struggles hard till life stands still. 
 Come, gentle dove, my soul subdue, 
 Till endless life is -wrapped in you. 
 
 "thy -will be done." 
 
 Father, with hand omnipotent 
 Thou mad'st my stubborn heart repent ; 
 " Thy will" tremendous was thy law. 
 Till faith bright hope and beauty saw. 
 Now let in sweet response be s\mg,' 
 Thy gracious heavenly will be done ; 
 For all perfection comes from Thee, 
 Thou great Eternal — one in three ! 
 
 "ox EARTH." 
 
 Throughout this wilderness of W'Oe, 
 Oh ! let kind peace and mercy flow ; 
 Let love's bright banner be unfurl 'd. 
 To reconcile a rebel world. 
 
 "as it is," etc. 
 " As it is in Heaven," bliss serene, 
 Let seraphs Avalk this world terrene ; 
 But hush ! my so\il, the scene's delayed 
 Till brighter prospects are displayed. 
 
 " GIVE us THIS DAY, OUH DAILY BKEAD." 
 
 'Tis not alone the bread of earth, 
 For that alone would prove a dearth ; 
 It is the spirit's quick'niiig ray, 
 Sustains the soul from day to day.
 
 Yes, pardon, Lord, we crave of Thee, 
 Thou holy, just, Almighty three ! 
 Our sins arc dark in deepest dye, 
 For mercy. Lord, we kneel, we cry. 
 
 "as we rOUOIVE THEM," KTC. 
 
 All 1 let me ask my soul at night. 
 Do I grant pardon with delight 
 To those who wound my soul by day ; 
 Do I for their salvation pray ? 
 
 " AND LEAD I'S NOT INTO TEMPTATION.' 
 
 Lord, thou wilt conduct his steps aright, 
 Who walks by faith and not by sight ; 
 Send, when temptations hard assail, 
 1 hy grace and mercy to prevail. 
 When the great sinner loud does roar, 
 Hurling his darts at life's frail door ; 
 When his malignant passion, Death, 
 Pours all the fury of his breath, 
 Hope fills the soul with love divmc, 
 And faith pronounces, Christ is mine ! 
 
 " BUT DEI.IVF.i: us FROM EVIL." 
 
 From evils of a sinful heart, 
 
 From sin's great tyrannizing part, 
 
 From hellish foes that will assail, 
 
 From the vain world that would prevail, 
 
 Deliver me. 
 
 Thy chosen race, whose love is pure. 
 
 Protect them, while they must endure.
 
 "for thine is the kingdom." 
 
 Thither bound by Christ's bright love, 
 The soul oft feels the heavenly dove, 
 And while experience points the way, 
 Faith whispers some heart-cheering lay, 
 A kingdom where no sin is known, 
 No demon spirit to bemoan, 
 No sorrow, sickness— there the soul. 
 But beams of love surrormd the whole. 
 
 AND THE POWER AND THE GLORY." 
 
 The power that raised from chaos drear 
 This wondrous world, its atmosphere ; 
 That made stupendous planets roll, 
 And breathed in man a living soul. 
 Infinity ! eternity ! Omnipotent thy sway, 
 The sovereign ruler, whereso'er we stray, 
 And when imagination soars on high, 
 Pervades all space, approach the nether sky ; 
 There power, there glory, envelope the whole. 
 But fading worlds can ne'er redeem a soul I 
 
 " FOR EVER AND EVER." 
 
 Endless durability I ah ! solemn sound. 
 In pain or bliss the vital spark is found ; 
 Momentary shadows breathing life's dull day, 
 Inherent vice and passions lead the way. 
 Reign in the human breast till Heaven's love 
 Calms the sad storm, and guides to realms above ; 
 Grant hope, faith, peace within to dwell. 
 And shake the power of all contending hell ! 
 
 Amen.
 
 £^c llitrting llcar. 
 
 Year, I bid thee adieu with a sigh of regret — 
 Nay, a tear on my eyelid is lingering yet, 
 When I think on the portion of time thou hast lent, 
 Too heedlessly squandered, alas ! or mis-spent. 
 
 I liailed thee in sorrow, in sadness and gloom. 
 Death threat'ning to bear to the dreary dark tomb 
 A pledge of affection, whose innocent smile 
 Could solace affliction, and sorrow beguile. 
 
 In thy sojourn thou broughtost me pleasure and pain, 
 Which have passed as a shadow ; no relics remain. 
 Save those which are graven on Memory's page. 
 To brighten or darken the lamp of old age. 
 
 No band has been broken by Death's chilly sway ; 
 No blossom of friendship has faded away. 
 Canst thou tell me. Old Year, what my feelings may be, 
 When thy blooming successor is hoary like thee ? 
 
 Perchance a black cloud may hang over me now. 
 Surcharged with misfortune, affliction and woe : 
 The dart may be pointed, and aimed at my peace. 
 And the reign of contentment and comfort may cease. 
 
 If so, may I kiss with submission the rod. 
 And bend every wish to the will of my God ; 
 Looking forward with hope, when my sojourn shidl close, 
 To share in the promises granted to those, 
 
 "Who, humble and patient, submissive and just. 
 In perils and dangers resigned, ever trust. 
 That the period allotted on earth's troubled sphere, 
 Shall conclude in a blissful, ne'er ending New Year.
 
 Si0-m0rrofa. 
 
 What extatic delight does the youthful mind borrow 
 From the promise, the hope, the thought of to-morrow ! 
 That season of bliss, which bright fancy pourtrays 
 As the best, and the brightest, and gayest of days. 
 
 Unclouded by sickness, or sadness, or care, 
 Disappointment or discord, regret or despair. 
 When happiness, peace and security reign, 
 And prosperity binds in her roseate chain. 
 
 Ah ! hopes of to-morrow ! how oft have we known 
 A gloomy reverse thy presence has shown ; 
 Thy vot'ries' bright visions have vanished in air. 
 And hurled from thy summit to depths of despair. 
 
 Thy promise to-morrow, alas ! has been broken ; 
 To many thou givest the bitterest token. 
 How happy ! thrice happy ! the much-favour'd few 
 "Who ne'er were deceived or deluded bj' you. 
 
 But dear is the thought to the sorrowing breast, 
 To-morrow will be a sweet sabbath of rest ; 
 To-morrow this sorrowful journey will close ; 
 To-morrow will bring sweet relief for my woes ; 
 
 To-morrow my spirit will wmg its gay flight, 
 From the shadows of earth to the regions of light ; 
 To-morrow, though friendship may weep for my doom, 
 And my dust be consigned with regret to the tomb. 
 
 Thrice welcome the thought that my sufferings cease. 
 That pain is succeeded by pardon and peace ; 
 Untroubled, unfading, unniingl'd with sorrow, 
 A long and delightful unchanging To-morrow.
 
 Poonligjjt. 
 
 Yes, well I know the magic power 
 That waits on twilight's social hour ; 
 
 And love, its fairy spell, 
 liack glancing memory brings to view 
 The happy group— the chosen few — 
 Which fond esteem together drew, 
 
 The pleasing tale to tell. 
 
 Still, dear to me is twilight grey, 
 Wliich you, my friend, so well pourtray, 
 
 So fanciful, so true. 
 Hut there's an hour which I prefer, 
 With love or friendship to confer, 
 
 Which I'll describe to you. 
 
 ' I'is autumn's midnight, moonlight hour, 
 Which has with mu the magic power 
 
 To bid all trouble cease ; 
 Recall my wand'ring thoughts, which may 
 Throughout the busy worldly day 
 Have been usurped by passion's sway, 
 And tune my mind to jjeace. 
 
 I love to see the shadows fall 
 
 On turret, tower, or mouldering wall. 
 
 On church, on lake, or tree ; 
 Upon the white, sepulchral stone, 
 The blighted elm, that lingers lone 
 Near yon majestic ruins, known 
 
 An abbey once to be.
 
 8 
 
 At such an hour, I love to tread 
 The precincts of the noiseless dead, 
 
 And meditate on those 
 Who lov'd me well, who taught my mind 
 A better resting-place to find 
 
 Than time and sense disclose. 
 
 At such an hour I've look'd to heaven, 
 And thought, that were permission given 
 
 To leave the courts of bliss 
 On missions of good^vill to men. 
 Beyond our frail and feeble ken. 
 The time would be no other than 
 
 So sweet an hoiu: as this. 
 
 k @ralj;iit Sailor ¥ioit. 
 
 My father died some years ago. 
 To dire disease and grief a prey ; 
 
 My mother's heart, surcharged with Avoe, 
 Was broken on that very day. 
 
 Oh ! ne'er shall I forget the hour, 
 
 Bereft of every earthly joy. 
 She trusted tlie Almiglity power 
 
 Would shield her hapless oq^han boy.
 
 The parish poor-liouse now my home, 
 No father's kiss to warm my dicek, 
 
 No mother's smile to cheer my gloom, 
 I felt as if my heart would break. 
 
 Six years passed by, and I was sent 
 On board a ship, to me what joy : 
 
 The captain of the ' Good Intent' 
 Smiled kindly on the orphan boy. 
 
 The bright tear glistened in his eye ; 
 
 And when my bitter tale was done, 
 Be good, be brave, was his reply. 
 
 And you shall henceforth be my son. 
 
 Time seemed to fly on gladsome wing. 
 No care nor trouble to aimoy ; 
 
 And joyful as the bird of Spring 
 Was now the Orphan Sailor Boy. 
 
 This blissful period soon was o'er ; 
 
 The winds contended with the waves. 
 Our vessel foundered near the shore. 
 
 And all but me found watery graves. 
 
 Himgry, weary, bruised and sad, 
 I've wandered many a tedious mile ; 
 
 I've nought on earth to make me glad, 
 And none to cheer me with a smile. 
 
 O, give the pittance you can spare. 
 And find me, if you can, employ ; 
 
 Think on the ills I'm doomed to bear, 
 A shipwrecked Orphan Sailor Boy.
 
 10 
 
 %■ Soliloqini 
 
 To love, or not to love, that is the question. 
 Whether 'tis best to guard one's heart against its 
 Soft allurements, and look on all alilje ? or 
 Choose some Avorthy object to adniire, respect, 
 Esteem, to love : perchance Avithout return ? 
 Aye, there's the rub ; for then, alas ! what woes 
 Must come. For who could bear the cold, averted 
 Look, the stiff deportment, and a rival's scorn ? 
 To love, to meet return, is happiness complete. 
 Ambition, avarice, envy, have these no power 
 To mar the lover's bliss ; to cloud each pleasing 
 Prospect ; to cause the heart-ache, and the num'rous 
 Pangs that love is heir to ? But grant them here 
 No place ; grant too a mutual love, by mutual 
 Friends applauded, an equal fortune, and 
 Exalted minds. Still happiness is doubtful : 
 Jealousy (that hydra-headed monster), 
 Created by " some trifle light as air," 
 But to its hapless vot'ry confirmation 
 Strong as proof of holy writ, destroys the 
 Mutual confidence. Susjiicion and 
 Distrust, anxieties and doubts fill up 
 The measure of disquietudes, and make 
 Calamity of love. 
 
 Exclude the monster hence. See absence. 
 Sickness, death, the lover's foes, in league against 
 Him. Can those in love be happy ? surely not. 
 With these attending ills — and that these ills 
 Attend, experience, uninfluenced and sufl'er'd 
 To speak out, do plainly tell us. No more, 
 I'm weary of conjectures ; this must end them : 
 Indiflcrcnce is best.
 
 11 
 
 f orqct-iiu-not. 
 
 Compelled to quit my peaceful home, 
 My woodbine bower, my humble cot, 
 
 Uncertain of my fate to come, 
 I'll gather thee, Forget-me-not. 
 
 Here in my bosom thou shalt bide. 
 Where'er I go, whatc'cr my lot ; 
 
 Whatever evil may betide, 
 I'll cherish thee. Forget-me-not ; 
 
 For thou wilt tell of days gone past, 
 When, wild and free, I heeded not, 
 
 That days like those not long can last, 
 Such days proclaim, Forget-me-not. 
 
 Thou'lt mind me of the parting tear, 
 A mother's blessing on my lot. 
 
 Of home, of kindred friends so dear, 
 Thou'lt mind me oft. Forget-me-not. 
 
 One parting look, one long adieu. 
 Farewell, thou fairest, dearest spot ; 
 
 May time restore me back to you, 
 And those who will Forget-me-not.
 
 12 
 
 Itaii not on (iSitrtl;. 
 
 Oh ! lean not on earth for its riches and power, 
 Take the wings of the morning, and hasten away ; 
 
 Oh ! lean not on friendship, it fades in an hour, 
 And its blossoms of beauty make haste to decay. 
 
 Oh ! lean not on health, 'tis the dew of the morning, 
 A meteor, a shadow that tarrieth not ; 
 
 Oh ! lean not on beauty, fi-ail nature adorning, 
 It fades and is gone, and remembered not. 
 
 Oh ! lean not on vows of unchangeable love, 
 Or unfading affection, the poet's vain theme ; 
 
 Oh ! lean not on man, for his favour will prove 
 At best but deceptive, or only a dream. 
 
 Oh ! lean not on earth, it has nought to bestow 
 But sorrow, vexation, detraction and sin ; 
 
 Oh ! lean not on earth, for too surely, I know, 
 'Twill pierce the fond heart that contideth therein. 
 
 But lean on that Saviour whose word cannot fail 
 To comfort the weary, to strengthen the weak ; 
 
 Oh ! lean on his mercy, and peace will prevail. 
 Which earth has not power to diminish or break.
 
 i;j 
 
 (a fable.) 
 
 I DO think it hard, said a vain little bee, 
 To be doomed to a life of such labour and toil, 
 
 When so many insects around me I see, 
 
 Who have nothing to do but to revel and spoil. 
 
 In that elegant web see the spider reposing, 
 By ZephjT's soft wing gently rocking asleep : 
 
 Pray why may not I he as peacefully dozing, 
 Instead of thus toilmg to add to the heap r 
 
 See, the earwig walks out to enjoy the sun's ray, 
 
 A gentleman truly, without occupation : 
 How proudly the creature proceeds on his way, 
 
 To rest his fine limbs on that lovely carnation. 
 
 The happy grasshopper has nothing to do, 
 
 So he's frisking and singing from morning to night ; 
 
 And the gnat's merry dance with displeasure I view, 
 For my life is a season of drudgery quite : 
 
 Besides, they look down upon me with disdain, 
 
 A being too humble to merit regard ; 
 I'm determined no longer such ills to sustain, 
 
 And to live without labour. It must be absurd 
 
 For me to be toiling the whole summer through. 
 Collecting from flowerets for many miles round, 
 
 To be out ere the sun has dispersed the light dew. 
 
 And returning when night draws her mantle profound,
 
 14 
 
 With a bag full of honey, or laden "with wax, 
 To add to the plenty we have in our hive : 
 
 I'm resolved, as I said, from this toil to relax, 
 'Twere almost as well to be buried alive. 
 
 I shall now flj' about, as it suits me, for pleasure, 
 And live like my neighbours, who, when they shall see 
 
 I am quite independent, have plenty of leisure. 
 Of course will pay court to a well-mformed bee. 
 
 So this silly young creature set uj) for a beau, 
 And prided himself on his wise resolution. 
 
 Looking do-wn with contempt on his brethren, I know, 
 Wlio had too much good sense to draw such a conclusion. 
 
 He sported about in the sun's cheering ray, 
 And wasted long days with the idlers he met ; 
 
 But winter siicceeded to summer's warm day, 
 And his svm of prosperity gloomily set. 
 
 The frost came, and cropp'd all the beautiful flowers. 
 The bitter winds chilled hun ; and, starving and cold, 
 
 He crept into one of his late verdant bowers, 
 
 And stretched himself out on the chilly damp mould. 
 
 Ah ! fool that I was, he exclaimed, to repine 
 
 At the prudence which taught me to toil for my bread : 
 
 Take warning, my friends, by a folly lilie mine, 
 I have nought to subsist on, and soon shall be dead. 
 
 Oh ! had I but done as my kindred advised, 
 I now had been happy, contented and good. 
 
 Much better — the course that I lately despised — 
 My conscience upbraids me : 'tis proper it should. 
 
 He cast his eyes roimd on the desolate waste. 
 No parent nor brother appeared to his view ; 
 
 And while his weak i)ulses are beating their last, 
 I have taken a sketch of his story for you.
 
 15 
 
 nanliqljt. 
 
 How truly delightful, when mornin^jf is breaking, 
 Refreshed by the dew-drops perfumed by the spring, 
 
 The lark's early matin, aii's tenants awaking 
 To join in gay chorus, and soar on light wing. 
 
 I love the pure feeling the bosom pervading, 
 
 Thus seeing creation receive a new life, 
 Night's mantle of darkness and dreariness fading, 
 
 Xo sound of rude mirth, noisy clamour, or strife ; 
 
 No sound save of birds, or the sheep's cheerful bleating, 
 The fold's tinkling bell, or the kine's welcome lowing. 
 
 The shepherd's soft whistle, his fleecy charge greeting, 
 His heart with warm feelings of extacy glowing. 
 
 I love to behold the bright sun slowly darting 
 
 His beams of bright splendour on mountain and tree ; 
 
 Mist, vapour and fog from his presence departing — 
 How sweet is the breaking of morning to me. 
 
 How oft have I fancied when pensively straying. 
 An Omnipotent power in his works to descry. 
 
 That the garden of Eden, each beauty displaying, 
 Thus broke upon Adam's enraptured eye. 
 
 And thus, when the Archangel's trumpet awaking 
 Tlie tenants of earth from the sleep of the tomb, 
 
 The beauties of morning on them will be breaking. 
 Whose bright su:i disperses sin, sorrow and gloom.
 
 16 
 
 Snlitiih. 
 
 Calm solitude, the poet's theme, 
 
 How sweet with thee to muse or dream, 
 
 In fairy fancy's magic bower, 
 
 O'er many a past or future hour, 
 
 In tranquil ease on pleasures past, 
 
 Or bliss too exquisite to last ; 
 
 Dress future scenes in colours gay, 
 
 And hold a mental holiday ; 
 
 But let not him whom cares oppress. 
 
 Or pangs of blighted happiness, 
 
 Or conscious guilt, or frailty weak, 
 
 Thy pensive presence ever seek. 
 
 Though sweet it is to shun the eye 
 
 Of prying curiosity, 
 
 The sneers, the scoffs, the pity vain, 
 
 The comfort of the clam'rous train. 
 
 Yet let the hapless one beware. 
 
 Lest these should lead to dark despair. 
 
 Thou canst not cure the aching heart. 
 
 Thou canst not draw affliction's dart ; 
 
 Thou canst not soften pain to ease, 
 
 Or make despair or madness cease ; 
 
 For busy memory will intrude. 
 
 And conscience with her terrors rude ; 
 
 And care corrode and thought annoy, 
 
 And woe o'erwhelm and pain destroy ; 
 
 But let him in retirement seek. 
 
 One firm and faithful friend to meet, 
 
 One who has known the ills of life. 
 
 And learnt to brave its jarring strife.
 
 17 
 
 To curb each wayward passion's sway, 
 And look beyond life's passing day, 
 He will thy tale of sorrow hear, 
 Will shed the sympathetic tear ; 
 Kid thee at least of half thy care, 
 And teach thee patiently to bear 
 Of human ills thy 'lotted share ; 
 Shun noisy mirth and clamour rude, 
 liut seek not lonely solitude, 
 Unless bright hope is hov'ring nigh, 
 And peace and calm tranquillity. 
 And contemplation's holy pow'r, 
 Then, then thou may'st, at ev'ning hour, 
 Gq seek the calm scquester'd scene. 
 Far from the world's discordant din ; 
 There commune with thyself, and see 
 The wonders of the Deity ; 
 Scan Nature's splendid volume o'er, 
 Read, maik, learn, wonder and adore. 
 
 (lb cars. 
 
 When admonition's warning voice 
 Checks folly in its wild career. 
 
 And true repentance is our choice, 
 We shed the penitential tear. 
 
 When tales of sorrow melt the heart, 
 When virtue's path is dark and drear, 
 
 When worth declines beneath the smart. 
 We shed the sympathetic tear.
 
 18 
 
 When Providence, all wise and kind, 
 Our dearest wishes grants us here, 
 
 Our thanks by language unconfined, 
 Speaks plainer in the Grateful Tear. 
 
 When dire misfortune lowers 'round, 
 And poverty and want are near. 
 
 How often have tlie wretched found 
 Sweet solace in the pitying tear. 
 
 When orphan's prayer or Avidow's sigh 
 Attracts our gracious monarch's ear, 
 
 Is all the pomp of majesty 
 So graceful as a monarch's tear ? 
 
 When death with sure, unerring aim 
 Consigns us to the funeral bier, 
 
 'Tis then fi'om dearest friends we claim 
 The passing tribute of a tear. 
 
 3 mill iirnrr \nm Wjn, iinr fnrsnkc tljrr. 
 
 When life's begun, that tender age 
 When thought nor care the soul engage, 
 When weakness all our steps betray, 
 A friend divine illumes the way. 
 
 When buoyant spirits lead our youth. 
 The world assumes the garb of truth. 
 Or fancy's visions bright pourtray 
 Deceptive scenes, he'll never straj'. 
 
 When manhood's prime, in strength arrayed, 
 And wealth unbounded is displayed, 
 When fortune, honour, station, fame 
 Surround, that friend is still the same.
 
 19 
 
 When in the nuptial bind of love 
 Ennobled souls affection prove, 
 While travelling thro' a desert wild, 
 That friend will ne'er forget his child. 
 
 When sickness, sadness, sorrow call, 
 Trials o'ercloud (the lot of all). 
 When riches wing a sudden flight. 
 That friend a gleam of hi)i)c will light. 
 
 When clouds are dark, and waters deep. 
 No pitying hand to yield relief, 
 With outward foes, and Inward sin. 
 That friend conducts us safe within. 
 
 liight onward in the narrow road 
 That leads to virtue's blest abode, 
 In accent soft, he can controul 
 The boisterous trouble of the soul. 
 
 AVhcn on affliction's couch we lav, 
 And sinews weak approach decay. 
 How bright the promise does appear, 
 I never will forsake thee here. 
 
 He whose promises are ever sure. 
 He who supports, while we endure ; 
 On him who never will forsake. 
 We trust, for freedom from the lake : 
 
 That lake where never ending sorrow 
 Admits no ray of light to-morrjw. 
 Where darkness reigns, where horrors dwell. 
 That dread abyss, the gulph of hell. 
 
 When hoary time has made us grey. 
 Or life's bright crimson slowly play. 
 When vigour sinks beneath the sun. 
 And life's great iight is nearly done ;
 
 20 
 
 When death o'ertakes, with keen-edg'd dart, 
 To chill the current of the heart. 
 To steal the trembling soul away 
 From earth, to realms of endless day, 
 
 Hope fills the soul, seraphic joy 
 O'ercomes the spirit, which alloy 
 Too oft had dimm'd its lustre bright, 
 Till faith disclos'd celestial light. 
 
 Now bursts from night to heavenly day, 
 The unclogg'd spirit flies away 
 To endless scenes, ne'er dying love. 
 In realms where reierns its friend above. 
 
 (E'n II /rifiiii luitlj mm ]k\\s. 
 
 These Pens, for varied tasks design'd. 
 Dear friend, I've made for you ; 
 
 "Well ordered, as I hope you'll find, 
 For subject old or new. 
 
 See, one to censure pride of heart, 
 
 Conceit and affectation ; 
 The base, ignoble double part, 
 
 Parade and ostentation. 
 
 A fine and clear transparent quill 
 
 You have in this selection, 
 The sacred duties to fulfil 
 
 Of friendship or affection.
 
 21 
 
 One to politeness dedicate, 
 
 Inquiries, invitation ; 
 Another, solely to translate 
 
 'ITie muses' inspiration- 
 
 To one the miglity task assign. 
 Of scandal, news and dress ; 
 
 And one of more ignoble kind, 
 Will serve for business. 
 
 One, bright and clear, I dedicate 
 At friendship's sacred shrine ; 
 
 The charm that does in youth elate. 
 And cheer in life's decline. 
 
 A softer yet— nay, do not frown, 
 
 A tell-tale it may prove ; 
 "Its ruggedness I've soften'd down 
 
 For eloquence in love. 
 
 One quite as soft to supplicate, 
 A boon for those who languish 
 
 On beds of sickness, or relate 
 The tale of mental anguish. 
 
 But one I've chosen out with care, 
 
 And pointed up for satire ; 
 Use this with caution, and beware 
 
 Of malice or ill-nature. 
 
 Ah ! here, methinks, I've acted wrong, 
 
 Alas ! unlucky elf ! 
 This very pen, perchance, ere long. 
 
 May turn against myself. 
 
 If such misfortune should befall, 
 
 I'll quickly call a truce. 
 Nor fight with weapons steep'd in gall. 
 
 Or acrid lemon juice.
 
 22 
 
 €n tljr Digjitingnh. 
 
 Sweet Philomel, I listen, with, feelings half divme, 
 
 To those varied tuneful mellow notes of thine ; 
 
 When Luna, with her silver bow, mild radiance sheds around, 
 
 And glow-worms, with their fairy lamps, illumine all the ground. 
 
 "WTien echo seems to sleep, and the busy hum of men 
 
 Is wrapp'd in stilly silence by upland, wood and glen ; 
 
 My heart, with rapture thrilling, in extacy replies 
 
 To thy notes of matchless sweetness, and converse with the skies. 
 
 U ■ — ' J 
 
 (a fable.) 
 
 It happen' d once, but when or where 
 'Tis of no moment to declare ; 
 A matron Finch, with daughters three, 
 Lived in a lovely apple tree. 
 Mamma was rather past her prime, 
 But reckon'd handsome in her time. 
 And with good manners and pretence, 
 Became a Finch of consequence ; 
 Till death dcpriv'd her of her mate. 
 And threw a shadow o'er her fate ; 
 Though, with her cutting and contriving. 
 Her circimistances still were thriving. 
 Miss Finches — pretty forward birds — 
 Had long been courting the regards
 
 2:\ 
 
 Of every bachelor or beau, 
 
 Or widower, they chanced to know. 
 
 AVilh.)ut success each art was jjarried, 
 
 They were not likely to be married. 
 
 It happen'd on a winter's day, 
 
 Wlien Sol put forth a cheering ray, 
 
 A kindred Finch some distance came, 
 
 To pay a visit to the dame, 
 
 A brisk good humour'd lively creature, 
 
 "With ebon poll, an d striking feature. 
 
 Dear me ! what graced and what fluttering, 
 
 Contrivance, .stratagem and stuttering — 
 
 Our hero found a general plan 
 
 Was laid his freedom to trepan ; 
 
 Mamma's broad hints, thrown out in dozens, 
 
 Her praises of his lovely cousins, 
 
 Inforni'd him she had no objection — 
 
 Nay, would approve of his selection^ 
 
 Indeed, she soon began to sing, 
 
 My chick-a-bids, 'tis almost spring ; 
 
 Your worth and beauty are confess'd, 
 
 I've taught you how to build a nest. 
 
 You all support your.-clves, I own, 
 
 But 'tis not good to peck alone ; 
 
 So choose ye each a proper mate. 
 
 And enter on the nuptial state. 
 
 The pretty dears began to sidle. 
 
 To sigh, to chirrup, and to twidle ; 
 
 Each prais'd her cousin's courtly air, 
 
 His graceful mien, his modest stare — 
 
 Admired his plumage and his carriage, 
 
 Enquired his sentiments of marriage ; 
 
 Sung him, unask'd, his favourite ditties, 
 
 Conversed of woodlands, groves and cities ; 
 
 Provided most delicious fare. 
 
 And filled his crop with berries rare.
 
 24 
 
 Dick felt annoy'd at such attention, 
 
 But what he thought he did not mention ; 
 
 'Tis true he had his share of pride, 
 
 But here it was not gratified, 
 
 For he, sagacious Dick, perceiv'd 
 
 What some weak heads have not believed : 
 
 That 'twas not him the chicks preferr'd 
 
 To any other courtly bii'd ; 
 
 So ere he took his farewell flight, 
 
 The note subjoin'd he chose to write. 
 
 " Dear Aunt, 
 
 I am troubled and perplexed ; 
 To tell the truth, I'm downright vex'd 
 To find yourself and daughters three, 
 In coquetting so Avell agree. 
 I cannot wed a forward chick, 
 Tlie thought disgusts, and turns me sick ; 
 I thank you all, for your regards. 
 And hope you'll meet with other birds, 
 Who, less fastidious than mo. 
 In all your projects can agree ; 
 But pray remember, very few 
 Approve the plans pursued by you. 
 We love a conduct modest, good. 
 To woo, dear auut, and not be woo'd. 
 Forgive my freedom — pardon quick, 
 Your wild, ungrateful nephew, 
 
 «' Dick."
 
 25 
 
 Pause, reader, and this insect scan — 
 
 Behold a vivid type of man ; 
 
 First a worm of mortal birth, 
 
 Spending his little day on earth. 
 
 Then consigned — 'tis nature's doom — 
 
 To rest witliin the silent tomb ; 
 
 Thence to rise u\ glory bright, 
 
 Freed from sin and sorrow's blight 
 
 What wond'rous love, what mighty power, 
 
 Read, mark, learn, wonder and adore. 
 
 •5rriirntli n frnuiiiig uf a i'iitfrrfii[ ul /iDuirrs. 
 
 Brauteovs Butterfly and Flowers, 
 Companions of the sunny hours, 
 Lend a subject for mj' muse. 
 And thine own harmony infuse. 
 
 What is childhood's joyous day ? 
 What are youthful visions gay ? 
 What are manhood's boasted powers ? 
 Only butterfliis and flowers. 
 
 What is health, with rosy smile ? 
 What is beauty's witching wile ? 
 What is strength in conquest's hours ? 
 Only butterflies and flowers. 
 
 What is pleasure, wild and free ? 
 What is gay prosperity ? 
 What are spring and summer hours ? 
 Only butterflies and flowers.
 
 26 
 
 ®o (t\U\i 
 
 Since, Ellen, you propose a theme, 
 
 I've not the least objection, 
 For one whom I so much esteem, 
 
 To write upon affection. 
 
 To you, who feel its magic charm. 
 
 And live by its direction, 
 My grave remarks may cause alarm, 
 
 In favour of affection. 
 
 Bright, pure, unclouded and serene, 
 
 It braves a close inspection ; 
 IIow dreary were life's chequer'd scene, 
 
 Unblest by fond affection. 
 
 And start not, Ellen, when I say, 
 That many a bright complexion 
 
 Has met a premature decay, 
 From ill repaid affection. 
 
 How bitter is the pensive sigh 
 
 Occasioned by reflection, 
 "When death has clos'd the gpeaking eye. 
 
 That hailed us Avith affection. 
 
 And bitter is the conscious fear 
 
 That startles at detection ; 
 But bitter, bitter is the tear, 
 
 That falls for lost affection.
 
 omc. 
 
 How tlic lieart dances, and the speaking eye, 
 
 Lit up with soft emotion at the magic sound, 
 
 Sparkles with extacy and love ; oh ! 
 
 What a chord is touched, as memory traces true 
 
 The by-gone liours of happy childhood, 
 
 When, seated on a parent's knee, we learned 
 
 The Alphabet — prodigious task ! 
 
 And lisped our Evening Prayer : 
 
 Ah ! who can e'er forget the fond maternal kiss ; 
 
 The soft good-night, repeated once, twice, thrice. 
 
 And scaled how oft with pure affection's pearly tear ? 
 
 Who ere has found upon this world's wide stage 
 
 Such fairj- scenes, such faithful friends, such happy hours. 
 
 Such peaceful slumbers, and such magic dreams. 
 
 As Home ! sweet Home I possesses and inspires ? 
 
 Where can the repentant prodigal retreat 
 
 From insincerity, neglect and scorn, 
 
 Save to that roof where the gay dawn of life began. 
 
 Watched by that maternal eye, which now o'crflows 
 
 With tears of mingled bitterness and joy ? 
 
 And whither, let me ask, can the fair penitent — 
 
 Victim of broken vows, ill-placed affection. 
 
 And too easy faith — seek shelter from the 'whelming storms, 
 
 That gathering dire, are biirstmg o'er her undefended 
 
 And devoted head ? where will she find, 
 
 Save in that home, which in a fatal hour 
 
 She left, but not unmindful of the sad return 
 
 For anxious care and fond solicitude ; 
 
 But, hurried on by heedless passion 
 
 To the dreadful gulph, reflection came too late ;
 
 28 
 
 The pitying tear, the kind embrace, the cordial welcome, 
 
 And oh I far more than all, forgiveness for the past ; 
 
 And help and guidance to that gracious power, 
 
 "Who doubtless will accept the contrite spirit 
 
 And the broken heart. 
 
 What, save the thought of home, could cheer the drooping spirit 
 
 And fainting step of weary pilgrim pacing slow, 
 
 Footfoundered and alone, the long, long, dreary 
 
 And benighted way ? 
 
 The shipwrecked sailor, too, inspired with energies unwonted. 
 
 Combatting the mountain billows, holds with death 
 
 A long and sturdy conflict, till, subdued, 
 
 He sinks to rise no more, with prayers 
 
 And blessings faltering on his tongue, for home, 
 
 His wife and little ones. 
 
 How I love to trace the scenes of bygone hours. 
 
 The fields, the meadows and the lanes. 
 
 Where oft, in childhood's happy spring, with loved 
 
 Companions, young and joyous as myself, alas ! 
 
 Now far dispersed, have trod theh- verdant paths, 
 
 Seeking wild flowers — violet, daisy and forget-me-not. 
 
 Affection's off'ering to some valued friend. 
 
 How oft beneath that well-remembered tree. 
 
 Whose every leaf to me seems fraught with pleasing 
 
 E.ecord of my childish days — here oft have 
 
 I sought shelter from the noonday sun. 
 
 And here, too, watched his evening beams decline ; 
 
 Eut with these recollections comes the thought 
 
 Of her, how truly dear, whom I had hoped 
 
 To welcome to my own glad home, and with 
 
 Jly children share her all of earthly love ; 
 
 But she is gone, and found a home in heaven, 
 
 Leaving me a bright example, and an aching heart.
 
 «» 
 
 %t\]M tjjr lilifs of tljc .iPirU. 
 
 Study tho lilies of the field : 
 
 They toil not, neither do they spui ; 
 
 Yet pure and grateful fragrance yield, 
 Remote from folly, noise and din. 
 
 Seeking the cool sequester'd shade, 
 Impervious to the careless eye. 
 
 To bud, to blossom and to fade. 
 Unmarked by heedless passers-by. 
 
 Just so tlic Christian holds his way. 
 Unknown, unnoticed, or forgot ; 
 
 But, cheer' d by faith's unfading ray, 
 How peaceful is his chequered lot ! 
 
 Mild, unassuming, tranquil, meek. 
 
 Retiring from a sinful world, 
 A 'jctter dwelling-place to seek, 
 
 Where mevcy's banner is unfurl'd. 
 
 How sweet the odours which arise 
 Around the altar of his home ! 
 
 How few, alas ! who justly prize 
 The pilgrim's path to worlds to come !
 
 30 
 
 i^ljnt is /rirnhsljiii 
 
 Is friendship professions from one who pretends 
 
 To be yastly your friend for his own private ends ; 
 
 The flattery of sycophants, hoping to find 
 
 Your failmgs or foibles have rendered you blind ; 
 
 The applause of a person who borrows your pelf, 
 
 Ne'er intending to pay, but who pities the elf; 
 
 The offer of service from those who contrive. 
 
 From your passive good-nature to make their schemes thrive ; 
 
 Shaking hands when the fingers recoil from the touch, 
 
 A formal adieu, when a sigh is too much ; 
 
 The kiss coldly given, aflection to show ; 
 
 The courtesy all grace, the short How d'ye do ? 
 
 A thump on the shoulder, which causes a pain, 
 
 Quite as much as your temper knows how to sustain : 
 
 The familiar address, tears ready to start. 
 
 While hatred and malice preside in the heart. 
 
 '^t Ivuiiin nf 
 
 Hauk ! how the wind whistles throughout this old pile, 
 Where the owlet and bat find a shelter secure, 
 
 And reptiles so loathsome, weeds noisome and vile, 
 Here revel in safety, and flourish impure. 
 
 Superstition avoids it with horror and dread, 
 Tradition fell deeds of foul murder repeat, 
 
 And ghosts of the victims arise from the dead. 
 And wander at midnight, pale Luna to greet.
 
 M 
 
 Yet once on :i time architccturiil state 
 
 Adorned those old ruins with grandeur and pride, 
 Look'd around on its beauties with richei elutc, 
 
 And mocked lowly merit, and succour denied. 
 
 To the child of misfortune, who craved it in vain 
 From the lord of the ca-^tle, wh", frowning severe, 
 
 Forbade the approach of a suppliant train, 
 And chilled even hope liy a mandate austere. 
 
 Then music and revelry echoed along 
 
 These halls and those passages, g(jne to decay ; 
 
 The chivalrous knights and the warrior throng, 
 Like a tale that is told, have all vanish'd away. 
 
 Nor beauty, nor riches, nor power can lasrt 
 Beyond the short limit allow'd to their span ; 
 
 And time, with his scythe, hurries onward so fast, 
 That life is a shadow, and just so is man. 
 
 £a tljc &± 
 
 Of all the beauteous trees that grace 
 Old Albion's lov'd and sea-girt isle. 
 
 The oak must claim a premier place, 
 Though modern taste and pride revile. 
 
 Our rude forefathers knew its worth, 
 Its fruits supplied a banquet then, 
 
 Its leaves a couch outspread on earth, 
 In some sequestered copse or glen.
 
 32 
 
 When wild rebellion lawless rose, 
 
 And drove a monarch from his throne, 
 
 The oak secur'd from ruthless foes, 
 
 When friends and fortune left him lone. 
 
 Old England's far-famed wooden walls 
 Are formed from this majestic tree, 
 
 And when the voice of duty calls, 
 True hearts of oak, ungalled and free, 
 
 Are ever found, to guard our coast 
 From bold usurper's tyrant sway ; 
 
 And many a British tongue may boast 
 That oak will shroud his mould'rlng clay. 
 
 Braving the wild and howling blast, 
 Unbending in the wintry storm, 
 
 Yielding to time's keen scythe at last. 
 Slowly decays its noble form. 
 
 A vernal monarch of the land, 
 And dear to every British heart ; 
 
 Even its ruins, truly grand, 
 Will many a wholesome truth impart. 
 
 Speaking in language clear indeed. 
 That all on earth must meet decay. 
 
 That Time, though tardy in his speed, 
 Too surely sweeps all tilings away. 
 
 Beauty must fade, and strength must fail, 
 Worth cannot charm its iron spell ; 
 
 Kingdoms and empires are but frail, 
 And many a humbling presage tell. 
 
 Plant of my native land, adieu ! 
 
 My humble muse can ill pourtray. 
 My musings as thy form I view, 
 
 In youth, in vigour and decay.
 
 33 
 
 (J^n tlm ((?n55niiitr. 
 
 Beautiful insect, sportive and gay, 
 Rest thee awhile on this eglantine spray ; 
 The lovely carnation, of elegant hue, 
 Expands its fair blossom — a welcome for you. 
 Or do you love from the graceful jonquille 
 To inhale the perfume its sweet petals distil. 
 
 Beautiful Gossamer, fly not away. 
 Flora around has a splendid display ; 
 Choose thee a floweret and tarry awhile, 
 Let me gaze on thy beauty of exquisite style. 
 Trust mo, thou may'st, there is nothing to fear. 
 Calm may you rest in security here. 
 
 Beautiful insect, choose thee a rose, 
 On its fair bosom serenely repose ; 
 All ! hast thou chosen the fair- pense-amoi. 
 Floweret of friendship, token of joy ! 
 Think of me, mortal, thou seemest to say, 
 Seek for the flow'rets that never decay. 
 
 (a fable.) 
 
 I WOULD not be a butterfly, 
 Deck'd in robes of radiant dye, 
 Sporting in the noontide ray, 
 Thoughtless, indolent and gay. 
 
 I would not be a drowsy moth, 
 Wasting life in careless sloth ; 
 Or rous'd by pride to folly's height. 
 Plunge in the taper's fatal light.
 
 34< 
 
 I would not be tliat useless thing, 
 A gadfly, wth transparent wing, 
 Coquetting from sweet to sweet. 
 Every gaudy flower to meet. 
 
 I would not be, what I behold, 
 An idle wasp in black and gold, 
 Feasting on the downy peach, 
 Destroying all within its reach. 
 
 Neither would I be a snail. 
 Creeping in a coat of mail, 
 Unable both to fly or walk, 
 And dining oS" a cabbage-stalk. 
 
 Thus said a little ant one day, 
 Oppress'd by Sol's refulgent ray. 
 And resting with his pond'rous load, 
 Upon the way to his abode. 
 
 A friend who heard the busy creature. 
 After examining each featiure. 
 Replied, " Dear madam, pray excuse, 
 I'll not intrude on friendship's dues. 
 
 But griev'd I am to hear you prate 
 About your neighbours at this rate ; 
 Nay, do not frown— I must be licard— 
 You arc too sharp, upon my word. 
 
 Your industry is great, I giant, 
 Your prudence well provides for want ; 
 And true contentment is a blessing 
 I'm truly plcas'd AA'ith your possessing. 
 
 But in your countenance I view 
 A shade of envy's blighting hue ; 
 A tinge of self-conceit and pride 
 Arc quite as visible beside.
 
 35 
 
 Excuse the freedom of a friend, 
 And strive these blemishes to mend ; 
 Encouraged, rapid is their growth, 
 Eclipsing your intrinsic worth. 
 
 Pity for others' faults and failings 
 Should always conquer bitter railings ; 
 Humility should deck your brow, 
 And kindness blend with all you do. 
 
 Fail- charity, that thinks no ill, 
 
 And candour, courtesy, good- will. 
 
 Should alway judge of others labours. 
 
 And hold the scales to weigh their neighbours. 
 
 ilH'ittni lifiiratjj n §m^ nf EnscliiiiiH. 
 
 The rose, the loved and lovely rose. 
 Presents an emblem of decay ; 
 E'en while its beauteous leaves unclose, 
 An insect eats its stem away. 
 
 So 'tis with man — the sting of death 
 Destroys his fair and fragile bloom ; 
 And when ho draM-s his natal breath. 
 Begins his journey to the tomb. 
 
 3nijrri|]tinii fur he !Hilnnii. 
 
 My fi-ontispiece with art and science dight, 
 The modest muse, perchance, may fright ; 
 Fear not, explorer— (here no critics frown, 
 For friendship marks these pages as her own) — 
 To add thy tribute to my treasured store 
 Of pen or pencil. I will say no more 
 Than this, as relics of blest years gone by, 
 When fi-icnds arc scattered, some, alas ! may die ;
 
 36 
 
 Some may forsake me, others maj' forget, 
 
 And youth's bright hopes in bitter gloom may set. 
 
 'Twill charm the pensive hours, again to trace 
 
 Each kind memento that here finds a place ; 
 
 Or should my days in peaceful calmness glide. 
 
 Yet time and distance early friends divide. 
 
 Ah ! be my home a palace or a cot. 
 
 Dear " Aukl Lang Syne" will never be forget ; 
 
 New friends may please, and solace kind impart, 
 
 But early fiiendbhips nestle in the heart ; 
 
 And be that heart by vice or folly broke, 
 
 As clings the ivy to the blighted oak. 
 
 So friendship twines aromidthe withering form, 
 
 Shields and supports the victim of the storm. 
 
 AVho sleeps beneath this hillock, green and osier-bound, 
 "Wliere humble wild flowers unambitious creep ? 
 
 A mother here a resting-place has found. 
 Where love and sorrow sacred vigils keep. 
 
 Mark the fresh garland on the blighted tree, 
 
 Whose withering branches partly shade the spot ; 
 
 Affection's tear unmix'd here plainly see. 
 Still glitt'ring on the pale forget-me-not. 
 
 No costly monument— no sculptured stone— 
 "With laboui-'d eulogies attention crave ; 
 
 Here meditation loves to wander lone. 
 And weep upon a mother's humble grave. 
 
 The tear that trembles on the oi-phan's cheek, 
 As memory glances at the days gone by ;— 
 
 The sacred Hame of filial love, bespeak 
 And claim the tribute of the passmg sigh.
 
 37 
 
 All ! be it mine, when Death, with potent sway, 
 
 Shall stop the pulses of this mortal Irame— 
 While blend my ashes with their kindred clay. 
 
 My children's love and fond regret to claim. 
 I do not ask the pageantry of woe — 
 
 Upon my hillock flowers or grass may wave ; 
 Let pearly tears of filial sorrow flow 
 
 Upon their mother's humble, lowly grave. 
 
 /:y 
 
 (!^o ;i ^Ij-nciiLi. 
 
 How often have we cause to weep, 
 
 For others' sufferings or our own ; 
 And o'er my humble lyre will creep 
 
 Full many a sad and plaintive tone. 
 For who can say, I'm truly blest ; 
 
 My bosom owns no anxious care ; 
 No poignant sorrows e'er molest. 
 
 For all around is passing fair 1 
 
 Full well I guess thy cause of woe, 
 And bitter, bitter 'tis, I own ; 
 
 Respected let thy sorrows flow. 
 But not unpitied or alone. 
 
 An eye unseen beholds thy grief; 
 
 An ear in secret hears thy sighs ; 
 A hand supreme will give relief 
 
 When every earthly comfort flies. 
 Then cherish hope, in mercy given. 
 
 To cheer us on our chequer'd way ; 
 Though cross'd, and rugged, and uneven, 
 
 'Twill terminate in endless day.
 
 % 
 
 38 
 
 iitflettioii 
 
 Sages have said the world's a cheat, 
 With sorrows, cares and slq replete : 
 Its smiles are faithless, fleeting, vain ; 
 Its best applause a jarring strain ; 
 Its partial kindness only shown 
 "Where Fortune has her favoui-s strown ; 
 Its frown \mgentle, harsh, austere ; 
 Its censure pitiless, severe ; 
 Its chill neglect the poor man shares ; 
 Its dreaded laugh not virtue spares ; 
 Its honours fragile, dearly bought ; 
 Its pleasures empty — less than nought ; 
 And he who would its riches gain, 
 Reaps disappointment, care and pain. 
 But ah ! one sacred spot remains 
 Where" faithful friendship ever reigns ; 
 Where love unchangeable presides, 
 Experience counsels, wisdom guides ; 
 Where memory holds her wonted sway. 
 Beyond the period of to-day ; 
 Where may be found aifection's tear. 
 Bright, pure, unclouded and sincere, 
 The cordial greeting, free from guile, 
 The warm embrace, the cheerful smile, 
 The fond regrets, the heartfelt sighs, 
 And all the social sympathies. 
 To fmd the spot, we need not roam ; 
 One word expresses it — 'tis home !
 
 39 
 
 51 Sl^ntlicr'ii 5liiiirr0n to jjrr Snfniit. 
 
 Foil thee, sweet babe ! a mother's love 
 Unfading flow'rcts would bo wreathing ; 
 
 But after days will truly prove 
 
 How fund the wish that love is breathinsr. 
 
 I will not ask at Fortune's shrine 
 Her richest treasures to bestow ; — 
 
 May health and sweet contentment twine 
 A flow'ry garland for thy brow. 
 
 I will not ask of Nature kind 
 
 The fairest form and face for thee ; 
 
 No I may she rather deck thy mind 
 With virtue and humility. 
 
 But I will ask of bounteous Heaven 
 To guide thee in the narow way ; 
 
 Be it rugged and uneven, 
 
 Yet from its precincts ne'er to stray. 
 
 I will not ask of Science fair 
 Her polish'd gifts to grace my child ; 
 
 Home's sweeter duties be her care — 
 A temper even, soft and mild ; 
 
 A heart affectionate, sincere, 
 Not too susceptible or too frigid ; 
 
 A judgment as the noonday clear. 
 To others' failings not too rigid. 
 
 And may Religion rear her throne 
 Within the precincts of thy heart ; 
 
 And though unfriended and alone, 
 Thou'lt have a balm for every smart.
 
 40 
 
 (Dii king nskrlr, tBjiEt is ^^ittj ? 
 
 Ah ! pity — angelical pity ! — I know, 
 Wounds not misfortune by irony's blow ; 
 It soothes the opprest — the sinner would spare — 
 Makes childhood and age its peculiar care ; 
 Sheds a tear for the sufferings it cannot relieve, 
 And tempers stern justice the Avretch to reprieve. 
 But pity is not altogether confined 
 To sooth the afflictions and woes of mankind ; 
 To the beasts of the field— to the birds of the air, 
 Sweet pity extondeth her banners to spare ; 
 The fish of the sea and the poor creeping thing 
 Gentle pity protects from barbarity's sting ; 
 The all- wise Creator, to brighten life's span, 
 In pity to us took the semblance of man ; 
 Robb'd death of its terrors, and died on the tree, 
 To purchase redemption for sinners like me. 
 
 (S)n % Dcntl; nf llnlicrt SiolnninliElli. 
 
 Poet of Nature, fare thee well ! 
 
 Thou art lost to every human eye ; 
 The sexton tolls thy fun'ral knell : 
 
 The best and brightest soonest die. 
 
 'Twas here thy destiny to know 
 The height of bliss and depth of sorrow ; 
 
 Thy form will rest in earth below, 
 
 In calm repose to wait " the morrow."
 
 41 
 
 Unshackled from an envious world, 
 The bands of nature hold no more, 
 
 Hope's brightest banner waves unfurled, 
 A welcome to a happier shore. 
 
 There time thy lyre to songs of lov 
 In chorus witli the angels sing ; 
 
 Eternal pleasure reigns above, 
 An everlasting verdant spring. 
 
 ll^rittfu iu n Inittj's 5llliiiiii. 
 
 Shall I, a simple child of song, 
 In these f^r pages dare to write ; 
 
 Presume to join that tuneful throng 
 Whose graceful nxmibers wake delight. 
 
 Sliall I entwine my humble name 
 
 In such a wreath of poesy : 
 Unknown to fortune and to fame, 
 
 Myself and simple minstrelsy. 
 
 The frail effusion of my pen, 
 Unmeet, unmeant for public eye, 
 
 Dcsign'd alone for friendship's ken. 
 And in its sunny smile to die, 
 
 Will here, I trust, with kindness meet 
 Protection fi-om the critic's sneer ; 
 
 For, lady, I am fain to greet 
 Thee with a rustic lay sincere.
 
 42 
 
 I wish thee erery earthly good, 
 Thy present happiness imfoding ; 
 
 And should unwelcome care intrude, 
 Thy flow'ry path with sorrow shading, 
 
 JIay'st thou have fortitude to bear 
 Those chast'nings, oft in mercy given, 
 
 And in the hour of trial share 
 
 The all-supporting hand of Heaven. 
 
 Clje §eetks, 
 
 (a fable.) 
 
 An honest old beetle — so fabulists tell — 
 
 Resided alone in a snug little cell, 
 
 No cheerful housekeeper, or sensible wife, 
 
 Enliven'd the hoiu's of his bachelor life ; 
 
 His spirits, I'm told, were remarkably good, 
 
 And his conduct extoll'd by the whole neighbourhood 
 
 For kindness and courtesy, learning and sense — 
 
 Keing truly polite, never giving offence ; 
 
 His justice and judgment were dcem'd so profoimd, 
 
 That disputants came to him for many miles round, 
 
 To ask his advice or to settle dissension : 
 
 One instance perchance it were proper to mention. 
 
 Two spiders, that long had been intimate friends. 
 
 Lived in harmony sweet which on friendship attends ; 
 
 Ever anxious to please, and attach' d to each other, 
 
 They considered themselves as the sons of one mother
 
 43 
 
 It chanced on a time, as these two worthy spinners 
 
 Lay in anibush to catch a plump fly for their dinners, 
 
 I think. Mr. Longlcgs, one of them, begun, 
 
 " My daughter would be a fine match for your son ; 
 
 Slxe's gay as the lark and blithe as the bee, 
 
 And has no objection, between you and me ; 
 
 My resources arc ample, I well can provide 
 
 A dowry worth having with such a sweet bride." 
 
 Mr. Louglegs was silent, well knowing his heir 
 
 Had placed his affections on some other fair : 
 
 Had not this been the case, he would often aver 
 
 He would never consent to be married to her ; 
 
 For pretty Miss Spinwell, it pains me to tell, 
 
 Was a thoughtless, extravagant, dashaway belle, 
 
 And he wisely concluded that discord and strife 
 
 Would follow his course if he took such a wife. 
 
 The silence continued — 'twas painful in truth ; 
 
 At length thus began the papa of the youth : 
 
 " It has long been my wish that a union should blend 
 
 Our separate interests, my much valued friend ; 
 
 But youth is so wayward, and, scorning advice, 
 
 Deems its wisdom profound, and decides in a trice. 
 
 My son," and he paused, and he sighed, and resumed, 
 
 " Is engaged to Miss Webspin, whose house was consumed 
 
 In the late severe tempest ; and they have agreed 
 
 To be married directly : it grieves me, indeed. 
 
 To wound your kind feelings, my excellent brother ; 
 
 Let not this make a change in regard to each other." 
 
 Now both of these spiders, it can't be denied, 
 
 Had a very large portion of family pride ; 
 
 And Miss Spinwell's father's kind offer refused. 
 
 He consider' d his dignity vastly abused ; 
 
 Disputations arose, and a coolness ensued, 
 
 And their alter'd deportment was surly and rude. 
 
 A friend, who respected both parties, began 
 
 To accommodate matters ; he hit on the plan
 
 44 
 
 To send them to Counsellor Beetle so grave, 
 
 His friendly advice and wise judgment to crave ; 
 
 He patiently heard every point of the case, 
 
 Examined, cross-question'd, then stroking his face, 
 
 " Truly, neighboui-s," he cried, "I'm sorry to see 
 
 Old acquaintance and friends thus referring to me ; 
 
 But as I am a friend and admirer of peace, 
 
 I advise that all malice and discord should cease : 
 
 What has happen'd is past ; let each party be mute, 
 
 And never begin or prolong a dispute ; 
 
 Shake hands on the instant, take dinner with me, 
 
 E.etui-n to your houses between supper and tea':" 
 
 The two worthy sjjmners approv'd his advice. 
 
 Shook hands, and Avere friendly again in a trice. 
 
 Now somehow it happened — but how is not known — 
 
 Mr . Beetle grew tired of residing alone ; 
 
 So to gild, as he said, the calm evening of life, 
 
 He resolved upon taking a sensible wife : 
 
 All approved of the project, for each could commend 
 
 An aunt or a sister, niece, daughter, or friend. 
 
 His choice was soon fix'd on an elegant creature, 
 
 Of winning deportment and beautiful feature ; 
 
 Some wise ones look'd wiser, some ventured to wink, 
 
 And those who were silent had leisure to think. 
 
 His neat little cell was soon furnished in style ; 
 
 Neighbour Beetle, 'twas said, had forgotten to smile ; 
 
 Old friends, one by one, very plainly could see 
 
 They were not much approved by the gay Mrs. B. — 
 
 That most of the guests, overstarched in their pride, 
 
 Were the brothers, and cousins, and friends of the bride. 
 
 It will not be matter, perhaps, of surprise, 
 
 To know that time open'd our worthy friend's eyes : 
 
 He found — as too many have found when too late — 
 
 He had acted unwisely in choosing a mate, 
 
 AVhere age, taste and sentiments truly bespoke 
 
 A state of sad bondage — an uneasy yoke.
 
 4-5 
 
 •* 'Tis usflcss," he said, " to regret or repine j 
 
 Too many have wept such an union as mine." 
 
 " Very true," said a Iriend, " this is one instance more ; 
 
 Of similar ones I know half a score ;" 
 
 And points out that wisdom is likely to err. 
 
 This truth you will grunt without any demur — 
 
 ITiat where sense and judgment most brightly appear, 
 
 Frailty asks for a pitying tear. 
 
 % ||irni[ of (!\ik; ill nii Slluiiii. 
 
 Fair spray of oak, I greet thee here, 
 On more accounts than one ; 
 
 As friendship's gift I hold thee dear. 
 Auspiciously begun. 
 
 Be thou an emblem of it too, 
 
 Plant of my native land ; 
 For storm and tempest well I know, 
 
 Unmov'd thou dost withstand. 
 
 So be our friendship famed for strength. 
 
 For constancy and truth ; 
 And long outlive the little length 
 
 Of gay and glowing youth. 
 
 The storm may tear away thy leaf. 
 
 And strip thy sturdy baik, 
 So Ave may feel the storms of grief, 
 
 And all around be dai-k. 
 
 Yet as the tempest cannot reach 
 To sear or blight thy heart. 
 
 So we, true friendship guiding each. 
 May sooth misfortune's smart.
 
 46 
 
 Ah ! what animation here ! 
 Existence without atmosphere — 
 Within the precincts of this shell 
 To live, to revel and to dwell. 
 
 Xo dawning light of glorious day, 
 Nor natm-e's genial garbs display ; 
 No ray of light, a solemn gloom, 
 Till crackers haste thy mortal doom. 
 
 ilethinks, poor insect, thou must wonder, 
 As the dire crash, like mighty thunder, 
 Developes, as aroxmd you see, 
 A sunlit world exposed to thee. 
 
 Is it seclusion, insect, tell. 
 
 That makes thee look so white, so well ; 
 
 Or is it that you have alone 
 
 In spotless grace and silence shone r 
 
 Farewcll, poor insect, now adieu ; 
 When nature bursts, may I, like you. 
 With garments white and spirit gay, 
 Hail the great eternal day.
 
 47 
 
 :^f Wn\p} 'Mnm, srt not tliij fmx\ upun tlinii. 
 
 Now if thy fields yield ample store, 
 And added wealth increase thy state, 
 
 Thou art not truly rich, but poor. 
 
 Though sordid minds may call thee great. 
 
 Should glit'ring gold or costly gem 
 
 Attract thy spirit from the sky, 
 Set not thy hope alone on them. 
 
 But living, learn the ai't to die. 
 
 Poor is the wealth of time and sense. 
 
 Fading, decaying, quickly gone — 
 Faith looks beyond earth's recompense 
 
 To gain celestial wealth alone. 
 
 Earthly possessions clog the soul, 
 
 Fetter its higher lights of bliss, 
 Withdraw the spirit from its goal, 
 
 And tempt frail man to act amiss. 
 
 For pride, poor human i)ride, the bane 
 Of joys, pure, tranquil and sincere, 
 
 Darkens the mind as wealth we gain, 
 Whispering thou hast nought to fear. 
 
 Presumptuous man false reason hears, 
 
 Bids his poor soul in full repose, 
 Chases his half-extinguished fears. 
 
 Nor faith, nor hope, nor love disclose. 
 
 Guide us, kind Father, guide us still. 
 With passions gentle, love smcere. 
 
 Teach us thy way, thy holy will, 
 To bend in meek submission here.
 
 48 
 
 Teach us the knowledge that has power 
 The soul to raise above this scene, 
 
 When ev'ry earthly joy shall lower, 
 And man's true dignity be seen. 
 
 AVe'U use thy blessings which around 
 
 In peaceful plenty scatter' d lay ; 
 And should oui- earthly stores abound, 
 Oh ! grant us those which ne'er decay. 
 
 €n lljB llvi|lnrL 
 
 Sweet thrilling songster of the field, 
 What joys thy early matins yield 
 
 The ploughman on his way. 
 Blight bird of morning's earliest light, 
 Harmonious chaser of the night, 
 
 Proelaimer of the day. 
 
 Soaring on wide extended wing, 
 You call the feather' d tribe to sing, 
 
 And adoration pay. 
 To laud his wonders, while thy breath 
 Proclaims aloud, revive from death ! 
 
 Behold Sol's cheerful ray ! 
 
 From partial death of dreamy sleep, 
 Awake ye slothful slumberers deep, 
 
 Attend to music gay. 
 While life's short hours to thee are lent, 
 Appreciate the blessing sent, 
 
 And tiuie thy grateful lay.
 
 49 
 
 Who, in this world of grief and care, 
 Will teach us all its ills to bear, 
 And in our sorrows kindly share ? 
 
 Who, of a natiu-e formed to please, 
 From languor dull the spirit frees. 
 And changes care to mirth and ease ? 
 
 MHiat gives our pleasures all tlieir zest ? 
 "WHiose marked attentions make us blest. 
 And with such transports fill the breast? 
 
 When danger threatens, who is near. 
 Our fainting steps and heart to cheer, 
 And wipe away the falling tear ? 
 
 If foes ignoble dare oppress. 
 And overwhelm us in distress, 
 Who flies our injuries to redress ? 
 
 Who by a word, a look, a sigh, 
 Creates despair or extacj', 
 Fixing our earthly destiny ? 
 
 From every insult does defend, 
 And in one sacred union blend 
 A father, brother, husband, friend.
 
 oO 
 
 Go, heartsease, deck the sunny brow 
 Of that luiconscious blooming one, 
 
 And through life's devious path as now. 
 Unfading bloom for thee, my son. 
 
 Sweet, lovely emblematic flower. 
 In childhood's gambols wild and free, 
 
 I've mark'd in him thy magic power. 
 With all a mother's extacy. 
 
 Gay, happy, buoyant, volatile, 
 
 I've watched his sports with tearful eye. 
 Whilst fancy changed that cheriib smile 
 
 To manhood's tear of agony. 
 
 How fond, how weak, ah ! how complex, 
 
 A mother's fondest wishes are, 
 Distractmg thoughts, foreboding vex. 
 
 Augmented by maternal fear. 
 
 She sees her blooming offspring grow 
 
 From childhood's dawn to manhood's prime. 
 
 And knows tbe world can nought bestow, 
 But sin, deception, guilt and crime. 
 
 Yet on this fair deceitful stage. 
 
 Her precious chai-ge must soon appear ; 
 
 And onward to declining age. 
 That world will every virtue sere. 
 
 Nor can she bear the thought, that death 
 
 Should call it to an early tomb. 
 Though faith entwines the cypress wreath 
 
 With flow'rets of immortal bloom. 
 
 Still in the world's extensive range, 
 
 There is to the observant eye 
 A narrow path where few estrange, 
 
 Its termination is on high.
 
 51 
 
 flpnii nn mifurtiiiintc ^c^nrt. 
 
 Yes, hapless poet, wretched is thy fate ! 
 
 Oppress'd by penury, pursued by hate ; 
 
 Disasters dire thy scullo spirit vex ; 
 
 In early youth, by hopeless love pcrplex'd, 
 
 Thy hopes were crushed — despair his shafts unfurl'd, 
 
 And thou becamest an outcast from the world ; 
 
 A houseless wanderer on life's rugged stage. 
 
 Without one friend to cheer declining age. 
 
 Unpitying clowns thy solitude molest. 
 
 And rabble boys thy evening hours distrest ; 
 
 Thy well-directed and submissive mind 
 
 Within itself can consolation find ; 
 
 To thee religion will her aid impart. 
 
 To soothe the sorrows of a broken heart. 
 
 Mild resignation to the wUl of God, 
 
 Enables thee to kiss the chastening rod ; 
 
 And peaceful conscience and the Muse's smile 
 
 Combined, thy woe-fraught wretchedness beguile. 
 
 Had fortune shed on thee her gcn'rous store, 
 
 Hadst thou been rich, not miserably poor. 
 
 Thy genius, blazon'd by the breath of fame, 
 
 Had cast a deathless halo round thy name. 
 
 Bards much less happy in the Muse's smile. 
 
 Whose labour'd verse is usher'd in with toil, 
 
 Of taste inferior and in style beneath. 
 
 Are often crowned with bright distinction's wreath. 
 
 Thy works, I fear, though dress'd in pleasing guise. 
 
 By pride and prejudice forbade to rise. 
 
 Full soon consign'd to dark oblivion's shade. 
 
 Will bloom unseen, and undistinguished fade. 
 
 A candid few may advocate thy cause. 
 
 Nor fear to give thy genius due applause ; 
 
 One of that iew am I — nor blush to tell, 
 
 'Tis with regret I bid thee now farewell I
 
 52 
 
 €n tjir 96nttnllt[. 
 
 Little flaiinting gaudy thing, 
 Sporting thus on giddy wing, 
 How unlike the modest bee, 
 Idle thou, industrious he. 
 
 Flitting thus from sweet to sweet. 
 Childhood does thy presence greet, 
 Tracmg thee from flower to flow'r. 
 The pastime of its gleeful hour. 
 
 Free thou ai-t from care and sorrow. 
 Reckless of thy fate to-morrow ; 
 He provides a winter store. 
 Is humbly rich, thou proud and poor. 
 
 Insects ! in your lives I trace 
 Emblems of the human race ; 
 The idle fop and gay coquette, 
 In the butterfly are met. 
 
 But in the useful, humble bee, 
 Intrinsic worth and modesty ; 
 Skill to improve the present hour. 
 And gather sweets from ev'ry flower. 
 
 Ladies, gentle, young and fair, 
 Make not dress and show your care ; 
 Seek for pleasures more refined. 
 And deck with nicest art the mind.
 
 53 
 
 Stailiqlji 
 
 Now the glorious orb of day 
 
 Has slowly sunk in ocean's bosom, 
 
 Now the glow-worm gems the way, 
 And the primrose ope's its blossom. 
 
 Labour now retires to rest, 
 Fairies dance upon the green, 
 
 Every bird has sought its nest, 
 Save the owl of omen'd mien. 
 
 Now the firmament on high 
 Shines with many a starry ray, 
 
 Twnklmg in the cloudless sky, 
 To light the weary pilgrim's way. 
 
 Now the pilferer cautious creeps, 
 Startling as the watch- dog barks ; 
 
 Now the sleepless mourner weeps, 
 As time's tardy step he marks. 
 
 See the ruthless murderer stealing 
 
 On Ixis destin'd victim : lo ! 
 TJnrestrain'd by conscious feeling. 
 
 Now he strikes the fatal blow. 
 
 Now the village goblin stalking 
 Through the lane, arrayed in white, 
 
 Sets the ancient beldames talking 
 
 Of ghosts that haunt the starlight night.
 
 54: 
 
 I 
 
 (WRITTEN BY R E Q C B S T.) 
 
 Ah ! lady, you have acted right 
 
 In making this selection ; 
 For who is there who cannot write 
 
 An essay on affection. 
 
 A sacred feeling which imparts 
 
 A lustre by reflection ; 
 How blest the unison of hearts, 
 
 Cemented by affection. 
 
 Too oft the infant's only dower, 
 
 Lisuring it protection ; 
 In childhood's gay and reckless hour, 
 
 How needful is affection. 
 
 A floweret blooming on the waste. 
 
 To chase away dejection, 
 In friendship's bosom truly placed. 
 
 In token of affection. 
 
 A lamp to guide the pilgrim's way. 
 The christian's best direction ; 
 
 How beaming is the soften'd ray, 
 Enkindled by affection. 
 
 No product of ingenious art. 
 That falls upon inspection ; 
 
 Does there exist a human heart 
 That beats not with affection.
 
 56 
 
 Long, lady, may you feel its power, 
 It shrinks not from inspection, 
 
 And in affliction's trying hoiu", 
 Be tended by affection. 
 
 And when thy placid life shall close 
 Frail nature's just correction. 
 
 Long be thy mem'ry wept by those, 
 Who hail'd thee with affection. 
 
 Oh ! solitude, where is the charm 
 Thy stillness so lately possess'd ? 
 
 Thy silence could sorrow disarm, 
 And soothe sad disquiet to rest. 
 
 When Sol in mild splendour has set, 
 No more by the streamlet I stray, 
 
 Tlie lonely sequester'd retreat 
 I leave for a circle more gay. 
 
 The season of trial is o'er, 
 
 The band of my trouble broke up, 
 Hope smUes on my prospect once more. 
 
 And joy sparkles bright in my cup. 
 
 Society, friendship and health. 
 Sweet soothers of every pain, 
 
 Much dearer than honours or wealth. 
 With rapture I greet ye again.
 
 56 
 
 Sweet peace iii this late aching heart 
 Again has erected her throne, 
 
 Anxiety, sorrow depart, 
 For happiness now is my own. 
 
 Ply hence, every pang of regret, 
 And aU that disturb'd my repose ; 
 
 Yet let me not madly forget 
 The source whence felicity flows. 
 
 To thee, the protector of youth. 
 The support of my sorrowful days, 
 
 The God of salvation and truth, 
 I offer thanksgiving and praise. 
 
 C0 liiss 
 
 Come, cheer thee, LuccUa, and dry up those tears, 
 "Which ingratitude base thus impels thee to shed. 
 
 No longer a prey to disquieting fears. 
 
 Oh ! shake off those trammels which falsehood has spread. 
 
 Ah ! tell me no more that your peace of mind never 
 Again will return, that your prospects are seared, 
 
 That, base as he is, you will love him for ever, 
 And end your sad sojourn alone and uncheered. 
 
 Believe me, thy sorrows too much I respect, 
 To accuse thee of weakness, and never will I, 
 
 By ungentle reproaches and chilling neglect, 
 Extort from thy bosom one sorrowful sigh.
 
 57 
 
 And yet, I will tell thco 'tis wron^ to repine 
 At misfortunes which Providence suffers to be ; 
 
 'Tis our duty submissive our wills to resign, 
 To that power which protects both LuccUa and me. 
 
 Then be not unmindful of comforts remaining, 
 The future, believe me, has blessings in store ; 
 
 Let gratitude check thee again when complaining, 
 Again let me hope you will murmur no more. 
 
 'Tis a favour Avhich friendship sincere and unshaken. 
 Alive to your welfare, demands as its due ; 
 
 And surely those feelings which sympathies waken, 
 Will not be imheedcd or slighted by you. 
 
 Then cheer thee, hucella, and let not the present 
 Be clouded by thinking of days that arc gone. 
 
 Remember though yesterday prov'd but unpleasant, 
 To-day has been bright with an unclouded sun. 
 
 %« tljc lloti). 
 
 Fly away, pretty moth, 
 I'm exceedingly loth 
 
 To have thee consum'd by my taper ; 
 Do pray wing your flight 
 From its too fatal light, 
 
 And rest on the ceiling or paper. 
 
 Alas ! silly thing, 
 
 Thou hast scorch 'd thy soft wmg. 
 
 Headlong thou wilt fall, in a minute ; 
 One elegant horn, 
 Poor insect, is gone. 
 
 Its beautiful relics arc in it.
 
 58 
 
 Why fly around — 
 
 To thy cost havmg found 
 
 The effect of approaching too near ; 
 Lo ! thy feet are now gone, 
 Believe me, anon 
 
 Not a vestigij of thee will appear. 
 
 Ah I the moment is come 
 That sealeth thy doom, 
 
 Thy radiant body and head — 
 Now consume in the blaze, 
 Thou hast number' d thy days, 
 
 And thy uncontioU'd spirit is fled. 
 
 Thou mindest me, Moth, 
 Of the young, going forth 
 
 To the gay — the delusive gay world ; 
 Who, scorning advice. 
 Like thee in a trice, 
 
 To utter destruction are hurl'd. 
 
 fines to 
 
 We parted in sorrow. 
 
 The pitiless sea 
 Bore thee far on the morrow 
 
 From England and me. 
 I'll cherish this token, 
 
 Thy last gift to me, 
 With a heart almost broken — 
 
 Remembering thee.
 
 59 
 
 A friend thou wert ever, 
 
 Kiiul, faithful, sincere ; 
 Tho' distance may sever, 
 
 Oixr spirits are near. 
 Our hearts are united 
 
 ^liere'er we may be, 
 The present is blighted 
 
 For you and for me. 
 
 But prospects are breaking 
 
 Through sorrow and gloom, 
 And hearts that are aching 
 
 Will rest in the tomb. 
 The spirit undying, 
 
 Unfetter' d, and free. 
 To the Saviour is flying, 
 
 Remembering me. 
 
 'Twas the latest instruction. 
 
 He gave upon earth. 
 To save from destruction, 
 
 From anger and wrath, 
 Mandkind's fallen race. 
 
 Where'er they may be. 
 Who seek for his grace 
 
 On a suppliant knee. 
 
 Then be it our care. 
 
 Though seas may divide. 
 To wrestle in prayer 
 
 With our Saviour and guide. 
 He alone can controul 
 
 Tlie depths of the sea. 
 And cares for the soul 
 
 That " remembereth me."
 
 60 
 
 (a fable.) 
 
 Once on a time a Tulip gay, 
 
 Attir'd in rich and fine array, 
 
 Address'd with arrogance and pride, 
 
 A Violet which grew beside. 
 
 " Poor simple weed, of humble birth, 
 
 " Creeping along on mother earth ; 
 
 " How darest thou approach so near, 
 
 " The queen of all the gay parterre ? 
 
 " Observe my stem, erect and tall, 
 
 " How irksome it must be to crawl ; 
 
 " My splendid cup, of richest hue, 
 
 " Must needs be much admir'd by you. 
 
 " "Well may'st thou mourn thy humble lot, 
 
 *' Despised, neglected, and forgot ; 
 
 " Whilst I, the gardener's boasted pride, 
 
 " Am more admired than all beside. 
 
 " Do take a friend's advice, and grow 
 
 " "With flowers of a less brilliant show ; 
 
 " The daisy, and the mignionette, 
 
 " And others of the meaner set." 
 
 " Poor thing !" the Violet replied, 
 
 " I deprecate thy haughty pride ; 
 
 " Contented with my humble sphere, 
 
 " I envy not a neighbour here : 
 
 " Much less thyself, tho' raised so high, 
 
 " With petals dijit in golden dye. 
 
 " The storms that spare my form te wound, 
 
 " Thy boasted charms may scatter round. 
 
 " Or should the blast thy beauty spare, 
 
 *•' And gardener John with nicest care 
 
 " Protect thee from each fatal harm, 
 
 " More than thyself, vain flower, I charm.
 
 fil 
 
 " The Bweets wliicli from my breath exhale, 
 " Perfume the Zephyr's balmy gale ; 
 " Hence, taste neglecting thee so fine ! 
 " Prostrates before my humble shrine. 
 "Thy scent, alas ! disgusts much more 
 " Than all thy beauty gain'tl before." 
 So he of plain or homely face. 
 Whose mind is rich in cidtur'd grace, 
 Will gain more friends, be happier too, 
 Possess'd of all but outward show ; 
 Than he who, like the Tulip fair, 
 Makes that alone his only care. 
 
 Ilniumbniiitt 
 
 Ah ! memory fondly lingers yet, 
 
 O'er much-loved scenes with deep regret. 
 
 'Tis not the hour of chUdhood gay, 
 Which, like the rose, has pass'd away ; 
 'Tis not the landscape's lowing scene, 
 In varied tints of lovely green : 
 
 The dale, the spire, the stream, the hill. 
 No, these are all remaining still ; 
 It is not home that I regret. 
 But one that I shall ne'er forget. 
 
 When fancy, with reflective eye. 
 Retraces scenes and times gone by ; 
 When much loved friends and I have met, 
 AMiere memory fondly lingers yet ; 
 
 That faded form appears in view. 
 With sunken cheek and pallid hue ; 
 The kind embrace, the parting tear, 
 The anxious wish, the earnest prayer.
 
 62 
 
 The friend and guide togefher met, 
 In her whom I shall ne'er forget ; 
 I seek that form, but find it not, 
 In each beloved— still beauteous spot ; 
 And when survi-s"ing friends are met, 
 We talk of her with fond regret. 
 
 Ah ! gentle Robin, is it so, 
 Do the flow'rets cease to blow ? 
 Has autumnal's chilling power 
 Driven thee from verdant bower ? 
 
 Has the Zephyr ceased to play r 
 And the sportive lamb so gay. 
 Bid adieu to wood and grove, 
 Where thou'st warbled notes of love i 
 
 Has the humming busy bee. 
 Bid farewell to flower and tree ? 
 Does the thrush no longer sing, 
 With the mellow note of spring r 
 
 If thou canst no longer find 
 Beauties suited to thy mind. 
 Welcome, here extend thy throat, 
 With a warbling tuneful note. 
 
 'c 
 
 Near my cottage window flutter, 
 Perch upon the casement shutter. 
 Watch me with thy sparkling eye ; 
 Robin tell me, tell me why.
 
 03 
 
 Dost thou think in man to find 
 A nature docile, free and kind, 
 That around his cot you fly ; 
 Robin tell me, tell me why. 
 
 Why you court the cottage door, 
 Carol sweetly to the poor, 
 Morninjj, noon and evening spread 
 Thy russet wings around my shed '-. 
 
 Well, Robin, from my daily bread 
 I'll engage you shall be fed, 
 Till the vernal sun shall come. 
 And lure thee from my peaceful home. 
 
 % £t;ir. 
 
 Oh ! say what is that powerful charm 
 That can the fiercest rage disarm, 
 And stay the uplifted vengeful arm ? 
 
 What is it cancels unbelief? 
 
 And when the mind is torn by grief, 
 
 What gives the bursting heart relief? 
 
 What is it speaks the feeling mind — 
 
 A social sympathy refined. 
 
 And solace gives of gentlest kind ? 
 
 What softly trembles in the eye, 
 And, blended with a gentle sigh, 
 Evinces sensibility ? 
 
 And though the worldling deems it weak, 
 Wliat with such eloquence can speak, 
 When straying down the manly check — 
 A Tea k ?
 
 61 
 
 W^d h Siistirr? 
 
 What justice is I wish to know : 
 Is it to spare an open foe ? 
 Or slily watch, the lucky minute, 
 Prepare a pit, and plunge him in it ? 
 Is it to vex a quiet neighbour ? 
 To rob the hireling of his labour ? 
 Is it to mar a friend's good name, 
 Because you're envious of the same ? 
 Is it to give large sums away, 
 Contracting debts you cannot pay ? 
 Is it to give your hopeful heir 
 Your whole estate ; a pittance bare 
 To those who equal claimants are ? , 
 Is it to countenance a vice 
 In titled rank r be over nice 
 To him who errs ; but in a trifle 
 The widow and the child to rifle ? 
 
 ^n €\m- 
 
 Accept, blest shade, the tributary lay 
 
 Thy worth demands from my deep sorrowing muse ; 
 How vain, alas ! those feelings to pourtray. 
 
 Which memory o'er thy urn so fondly strews. 
 
 Could youth, or virtue, or religion save 
 Thy form from death, or stay thy sojourn here, 
 
 We had not placed thee in the silent grave, 
 Nor shed the bitter unavailing tear.
 
 65 
 
 Yft why regret, or mourn thy sliort career, 
 Since earthly good fast hastens to decay ? 
 
 " Forgive the wish that would liave kept thee here, 
 " And stay'd thy progress to the realms of day." 
 
 E'en there perchance 'tis granted thee to know 
 Those friends to whom thou wast so justly dear ; 
 
 Then were it best to check the tide of woe, 
 Nor wound thy gentle spirit with a tear. 
 
 Thrice happy friend, thus privileg'd by faith, 
 So soon to quit this frail, uncertain scene, 
 
 For one where happiness is found complete. 
 And all are happy, peaceful and serene. 
 
 Nor long on earth shall we, thy friends, remain, 
 Time bears us onward to that eternal shore. 
 
 Where we shall meet each much-lov'd friend again. 
 Oh ! blissful thought — to separate no more ! 
 
 
 i' I N I S.
 
 LONDON : 
 I'rintpd by \V. J. Goi.bourn, fi. Princes Strcel, Leicester Square.
 
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