PR 
 
 5249 
 R3 5 
 
 
 A== 
 
 ^E o ■ 
 
 aS 
 
 g o ■ 
 
 = 
 
 == x 1 
 
 |o s 
 
 
 1° ! 
 
 =. — 10 1 
 ^^^ m ■ 
 
 
 - - — i ■ 
 
 |3 a 
 
 = ^ ■ 
 
 |7 = 
 
 
 I 8 i 
 
 — - CO 1 
 ■ 3J I 
 
 
 ^^= > 1 
 
 lo = 
 
 ■ -c 1 
 
 |6 m 
 
 ■HI- 1 > 1 
 
 I 4 m 
 
 — F 1 1 
 
 
 — i i -< 1 
 
 1 = 
 
 
 : ,1111 
 

 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 NAOMI ; 
 
 A DRAMATIC POEM 
 
 AND OTHER PIECES. 
 
 BY MISS ROUSE, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 "Genius and the Scholar;" " Triumph of Virtue," tyc. 
 
 " Behold the ways 
 
 Of heaven's eternal destiny to man ; 
 For ever just, benevolent, and wise." 
 
 Akeim.de. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 HAMILTON, ADAMS AND CO. PATEBNOSTEB ROW. 
 
 NORWICH : 
 JARROLD AND SONS, LONDON STREET.
 
 TR 
 
 TO 
 
 THE MOST NOBLE 
 
 THE MARCHIONESS OF CHOLMONDELEY, 
 
 EM IB SB IP (DIB BBS 
 
 ARK 
 
 BY PERMISSION 
 
 MOST RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBE D, 
 
 2311 IE S.A®"2'§2C2IF»g 
 
 DEEPLY OBLIGED 
 
 AND GRATEFUL SERVANT, 
 
 THE AUTHORE3S. 
 
 829802
 
 PKEFACE. 
 
 Authors have generally taken a spiritual view of this 
 fine subject, and the writer of these lines is deeply in- 
 debted to a literary friend of acknowledged learning and 
 abilities for much information on this head ; but con- 
 scious that such a view of the case requires deep, 
 important, and devoted reflection, she confines herself to 
 temporal facts, fearing she might tread too lightly on 
 " holy ground." 
 
 Among the many beautiful and interesting characters 
 of scripture, there are none more attractive than the 
 exemplary Naomi, and the amiable Ruth. The former is 
 a model of maternal love — the latter of dignified humility, 
 unshaken firmness, and filial tenderness. Those who 
 cannot follow the destiny of this sweet character with 
 intense interest, weep at her youthful trials, and rejoice 
 in the elevation which rewarded her exalted virtue, must 
 be dead to the best feelings of enlightened minds. 
 
 Many of the busy actors on life's busy stage, and some 
 amid those who tread the velvet avenue of affluence, are 
 unmindful how frequently the same touching scenes might 
 appear to them, were they not too busy, or too careless to 
 observe, and too negligent of their duty to assist. Yet, 
 grateful remembrance must add, there are in the highest 
 ranks of life, those who delight to smooth the rugged path 
 of adversity, and to cheer the gloom of affliction by the 
 sunlight of kindness. The unparalleled beauties of
 
 VI 
 
 scripture are too little known, and too lightly appreciated, 
 by the young. The hope that a by-path, humble though 
 it be, may lead some to tread the expansive plain of holy 
 writ, has induced the authoress to choose this style of 
 subject — not presuming to suppose it derives one attrac- 
 tion from its present garb which can be compared with 
 the original. Human composition, when beautiful, can 
 never compete with the heroic ardour, solemn majesty, 
 and exquisitely touching pathos which characterize the 
 volume of inspiration. 
 
 The incidents are such as will find an echo in many a 
 heart ; and should one child of pride feel how inferior are 
 rank and wealth to virtue — should one lonely Naomi 
 receive comfort, and one daughter of misfortune, whose 
 heart, like Ruth's, has been blighted in the spring time 
 of life, derive solace from her reward, and be incited to 
 toil up the steep and rugged path of duty, the writer will 
 
 not regret the motive nor the deed. 
 
 T. R.
 
 NAOMI ; 
 
 A DRAMATIC POEM. 
 
 " Before honour is humility." — Prov. xv. 33. 
 
 " Of all the graces which adorn thy youth, 
 I with unfeigned affection must commend 
 Thy tried humility. Here thou dwell'st, 
 Content with toil and careless of repose, 
 And (harder still for an ingenious mind) 
 Content to be obscure." 
 
 Hannah More. 
 
 " Not only good and kind, 
 But strong and elevated was her mind ; 
 
 A spirit, that with noble pride 
 
 Could look superior down 
 
 On fortune's smile or frown : 
 That could, without regret or pain, 
 To virtue's lowliest duty sacrifice, 
 Or interest's, or ambition's highest prize." 
 
 Lyttleton.
 
 PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. 
 
 Naom i 
 Ruth 
 Orpah 
 Boaz 
 
 Kinsman 
 Citizens 
 Reapers, &c. 
 
 The subject is taken from the four chapters of the Book of Ruth 
 
 Scene — First in Moab ,• then in Bethlehem.
 
 NAOMI ; 
 
 A DRAMATIC POEM. 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 Scene — In Moab. — Naomi, Ruth, Ohpah. 
 
 NAOMI. 
 
 Adieu, fond hope ! and every bliss below ; 
 Fraught to the brim is now my cup of woe ; 
 The fondest ties dissolved that bound me here ; 
 My sons are gone, and one more wildly dear ; 
 He, whose lov'd voice was music to my ear, 
 Whose step could wake an echo in my heart, 
 Whose slightest woe could agony impart — 
 Nay, all that bound me to the world are gone, 
 And I must seek my native land — alone ! 
 
 KUTH. 
 
 No, not alone ; the scenes I loved in youth, 
 With all the ardour of undoubting truth, 
 That tell of visions beautiful and bright, 
 Which thrill the bosom when the heart is light,
 
 10 NAOMI. 
 
 Those scenes, that wake the spirit from life's dream, 
 Shew what we were — we are — and might have been, 
 And early friends, nay, all of bliss to me, 
 Shall cease to chain my heart — I'll go with thee. 
 
 NAOML 
 
 Ah ! whither go ? Hast thou not learned to know 
 
 No cordial greeting waits the child of woe ? 
 
 Kisses light not on poverty's pale cheek, 
 
 Nor soft embraces clasp her form so bleak ; 
 
 When forth by want extreme her form is driven, 
 
 Earth is her couch — her canopy is heaven : 
 
 'Mid all that tempt the child of wealth to roam, 
 
 Where are griefs friends ? ah ! where misfortune's home ? 
 
 OKPAH. 
 
 Seek, mother dear ! thy home of early years ; 
 Oh ! weep not thus, and fresh call forth our tears : 
 Accept the tribute of a filial heart ; 
 We have been one, and wherefore should we part ? 
 
 NAOMI. 
 
 Alas, my daughters ! therefore do I mourn, 
 That ye in youth are friendless and forlorn ; 
 The long subdued, long tried, and broken heart, 
 Sees little here from which it could not part ; 
 But, when affliction lights on untried youth, 
 How stern, how sad, is the unwelcome truth !
 
 A DRAMATIC POEM. 11 
 
 Oh ! how it chills the warm aspiring soul, 
 
 Checks the fond plan, and rising hopes controul, 
 
 Chains the light step, the cheek's soft roses fades, 
 
 Dims the bright eye, and earth's glad prospect shades ; — 
 
 But how I roam ! how long is sorrow's lay ! 
 
 Time flies, and we must part ; then let us pray. 
 
 (They kneel,) 
 
 Supreme One ! hear 
 The breathings of an aching heart ; 
 
 The spirit's prayer, 
 That feels Thy keen afflicting dart. 
 
 Alas ! stern death 
 Has torn my dearest friends away ; 
 
 Their darting breath 
 I fondly watch' d from day to day — 
 
 Ah ! then, could grief 
 And sorrow's agonizing wail 
 
 Obtain relief, 
 And bid retiring hope prevail ? — 
 
 Could burning tears, 
 And anguish that the spirit tried, 
 
 Move heaven's bright spheres, 
 Those fondly-lov'd ones had not died. 
 I will not paint the last drear scene ; 
 Yet now, methinks I sit beside 
 Those dear ones, who so fond had been, 
 And felt death could indeed divide : 
 And when, with grief I cannot tell, 
 The parting glance I sobbing gave, 
 And breath' d a sad, a last farewell,
 
 12 NAOMI. 
 
 They came and bore them to the grave. 
 There are, who wish my coming doom 
 May not more sad, more blighting be ; 
 Alas ! can grief one form assume 
 That has not been survey'd by me ? 
 And now, my spirit stands erect, 
 Life's desolating ills to bear ; 
 And to preserve from keen neglect, 
 Young hearts, I offer up my prayer. 
 Yes, in this parting hour, this time of need, 
 Thou, orphan's Friend ! for these, for these, I plead : 
 Life with its thousand paths before them lies ; 
 Hope forward looks, then in the bosom dies ; 
 Alas ! can they whose every stay is gone, 
 By all neglected — in the world alone — 
 Can they, with calm reflective choice, decide 
 On paths that inexperience never tried ? 
 Then oh ! guide Thou ! — direct their youthful feet, 
 In virtue's sacred path, to joy's retreat ; 
 Watch o'er their helpless state, their steps attend, 
 And though all others leave, be Thou their Friend ; 
 And when we meet again, (for here no more 
 May we together worship and adore) 
 Oh may it be where life's dark ills are o'er ! 
 
 (They rise, weeping.) 
 
 And now farewell ; once more I'll kiss those brows, 
 And those smooth cheeks, so pale with stifled woes : 
 Weep not, nor deem earth's sweetest pleasures fled ; 
 Around the thorn the brightest tints are spread ; 
 Excessive anguish oft real joy precedes ;
 
 A DRAMATIC POEM. 13 
 
 Humility's low vale to honour leads ; 
 Go, be the kindness ye have lov'd to shed 
 On me, and on the dear departed dead, 
 Return'd to you, why linger now — the heart 
 Shrinks from the last embrace as from a dart ; 
 Yet vain this agony of grief, we sever — 
 Perhaps for some few years — perhaps for ever. 
 
 ORPAH. 
 
 My mother ! dear, unchanging, faithful one ! 
 How shall I miss thy gentleness of tone, 
 Thy tender soothing glance, thy kind fond air ; 
 The world is cold, such kindness is not there ; 
 1*11 seek the early scenes I long to view, 
 Be every blessing thine, adieu, adieu. 
 
 (She leaves them.) 
 
 NAOMI. 
 
 And thou, my daughter, wherefore linger now ? 
 Before her idol gods will Orpah bow ; 
 My path henceforth must be a path of woe, 
 Then wherefore, gentle being, wherefore go ? 
 
 RUTH. 
 
 In joy my heart may waver, not in grief ; 
 When storms rise high I ask not earth's relief : 
 Then, strength proportion'd to my task is given, 
 That energy of mind which comes from heaven. 
 The world may sternly crush a mortal frame,
 
 14 NAOMI. 
 
 Take liberty and life, blight purest fame ; 
 But far beyond its puny power to bind, 
 Is that undying spark, the lofty mind ! 
 Let the proud scorn, let power its sceptre shake, 
 The wicked triumph, all the world forsake- 
 Serenely wrapt in its own conscious worth, 
 It has a peace which is not of this earth, 
 And on the mean, the proud, the base, the vain, 
 Looks down with pity, rather than disdain : 
 Too rais'd its hopes beyond this changing sphere, 
 To prize their favor, or their hate to fear ; 
 To think, to speak, to act, above their power, 
 Nerve the high soul to meet life's darkest hour. 
 Hear then my fix'd resolve— nor seek to change 
 The purpose of my heart, so fondly strange : 
 Where'er thou goest, with fair or blighted name, 
 'Mid poverty or wealth, 'mid scorn or fame, 
 In want or plenty— happiness or woe, 
 Or path bestrewed with each, I'll with thee go : 
 Thy lot, thy people, and thy God be mine ; 
 Nor death itself shall part me from thy shrine ; 
 For where thou liest in the arms of death, 
 Shall my last resting be— words are but breath : 
 But oh ! may He who reads my inmost soul, 
 Each wavering impulse of my will controul, 
 And with kind love, or judgment, deal with me, 
 As I perform, or slight, my vows of love to thee.
 
 A DRAMATIC POEM. 15 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 Scene — In Bethlehem. — Naomi, Ruth, Citizens. 
 FIRST CITIZEN. 
 
 Is this Naomi ? Oh how sadly chang'd, 
 Since here in youth with bouyant step she rang"d ; 
 Grief then indeed can alter ! See, her cheek 
 Has that expression which can volumes speak : 
 Corroding sorrow marks that lofty brow, 
 Tells in her eye a lengthen'd tale of woe ; 
 More eloquent than words is there express" d 
 The spirit's conflict, and its dread unrest — 
 Is this Naomi ? 
 
 NAOMI. 
 
 Cease to call me so ; 
 Now call me Mara, for a heavier blow 
 Than earth can give, has laid my fond hopes low. 
 Full of earth's joys I left my early home ; 
 Stripp'd of those valued treasures I return ; 
 What cloud hangs o'er the scenes once bright and fair ? 
 To me they are no longer what they ivere ; 
 All nature seems with gentle plaint to mourn, 
 And with low wail to welcome my return : 
 Where are her peerless beauties ? and oh ! where 
 The young companions that I lov'd, so dear ? 
 Strange looks are round me, wherefore did I come ? 
 These arc not those I lov'd, this is not home !
 
 ]G NAOMI. 
 
 CITIZENS. 
 
 Naomi dear ! 
 We are the lov'd, the loving still ; 
 
 But anguish drear 
 Can clothe all objects as it will : 
 
 Youth's ardent fire 
 Has vanish' d from these alter'd eyes, 
 
 And conflicts dire 
 May seem to cloud these sunny skies- 
 
 They are the same, 
 But we no longer what we were ; 
 
 For what can tame 
 The gayest heart, like heavy care ? 
 
 Still you shall find 
 We are not thus so chang'd in heart, 
 
 But true, and kind, 
 As when we saw thy steps depart ; 
 
 And let us how 
 Meekly before Jehovah's throne, 
 
 And breathe a vow, 
 To live to Him, and Him alone : 
 
 And o'er the past, 
 Oh, let oblivion's mystic veil 
 
 Be gently cast, 
 For what can deepest grief avail !
 
 A DRAMATIC POEM. 17 
 
 PART THIRD. 
 
 Scene — Cornfield. — Ruth qleaninq. 
 RUTH. 
 
 Nature ! calm soother of my troubled mind, 
 
 Abroad with thee I leave all cares behind : 
 
 When anguish rises far above control. 
 
 And there is tumult in my harrow'd soul, 
 
 I hasten from the busy haunts of men, 
 
 To thy green fields, or lone secreted glen : 
 
 And when I look upon thy clear blue sky, 
 
 Hear thy untiring streams, when rushes by 
 
 That inmate of thy haunts, the mountain bee — 
 
 What are earth's tumults and its cares to me ? 
 
 Oh, when I stand alone amid thy scenes, 
 
 Sweet thoughts, I fain would cherish, fill my dreams ! 
 
 Thoughts that can nerve me for each coming woe, 
 
 And bid my too warm spirit meekly bow. 
 
 Oft as I've view'd from some far distant hill 
 
 The mingled scenes of human good and ill, 
 
 The dusty paths, pale features worn with care, 
 
 The grief worn look of anguish or despair, 
 
 The gaiety that smiled, assumed by art, 
 
 Some spirit thus has communed with my heart — 
 
 " How soon will that tumultuous scene be calm ! 
 
 Hush'd in the tortured breast all dire alarm — 
 
 Listless the busy hand — the active tread 
 
 Still — for exertion is not witli the dead :"
 
 18 NAOMI. 
 
 Then has my heart replied — " How vain is care ! 
 Teach me, Thou Great Supreme ! my lot to bear ; 
 To say in every change beneath the sun, 
 i Thy will — not mine, Almighty God, be done' !" 
 
 PART FOURTH. 
 
 Scene — Cornfield.— Boaz and Reapers seen at a distance. 
 
 BOAZ. 
 
 Bounteous Bestower of all earthly bliss ! 
 How fair, how beauteous, is a scene like this ! 
 The seasons of the year have roll'd along, 
 "Winter's dark storm, and summer's radiant sun ; 
 And man's more changeful heart has felt the gloom 
 Of heavy grief — the light of pleasure's bloom ; 
 When storms and tempests veil'd these sunny skies, 
 Oppression's children felt dark fears arise — 
 Look'd to the future with a shuddering dread, 
 And steep'd with tears of grief their humble bed ; 
 Now joy, warm, heartfelt, eloquent and deep, 
 Bids them in silent adoration weep. 
 Oh Thou, who giv'st so bounteously to me, 
 Instruct my heart to set the captive free —
 
 A DRAMATIC POEM. 19 
 
 To cheer the sad — the penitent to raise, 
 
 And wake in sorrow's breast the song of praise. 
 
 (To the Reapers.) 
 All hail ' be yours the sacred peace of heaven ! 
 
 REAPERS. 
 
 God's choicest blessing to our lord be given ! 
 
 BOAZ. 
 
 Who is yon damsel, with that gentle mien ? 
 So meek — yet stately ; lofty, though serene ; 
 She looks not one inured to labor's toil ; 
 Her eyes are eloquent, and in her smile 
 There is a chaste refinement, soft, and pure : 
 What brings her here such labor to endure ? 
 
 REAPERS. 
 
 'Tis Moab's daughter ; she, who left her home, 
 
 To cheer Naomi's solitude, so lone ; 
 
 In her sad withered heart sweet hope to pour, 
 
 And watch beside her in affliction's hour ; 
 
 For her she toils with unremitting zeal ; 
 
 Mirth's jocund laugh, and mocking love's appeal, 
 
 Claim not her notice ; and there's something there 
 
 That daunts the rudest, in that form so fair ; 
 
 Aw'd by the virtuous glance of her meek eye, 
 
 Folly is silent when her steps draw nigh — 
 
 Shrinks from the worth, that high esteem inspires — 
 
 Blushes with conscious meanness, and retires.
 
 HO NAOMI. 
 
 BOAZ TO RUTH. 
 
 Hear, gentle woman ! thou whose heart hast known 
 
 Keen sorrow's stings, and poverty forlorn ; 
 
 Seek not in other fields, but here abide ; 
 
 He led thee here, who is the orphan's Guide ; 
 
 And think not He will leave thee ; no, the hand 
 
 Shall lead the still, that pointed to this land. 
 
 RUTH. 
 
 Ah ! why should one so desolate and lone 
 Claim thy regard ? I'm needy and unknown ; 
 A stranger, distant from my native home. 
 
 BOAZ. 
 
 On noble spirits, strangers have a claim ; 
 
 Thou hast a higher right ; thy virtuous fame — 
 
 Thy deep affection, changeless, high, and pure — 
 
 The fortitude with which thou canst endure — 
 
 Thy rectitude of heart — thy alter' d state, 
 
 Demand attention from the good and great : 
 
 And thinkest thou, that virtues, purely bright, 
 
 Can by adversity be hid from sight ! 
 
 No ! generous self-denying deeds, like thine, 
 
 Through mists of woe, and circumstance will shine ; 
 
 And He alone, who gave thee lofty sense, 
 
 Thy filial piety can recompense ; 
 
 He will reward thee ; and in after years, 
 
 When sorrow's children read thy tale of cares,
 
 A DRAMATIC POEM. 21 
 
 And of the high reward, which even here 
 Attends the good in virtue's bright career — 
 Hope ! radiant hope, shall bid their hearts be free, 
 And they shall learn to combat life like thee ; 
 Through toil and danger, vigorously press, 
 And wait His blessing who delights to bless. 
 
 RUTH. 
 
 Oh ! in dark sorrow's desolating hour, 
 What gentle balm, regard like thine can pour ! 
 Knew but the great the bliss they can impart, 
 By words like thine to lone affliction's heart, 
 How would they turn from grosser joys away. 
 To shed o'er spirits tried, love's cheering ray : 
 Thus hast thou done, and may an orphan's prayer 
 Claim a reward for thy unpurchas'd care. 
 
 PART FIFTH. 
 
 Scene — Naomi's Cottage.— Naomi, Ruth. 
 NAOMI. 
 
 Dear gentle Ruth ! my comforter and stay, 
 
 Where hast thou toil'd ? Who pointed out thy way ? 
 
 May every blessing on his spirit rest, 
 
 Who shews such kindness to a heart distrest.
 
 9>% NAOMI. 
 
 KTJTH. 
 
 His name is Boaz — 
 
 NAOMI. 
 
 Hour of blameless pride ! 
 Thy wealthy patron is to us allied : 
 I see a train of favors round thee press ; 
 A rich reward thy noble heart to bless : 
 My gentle daughter ! long by sorrow tried, 
 Thy happy days shall yet in pleasure glide ; 
 Not always shall the meek in spirit bear 
 Oppression's load, and sorrow's mound of care : 
 Toil on ! and He who bids thee yet endure, 
 Reward thy virtues, and thy bliss secure. 
 
 PART SIXTH. 
 
 Scene — Near Ike gates oflhe city. — Naomi's Kinsman, Boaz, Naomi, 
 Ruth, Elders of the city, &c. &c. 
 
 BOAZ, 
 
 (To the Kinsman.) 
 
 Naomi turns to seek her native land 
 At stern oppression's merciless command ; 
 Our duty bids us offer her relief : 
 Wilt thou her land redeem ?
 
 A DRAMATIC POEM. 23 
 
 KINSMAN. 
 
 I will ! her grief 
 Of me may ask no more — 
 
 BOAZ. 
 
 Then be it mine 
 To bid beclouded merit brighter shine ! 
 The meek, unchang'd companion of her woe, 
 Through fairer, brighter scenes, with me shall go ; 
 Virtues like hers demand a high reward ! 
 Mine the blest lot, her future life to guard ; 
 To scatter plenty o'er their alter' d path, 
 And place the crown of joy upon the brow of worth. 
 
 ELDERS, CITIZENS, &C. 
 
 Bring sweetly scented flowers 
 And weave a garland wild, 
 
 And twine it round her temples, 
 Who once was sorrow's child. 
 
 The mist, the cloud, the shadow, 
 Are pass'd in light away, 
 
 And she whose heart was dreary, 
 Is joyous now, and gay. 
 
 'Tis just that rank and honor 
 
 Should crown the brow of worth : 
 
 That earth's best tinted flowers 
 Should blossom in her path.
 
 24 NAOMI. 
 
 Go, bid affliction's daughters 
 Her noble deeds admire ! 
 
 And to recompense like hers, 
 By deeds like hers aspire. 
 
 Say there is a high reward 
 Reserved for such in heaven ; 
 
 A fadeless and enduring crown, 
 "Which shall to such be given. 
 
 END OF NAOMI.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS 
 
 PIECES.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 TO GENIUS 
 
 TO THE HON. MRS. TJ. 
 
 TO THE REV. DR. BACON, ON CEASING TO 
 
 PREACH 
 TO MRS. e'eSTRANGE 
 THE WIDOW'S HOME 
 TO A EADY 
 A DESTINY 
 RESENTMENT 
 THE SISTERS 
 
 TO THE REV. DR. BACON, ON HIS BIRTH-DAY 
 THE VIOEET 
 PHRENO-MESMERISM 
 SONG 
 
 THE SEA SHORE 
 MY DEAR NATIVE HOME 
 TO A MONTHLY ROSE 
 TO AUTUMN 
 ON VISITING THE TOMB OF COWPKR
 
 28 CONTENTS. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF THE BRIDE OF THE HON. 
 WM. COWPER 
 
 HANKINSON 
 
 ON HEARING A MOST INTERESTING DESCRIP- 
 TION OF AN ORDINATION 
 
 TO MY MOTHER, ON CHRISTMAS-DAT 
 
 MY FATHER'S GRAVE 
 
 TO ON HER BIRTH-DAY 
 
 ON VISITING THE HATES OF HOUGHTON AND 
 HOEKHAM 
 
 ELIJAH AT THE BROOK OF CHERITH 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF MISS S E
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 TO GENIUS. 
 
 " From heaven descends 
 The flame of genius to the human breast, 
 And love, and beauty, and poetic joy, 
 And inspiration. ********** 
 
 There doth beauty dwel] ; 
 There most conspicuous — e'en in outward shape, 
 Where dawns the high expression of a mind. 
 
 ************* 
 
 This — gems, nor gold, nor culture can bestow, 
 But God's own power, when first His hand unseen 
 Imprints the secret bias of the soul." 
 
 Ahenside's "Pleasures of the Imagination." 
 
 Thou spark of immortality ! 
 
 Thou ray of light divine ! 
 By gifted spirits worship'd more 
 
 Then Afric's richest mine ; 
 Thine is the form of elegance, 
 
 The fair expansive brow ; 
 The keen bright glances of the eye 
 
 Thou only canst bestow.
 
 30 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 The thrilling voice of joyousness, 
 
 Deep feeling's holy stream, 
 Bright views, high hopes, imaginings, 
 
 Thou, only thou, canst dream ; 
 The music of thy spirit high, 
 
 Thy elevating sense, 
 Breathes till the heart lies motionless 
 
 Aw*d by thine eloquence. 
 
 Thy graceful hand hath glided o'er 
 
 Bleak deserts, chill and wild, 
 Till earth with classic loveliness, 
 
 Hath like a garden smiled ; 
 How weary were our journeyings 
 
 To future's unknown shore, 
 Hadst thou not strew'd with flow'rets sweet, 
 
 The rugged path- way o'er. 
 
 The dull monotony of life ; 
 
 Its paltry hopes and fears : 
 Its crowd of weak nonentities ; 
 
 Its heavy mound of cares — 
 Would bow my spirit to the dust, 
 
 Could I not leave the throng, 
 And steal one brief, but blissful glance, 
 
 Of thee, thou child of song ! 
 
 The wood, the wild, the stream, the deep ; 
 
 Creation's fairest scenes — 
 Had not been loved as they are loved, 
 
 But for thy pure bright beams :
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 31 
 
 The gothic arch, the bending saint, 
 
 Madonna-like and fair, 
 Had never fix'd the raptur'd gaze, 
 _Hadst thou not wander'd there — 
 
 Enough ; all sounds, all forms, all hues, 
 
 All high exalted thought — 
 The beautiful, the fair, the grand, 
 
 Are with thy presence fraught. 
 Angelic one ! and is thy path 
 
 With roses scatter'd o'er ? 
 Is there a spirit blent with thine, 
 
 Wrapt secrets to explore ? 
 
 While thy bright emanations spread, 
 
 To bid the haughty bow, 
 Erect in thy nobility, 
 
 Oh genius ! what art thou ? 
 An exile from thy native land ; 
 
 A diamond under-ground ; 
 A lonely beacon on the cliff, 
 
 To cheer a dark profound. 
 
 Yet would'st thou yield thy burning tears, 
 
 Thy agony intense, 
 For all that pamper'd wealth could give, 
 
 Devoid of lofty sense ? 
 No, rather o'er the bleakest wild 
 
 With every fond hope riven, 
 Would'st thou thine own bright lot pursue, 
 
 Thou harbinger of heaven.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 Thy aristocracy of mind 
 
 Can ne'er be bound to earth ; 
 It ever seeks the radiant clime, 
 
 "Whence first it had its birth ! 
 It onward, upward, ever tends 
 
 To love's occult abode ; 
 Nor rests till it has found its home, 
 
 The "bosom of its God:" 
 Thy thorny path, thy steep ascent, 
 
 May wild and rugged be, 
 But oh ! thy faintest smile impart. 
 
 And I will follow thee ! 
 
 TO THE HON. MRS. U. 
 
 "And thou, my youthful muse's early friend, 
 In whom the human graces all unite ; 
 Pure light of mind, and tenderness of heart ; 
 Stoop to my theme, inspirit every line, 
 And teach me to deserve thy just applause." 
 
 Thompson. 
 
 Dear lady, thou wilt deign to bend 
 
 Attention to thy humble friend ; 
 
 And hear, with kindness' gentle ray, 
 
 All that a grateful heart would say : 
 
 For sweet remembrance bids me speak 
 
 "With heart-felt warmth, (though words are weak,) 
 
 Of thee ! whose kindly generous hand 
 
 First led me o'er the rugged land ;
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 33 
 
 Whose judgment clear, whose taste refined, 
 Mark'd out the path-way for my mind ; 
 Who, when imagination's light 
 First on my glowing spirit shone, 
 Pointed to virtue's noble height, 
 And told what virtuous deeds had done : 
 Who first the door of hope unclosed, 
 Remov'd the barriers that oppos'd 
 My ardent love, my thirst intense, 
 For learning's purity and sense ; 
 Who, her sweet mysteries unrol'd, 
 And bade them burst upon my eye, 
 With all the bliss she ever told, 
 In lofty strains of minstrelsy ; 
 While thou her precepts more endear'd, 
 By kindness that my spirit cheer 'd — 
 Yes ! when the puerile, proud, and weak, 
 Bade burning tears roll down my cheek ; 
 Or made me for a moment feel 
 The frown of pride, the cool appeal — 
 Yet — when they mark'd thy kind regard 
 To me, (O what a sweet reward !) 
 Turn'd, as such mindless beings can, 
 With every changing breeze of fate, 
 And sought with smiles the flame to fan, 
 Which they had rudely scorn'd of late : 
 They echoed but the feelings kind, 
 Which were the inmates of thy mind ; 
 The praise that shall more valued be. 
 Than all their heartless praise by me ;
 
 34 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 And though I never more may pace, 
 
 With volant step thy halls of grace ; 
 
 Or gaze, with passion-lighted eye, 
 
 On beauty's soft and varied dye ; 
 
 Or list, with rapture's thrilling ear, 
 
 The converse I delight to hear — 
 
 Nor time, nor change, can ever part 
 
 Their memory from my grateful heart ; 
 
 Sweet scenes, kind looks, kind words are traced 
 
 Too deeply there to be effaced ; 
 
 They are as sunlight mid a storm ; 
 
 As blushing rose by rugged thorn ; 
 
 As fragrance on a whirlwind borne — 
 
 Perchance, I love such joys too well, 
 
 As from their soul-entrancing spell, 
 
 To some less lov'd, less flattering scene, 
 
 I've woke as from a fever dream, 
 
 And wish'd those joys had never been ; 
 
 Yet would not, when the gloom was past, 
 
 Those flow'rets from my path- way cast ; 
 
 Or loose one richly valued gem, 
 
 For earth's best prize — a diadem ; 
 
 So dearly lov'd, so priz'd by me, 
 
 The smiles of worth and dignity. 
 
 Ah ! though a wisely just decree 
 
 Bids me the prop of others be, 
 
 My nature's clinging as the vine, 
 
 And ever seeks a resting shrine ; 
 
 And though my present path must lie 
 
 'Mid rugged scenes and turmoils rude,
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 35 
 
 For joy's soft avenue I sigh, 
 For peace and holy solitude, 
 For quiet calm, for joys refin'd, 
 And converse of the high in mind. 
 Enough* ! e'en now I hear thee say, 
 " Where'er is traced thy devious way, 
 By power divine thy steps are led, 
 And thou mayst not the flat change ; 
 How many languish there to tread, 
 And 'mid such joys as thine would range: 
 Go, well perform thy destin'd task ; 
 And wisdom, more than pleasure seek ; 
 Then shall the joy thou now would'st ask 
 Be thine, for virtue crowns the meek :" 
 Such, lady kind, the gentle words 
 Which thou hast ever breath' d to me ; 
 My heart their purity records, 
 And what thou'dst have me, strives to be. 
 
 TO THE REV. DR. BACON, 
 
 On his ceasing to preach at Hunstanton, in Norfolk, in which parish he ministered 
 forty years, these lines are most respectfully inscribed, by a family who gratefully 
 acknowledge their obligations to him as a minister, and as a kind condescending 
 friend. With these lines they present their earnest prayers for his happiness, that 
 he may on eaith continue to enjoy the rewards of genius and worth, and hereafter 
 " the crown of glory which fadeth not away." 
 
 He's gone from the station where oft we have met him, 
 Refresh'd as he breath'd consolation around ; 
 
 Oh ! cease to inquire why thus we regret him, 
 
 Or mourn for lost pleasures, so calm, so profound.
 
 36 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 Oh ! knew you his talents, his sober devotion, 
 Compassion, and fervor, and eloquent zeal, 
 
 You'd sigh with the hearts that evince this emotion, 
 And join in the grief they ought not to conceal. 
 
 On warm admonitions, so fervent, so thrilling, 
 
 When pointing our souls to the mansions on high ; 
 
 His converse in friendship for ever instilling 
 A lofty ambition to live for the sky — 
 
 On happiness felt in the calm gentle pleasure, 
 
 We've shared 'neath his roof, where amusements refin'd, 
 
 Where all that attends upon learning and leisure, 
 Gave feast unto reason, and zest to the mind — 
 
 On these would we think ; they are isles in life's ocean : 
 Bright streams that o'er life's barren wilderness flow ; 
 
 Calm sunny-tinged waves in a sea of commotion ; 
 A cordial infused in the chalice of woe. 
 
 And think not, kind pastor, thy flock will forget thee, 
 Or deem thy past favors as trivial or small — 
 
 No, grateful remembrance shall bid them regret thee, 
 And plead a reward from the Bishop of all.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 37 
 
 LINES 
 
 Supposed to be addressed to Mrs. L'Estrange, on the anniversary of her nativity, 
 by the children of the school established by her ; and these lines are most respect- 
 fully inscribed to this amiable patroness of early education. 
 
 Kind lady ! on this blest auspicious day, 
 We would our warm, though humble thanks reveal, 
 And wish thee all that eloquence would say, 
 Where lips can utter what the heart can feel. 
 
 But though we cannot with grace so speak, 
 Thou wilt not scorn the homage we can pay, 
 Nor turn disdainful from the blushing cheek, 
 Or timid glance of childhood's bright arch eye. 
 
 Thy fostering care has bid us seek the light, 
 Brighter than glowing suns of worth untold — 
 The knowledge that can guide our footsteps right, 
 Through earth's vain scenes, and to a better world. 
 
 Oh ! may our future lives attest how well 
 We prize the great advantages now given ; 
 And may thy future blessings also tell 
 Such virtuous deeds are recompensed by heaven ; 
 
 That they aid not so much the public weal, 
 Who to seek distant suppliants love to roam ; 
 As those whose pure and well directed zeal 
 Discharges best the sacred claims of home. 
 
 c
 
 38 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 Thy noble house for long, long years have shed 
 Upon our favour'd poor, bright shining rays ; 
 And that its every path with flowers be spread — 
 Thy lowly, grateful flock, with fervour prays. 
 
 THE WIDOW'S HOME. 
 
 * 
 
 Silent, lonely, and sad, is that desolate home, 
 
 Where the soft vows of love re-echoed her own ; 
 Where the sweet ringing voices of children were heard, 
 
 Exultingly hailing the flight of the bird. 
 On the cold grassy pillow of earth rests his head, 
 
 Whose soul-thrilling orbs such effulgence have shed : 
 Hush'd the eloquent voice, which instill'd in her heart 
 
 A rapturous feeling no words can impart, 
 As he sat with his young ones entwin'd round his knees, 
 
 And strove with a parent-like fondness to please : 
 Ah ! where rests he now ? in that hallowed spot, 
 
 Where all that once was, is for ever forgot ! 
 And his widow looks round on the scenes he held dear — 
 
 On the flowers he train' d but to bloom on his bier — 
 On the arbour he lov'd ; and the leaves as they fall, 
 
 Bring back his last moments, hush'd grief to recall ; 
 From the room where he lov'd from the world to retire, 
 
 The young and the happy, surrounding their sire — 
 Where, enraptur'd, he spoke of the regions on high — 
 
 Where tears are all wip'd — where their fountain is dry :-
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 39 
 
 From that room, where an altar of worship was rais'd ; 
 
 Where unseen by the world, with rapture they prais'd ; 
 The fond ones she loves so intensely, are gone, 
 
 And weeping, she kneels at that altar alone ! 
 Her children ! where are they ? may none linger here ? 
 
 No ! oppression forbids with accents severe : 
 Those lov'd ones, whose sportive and innocent mirth 
 
 Was joy to that household, and light to that hearth, 
 Are scatter'd like leaves o'er the desolate waste, 
 
 And may not return to scenes of the past. 
 Some are struggling with woe on the billows of life ; 
 
 And dark is the storm of the weary heart's strife : 
 Yet some are the stay of the widow's lone heart ; 
 
 Giving solace which robs pale grief of its dart ; 
 A solace which breathes gentle peace to the soul, 
 
 And whispers, " oh ! mourner, thy anguish control ! 
 No cup with affliction is ever so fraught, 
 
 But one drop of love on its brim may be caught ; 
 No spirit so wounded, but mercy can bind ; 
 
 No soul ever left, that bow'd meekly resign'd ; 
 And soon will the storm of affliction be past ; 
 
 Hush'd in silence, eternal sorrow's loud blast. 
 When the bright orb of day shall have ceas'd to lead forth 
 
 The fast fleeting seasons o'er life's chequer'd path — 
 When the pale silver moon, in serene azure car, 
 
 The bright tract of glory shall traverse no more — 
 When the last flower fades — when the lay of the bird 
 
 On the dew-spangled bower no more shall be heard — 
 Oh ! ere then shall ye meet on a peaceful shore, 
 
 Where anguish, and weeping, and parting are o*er.*' 
 
 c2
 
 40 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 TO A LADY, 
 
 On playing the beautiful movement in the overture to " Oscar and Malvina." 
 
 " Romantic sounds ! such is the bliss ye give, 
 That heaven's bright scenes seem bursting on the soul ; 
 With joy I'd yield each sensual wish, to live 
 For ever 'neath your undefiled control." 
 
 H. K. White. 
 
 Plat it again ! All sweet and holy thoughts — 
 
 And sunny feelings — and celestial hopes — 
 
 And visions of the beautiful and good — 
 
 And scenes of taste — and eloquence — and love 
 
 Wake in my heart whene'er its echoes fall. 
 
 Hark ! how the soft notes thrill, like murmuring streams, 
 
 Or pattering rain on sun-lit olives. 
 
 Play it again ! The lapse of darken'd years — 
 
 The tears — the trials, and the blighted hopes — 
 
 The heart's keen struggle in the hour of woe — 
 
 The death-bed parting, and the lingering look — 
 
 The throb of anguish — and the cold despair 
 
 Which follows anguish — all, all these and more — 
 
 Much more than words can paint from memory's page 
 
 Are wip'd as they had never, never been. 
 
 I am again a child, a dreamy child — 
 
 A worshipper of nature's woods and wilds — 
 
 And rocks, and dells, and flowers, and gentle streams — 
 
 Of scenes of peace, of quiet, and repose — 
 
 Of wisdom's precepts, and devotion's lore — 
 
 Of all that lifts the soul 'bove meaner joys — 
 
 Of all that raises its intense desires
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 41 
 
 Up to the source and centre of all good. 
 
 Play it again ! The hopes of early youth — 
 
 The ever-present inmates of my soul, 
 
 Since it first learnt to think — hopes that have " grown 
 
 E'en with-my growth, and strengthen'd with my strength — " 
 
 Burst through the clouds of apathy, and shine 
 
 With soft reflected light, as once they shone. 
 
 High they may be ! and such if they were known, 
 
 Might raise the smile — the bitter smile of scorn ; 
 
 And therefore have I veiFd them from the world — 
 
 Laugh'd with the gay, and trifled with the weak ; 
 
 But sounds like these can break the galling chain, 
 
 That long hath bound my captive spirit down, 
 
 And once again my heart indulges hope — 
 
 It yet may gain its fond and high desire. 
 
 A DESTINY. 
 
 " Now let her rest in peace ! those hours are past; 
 
 And with them all the agitating train, 
 
 By which hope led the wandering cheated soul ; 
 
 Wearied, she seeks repose, and owns at last, 
 
 How sighs, and tears, and youth are spent in vain, 
 
 While languishing, she mourned in folly's sad control." 
 
 Mrs. Tighe 
 A gentle being once I saw, 
 
 With features fair, and flexile form, 
 
 And that soft air we so adore, 
 
 As seldom found amid life's storm ;
 
 42 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 And her young mind 
 Was soaring far above her state 
 
 To joys refined; 
 Fostering with care that warm disdain, 
 That will not own youth's day-dreams vain, 
 Nor shrink beneath an adverse fate : 
 And since all pure and holy deeds 
 Became the lofty rank she lov'd, 
 She stored her mind with learning's seeds, 
 And through rich flow'ry mazes rov'd, 
 
 Without a bound ; 
 And spirit, though so gay and free, 
 
 Somewhat profound ; 
 For her mix'd character display'd 
 Those tints of moral light and shade 
 That in the gifted oft we see ; 
 And thus in solitude unknown, 
 Without congenial minds to bless, 
 Her spirit gain'd a deeper tone, 
 Than those which common minds possess : 
 
 She strove to be 
 Lofty in deed — in act refined— 
 
 From error free — 
 High in that rectitude of heart, 
 That will not from its duty part — 
 Humble in bliss — in woe resign'd: 
 Alas ! and can the soaring mind 
 Thus upward bend each earnest thought, 
 And yet the heart's fond visions bind 
 To objects with less beauty fraught ? 
 Ah no ! she lov'd
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 43 
 
 With passion blameless as her heart : 
 
 Deep and unmoved — 
 Yet blissful in its wild excess ; 
 For passion has the power to bless, 
 Till sage-like reason points the dart : 
 Illusion veil'd her youthful eye — 
 But oh ! twas pure and fair and bright, 
 Such as in worlds beyond the sky 
 Might enter 'mid the saints of light. 
 
 But sorrow came 
 And tore that mystic veil aside ! — 
 
 Quench' d hope's bright flame : 
 No common pang caus'd anguish deep, 
 Or bade that broken spirit weep ; 
 'Twas woman's wounded pride. 
 'Twas sad to view her altered cheek 
 (That once had bloom'd) so pale and wan — 
 The eye, that could so fondly speak, 
 Dim, and its vivid flashes gone ; 
 
 And tresses bright, 
 That play'd like tendrils in the breeze, 
 
 Hid from the light ; 
 Rich summer garbs now laid aside, 
 As if to mock all human pride : 
 But untried youth such lesson needs, 
 To tell how vain, how false, how weak 
 The fairest, brightest beauties are — 
 That brilliant eye, and glowing cheek, 
 Must cloud and fade 'neath anxious care — 
 
 That all below,
 
 44 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 However fair in youth's bright dream 
 
 Is blent with woe — 
 That only when the heart lies still, 
 Obedient to its Maker's will, 
 Then only is the soul serene. 
 She sunk as sinks the early flower 
 Beneath retiring winter's eye, 
 And those who watch'd her parting hour, 
 Ask'd if it were not hard to die ; 
 
 She answer'd, " No ; 
 I would not wish to linger now 
 
 'Mid scenes of woe : 
 For He who gave my soul the sense 
 Of pleasure exquisite, intense, 
 Bids me in resignation bow. 
 I feel, I know, this erring heart 
 Has wander'd from His perfect way ! 
 But could the skilful hand of art 
 Bid my receding spirit stray 
 
 Along the past, 
 And o'er life's ever-troubled wave 
 
 Bid sunbeams cast 
 Their radiance for a longer time ; 
 I would not ask the favor mine, 
 To shun that quiet couch, the grave : 
 The bursting heart is throbless there — 
 The swollen eye forgets to weep — 
 The aching brow is free from care — 
 And noiseless, dreamless is its sleep." 
 
 Blest grave ! woe's friend
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 45 
 
 Hath hallow'd thee with love divine — 
 
 Bade hope ascend 
 Beyond thy deep sepulchral gloom, 
 To world's of never-fading bloom— 
 Th' immortal spirit's native clime ! 
 
 RESENTMENT. 
 
 " Pride and wrath would sometimes call themselves a becoming greatness of spirit, 
 
 but he hath a greater soul who can treat inferiors with all gentleness, and hath 
 
 learned to neglect and forget supposed affronts and injuries as mean and little 
 
 thing, which deserve no special notice," 
 
 Watts on the Passions. 
 
 When insult bids resentment rise, 
 Ask, " Is the offender weak or wise — 
 
 Of passions mild or strong ?" 
 The Hon check'd his rising fire, 
 When one so mean provok'd his ire, 
 
 And calmly pass'd along. 
 
 Nor censure, if a flashing eye, 
 Or hasty act, or quick reply 
 
 To thee be sometimes given ; 
 As varied as earth's loveliest hue, 
 The human mind is varied too ; 
 
 And that was form'd by heaven.
 
 46 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 I've seen full many a puerile mind 
 By nature placid — calm — and blind 
 
 To what would wound another ; 
 Whose lamb-like features seem'd to cry, 
 " How warm are you ! how meek am I ! 
 
 Why not your feelings smother ?"- 
 
 Press the same hand that aim'd the dart 
 To fester in your troubled heart ; 
 
 Then with good breeding smile ; 
 And turn, and falsely, darkly speak, 
 With gentle voice and aspect meek, 
 
 Of those who feel your guile. 
 
 And I have seen the ardent heart, 
 From all its hopes and interests part, 
 
 Rather than treachery bear ; 
 And he, who ancient pages reads, 
 Well knows what high and noble deeds 
 
 That warmth obscured there. 
 
 And there are spirits, high and pure, 
 That can the insult keen endure 
 
 As virtue tells they ought ; 
 Who, good for evil can return, 
 As duty bids, be mild or warm, 
 
 In act — and more — in thought.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 47 
 
 I would not be that first of minds, 
 For all the wealth the diver finds 
 
 Beneath the deepen 'd sea : 
 The next has zeal his worth that shades ; 
 And'genius' early blossom fades, 
 
 And causes misery. 
 
 Spirit of meekness and of might ! 
 Guide thou my erring footsteps right — 
 
 Bid me from tumult cease : 
 And of the last this truth impress, 
 " Her ways are Avays of pleasantness, 
 
 And all her paths are peace." 
 
 THE SISTERS. 
 
 They lov'd as only orphan sisters love ; 
 The free — the blest — the shelter'd and the gay 
 Know not the fervency of love like theirs — 
 And why ? They were in the bleak world alone : 
 Left in its rugged paths to struggle on 
 Without a guide, a guardian, or a friend, 
 Save Him, the Father of the fatherless ; 
 And one, whose only heritage was love — 
 That deep, unfathom'd fount — a mother's love. 
 They were each other's world, though so unlike ; 
 One — passion-fraught, and high, and wildly fond ; 
 A wrapt idolater of nature's charms ;
 
 48 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 A dreamer of most sweet imaginings ; 
 
 And yet, withal, a being most unfit 
 
 To enter into worldly wisdom's plans, 
 
 Or tread unerringly her destin'd path : 
 
 And one — meek, lowly, patient of control ; 
 
 Whose gentle nature dared not to rebel, 
 
 Or wish her chequer'd path but what it was ; 
 
 As clings the tendril to some stately prop, 
 
 She clung to her companion, sister, friend ; 
 
 And she watch'd o'er her as pure love can watch, 
 
 Striving to shield her from the storms of life ; 
 
 She could not bear one ruffling blast should blow 
 
 O'er that young spirit : oh ! if love could shield 
 
 The soul from agony— the eye from tears— 
 
 That well-lov'd sister had not griev'd or wept ! 
 
 Mock not such glowing love, ye coldly proud ; 
 
 To feelings fervent, exquisite as theirs, 
 
 Is link'd a sufFring bliss they would not give 
 
 For all your cold, inanimate repose. 
 
 Not always had affliction's iron grasp 
 
 Bound those two hearts together. They had dwelt 
 
 In one sweet home of happiness ! The light 
 
 Of love, like a bright beam of heaven, shone there, 
 
 And happy hearts met on one household hearth, 
 
 'Mid all the wordless eloquence of love 
 
 And poetry of home. 
 
 Oh I would linger one brief moment there, 
 
 And whisper what it was. A lovely cot, 
 
 Of meek and gentle beauty ; city noise, 
 
 Loud turmoil's busy roar, or folly's laugh,
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 49 
 
 Broke riot its holy, intellectual peace : 
 
 The buds of spring, the summer's fervent glow, 
 
 Autumn's lov'd peace, and winter's solemn storms, 
 
 Came there, untainted, unprofan'd, and pure : 
 
 Beyond one soft green field uprose the church ; 
 
 That meek, gray, shadowy mansion of repose ; 
 
 Decaying grandeur on its portals sat, 
 
 And gothic beauty fix'd the raptur'd gaze — 
 
 Meet object for a mind of solemn cast 
 
 To gaze on with reflection, and to love : 
 
 Around, were other spires, whose sabbath bells 
 
 Call*d like the voice of angels to the sad, 
 
 To leave vain grief, and seek relief in prayer : 
 
 Hills, robed in veil-like mist, lay distant far : 
 
 A soft meek hamlet nestled amid trees ; 
 
 And a clear river lighted by the sun, 
 
 Sparkled, and shone, and glided softly by ; 
 
 To whose sweet soothing murmur ocean roll'd 
 
 A spirit-stirring bass, sublimely grand : 
 
 Vales, plains, and mounts, and hedge rows tip'd withbrier, 
 
 Made up the lovely view. O ! that were mine 
 
 A faithful sketch of that dear valued scene ! 
 
 Where'er I turn it meets my mental eye ; 
 
 Amid the dense dark shadows of the world, 
 
 It comes like April sunshine to my heart ; 
 
 Sweeps o'er my spirit with subduing power, 
 
 And makes me purer, happier, and more glad. 
 
 Here then they dwelt, and every year imbued 
 
 Their minds with holier beauty. They had gaz'd 
 
 On nature, till their souls partook of her.
 
 50 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 Ah ! little knew they of a heartless world- 
 Its paltry pride — its empty trifling joys — 
 Its thistle-down opinion, which can change 
 With every breath that varying fortune gives : 
 Of this they little knew ; it ne'er had chill'd 
 One pure emotion, or one purpose shook. 
 Seclusion fann'd the vestal fire within, 
 And less of earth than heaven, their fond hearts fill'd. 
 He rightly judg'd, who happy ignorance deem'd 
 Better than wisest grief. — They were thus blest. 
 But o'er that cheerful hearth grief cast its gloom, 
 And eyes were brighter with intense distress 
 Than they had been in joy : a mildew pass'd 
 O'er the young blossoms of those sisters' hearts ; 
 Hush'd was the light glad laugh ; and silence laid 
 His icy finger on the faded lip : 
 From false friends alter' d looks they proudly turn'd, 
 And clung to nature with a purer love ; 
 Amid dark woods — by streams, and brooks and flowers, 
 Shed on each other's neck hot burning tears ; 
 And when the trace of feeling pass'd away 
 Turn'd back and smil'd as gaily as before. 
 Oh ! what will not the proud young spirit bear 
 While others dream not of its agony ! 
 The delicate of mind alone can soothe 
 The freshly wounded spirit, and of such 
 There are hwifew, like roses on a wild ; 
 That there were such, they knew ; spirits that shed 
 A halo of rejoicing round their gloom, 
 And made bright sunny footpaths in the wild —
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 51 
 
 The light of heaven's own peace be in such souls ! 
 And praise that mortals cannot breathe be theirs ! 
 Misfortune bade them part, and forth they went, 
 Each to the stranger's home — far, far apart ! 
 Oh ! what avails it of those days to speak ! 
 Enough they felt, as hearts like theirs, do feel 
 The chilling influence of a world like this ; 
 When with a senseless, mindless sneer, it scorns 
 Pleasures beyond its earth-bound power to give. 
 Long dwelt they thus ; till every mental ray 
 Seem'd faded, and the fount of love dried up — 
 And then they met again. The weariness, 
 The lassitude, the gloom, the galling weight 
 "Which bow'd their spirits to the dust pass'd off; 
 Tears exquisitely sweet wept off the load, 
 And then the soul look'd forth and shone again, 
 As smile the heavens when heavy storms are gone. 
 Oh! again they "liv'd and lov'd together," 
 And gladly shar'd stern cares, to be so blest. 
 Fear whisper'd oft of separating hours, 
 And homeless hearts, and griefs oppressing gloom. 
 If pass'd that dreaded and portentous storm, 
 Or if it burst in sorrow on their head, 
 Thou dark veil'd future tell ! *
 
 52 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 TO THE REV. DR. BACON, 
 
 On the Anniversary of his Nativity, September 19th. 
 
 " Voila V ete passe !" 
 
 "What ! though the summer-months are gone, 
 And much that Phoebus beam'd upon, 
 
 Is pass'd away ; 
 Yet few, methinks, can gaze in vain, 
 On gentle Autumn's calmer reign, 
 
 And splendour of decay. 
 
 Much has it Spring can never boast, 
 And much that was in Summer lost 
 
 To meditation's eye ; 
 For where the bud and blossom were, 
 The richly luscious fruits appear, 
 
 For bright — a tranquil sky. 
 
 And thus it is with thee, whose years 
 Have travell'd long this vale of tears, 
 
 Now nobly crown' d 
 With rank, with honour, and with fame, 
 That might attend a nobler name, 
 
 Not always found. 
 
 And thus to youthful minds it speaks, 
 " Who earnestly true wisdom seeks, 
 Is sure to find :"'
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 53 
 
 And who, with spark of heavenly fire, 
 Would not to the high aim aspire 
 Of souls refin'd ? 
 
 O may -thy bright example cheer 
 Us onward in the high career ! 
 
 And may this day, 
 For years to come, be glad and bright ! 
 And when eclips'd, by heavenly light 
 
 Pass, blest, away ! 
 
 THE VIOLET. 
 
 Bleak "Winter was passing away to the north ; 
 
 With light mirthful step, gay Spring coming forth ; 
 
 I wander' d to view the soft buds seek the light, 
 
 And steal the first violet hid from the sight. 
 
 I pass*d through green valleys with blithe joyous thought, 
 
 But found not the meek one I fondly had sought, 
 
 'Till turn'd far away from the daisy-deck'd path, 
 
 I saw it lie mingled with dust on the earth : 
 
 A moment I sigh'd o'er that beautiful gem, 
 
 Thus torn by rude hands from its moss-cushion'd glen ; 
 
 From all that makes charming lone nature's retreat. 
 
 And cast for the vulgar to tread 'neath their feet : 
 
 A moment I sigh'd, then a voice in my heart 
 
 Breath' d — "Such is the mind that feels sorrow's keen dart — 
 
 The mind that high talent has fitted to share 
 
 D
 
 54 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 All joys that are lofty, and gentle, and fair; 
 Yet bow'd by misfortune, is blended with those 
 Who know not its pleasures, regard not its woes." 
 What boots it to speak of high talent unknown ? 
 'Tis a delicate rose in the wilderness thrown ; 
 The music that Memnom's soft lyre sends forth ; 
 The sunbeam that crosses a desolate path ; 
 The violet torn from its lovely retreat ; 
 And mingled with dust 'neath the traveller's feet. 
 
 PHRENO-MESMERISM. 
 
 " Many subjects are interesting, and afford much satisfaction in their investiga- 
 tion, but there can be no such subject so interesting as the mind itself. Most men 
 agree that the brain is connected with the mind. Dr. Doddridge taught that the 
 soul was seated in the brain. Woolaston, in his Religion of Nature Defended — 
 Grove, in his System of Moral Philosophy, taught the same thing, and Bishop 
 Browne, in his Procedure of the Understanding, argues that the brain is the organ 
 of the mind." — Dr. Epps. 
 
 The grand march of intellect travels apace, 
 
 Wake, lofty ambition, and join in the chase ; 
 
 Tell how the unlearned, and learned convene, 
 
 To gaze on a novel and popular scene. 
 
 The vulgar with rapture its wonders rehearse, 
 
 The well-inform' d strive the dense cloud to disperse — 
 
 And what is the scene ? Not enough, when awake, 
 
 That reason its part may consistently take ; 
 
 But man may command, and the powers of mind 
 
 Like engine of steam, to caprice he can bind :
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 55 
 
 And reason, that glorious light of the soul, 
 
 Must speak at his touch, as a circle would roll, 
 
 Or a loadstone attract beyond self-control. 
 
 Nor here ends the wonder — the mid throb of pain 
 
 Lies still "heath the touch of sleep's magical chain ; 
 
 And the tears we have shed at lov'd ones' distress, 
 
 No more on the cheek of pale agony press. 
 
 Bright land of fair visions — of beauty refin'd — 
 
 Dear Greece, fondly titled the realm of the mind — 
 
 What art thou to this ? can we more to thee bow ? 
 
 Oh Plato ! oh Socrates ! what are ye now? 
 
 I confess what a Gall, and a Spurziem have said, 
 
 And talented Epps, on the form of the head, 
 
 I strictly accede to ; and when I have sought 
 
 To follow their track in the region of thought. 
 
 To that Being I've knelt, who talent and sense 
 
 As He judges best, can withhold or dispense ; 
 
 Sarcasm and scorn for compassion resign'd, 
 
 And inwardly turn'd with a self-abas'd mind. 
 
 But to me, this new science, the farther it goes, 
 
 Like a shadow at sun-set, more marvellous grows. 
 
 Ye learned and clever, well form'd for the task, 
 
 We anxious inquirers, your diligence ask ; 
 
 The falsehood or truth, 'tis important to know 
 
 Of a science that's said so to palliate woe : 
 
 If collusion its basis — great be its fall ! 
 
 If truth — may it brightly illumine us all ! 
 
 Like the bright orb of day may its radiance roll, 
 
 From the soft balmy south to the northernmost pole ! 
 
 n 2
 
 56 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 SONG, (Air, Grammachree.J 
 
 At morn a rose on nature's breast 
 
 It's radiant petals spread, 
 But evening view'd its faded vest, 
 
 On nature's lap lie dead : 
 The Summer sun may brightly gleam 
 
 Those faded blossoms o'er, 
 But sun, nor shade, nor ether's stream, 
 
 Their beauty shall restore. 
 
 Like that fair rose at early morn, 
 
 Is youth's untroubled heart — 
 Like that at eve, when rudely torn 
 
 By sorrow's piercing dart ; 
 Hope's vivid ray and pleasure's sound 
 
 May flit that bosom o'er ; 
 But will they heal the cureless wound 
 
 Of sorrow's festering sore ? 
 
 No ! peace may shed its soothing ray 
 
 Where resignation bows, 
 And faith undying joys convey 
 
 That only sorrow knows ; 
 But that warm throb beyond control, 
 
 Which beats but to adore, 
 Is pass'd for ever from the soul, 
 
 And can return no more !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 THE SEA SHORE, (Hunstanton.) 
 
 I gaz'd upon the evening sky ; 
 
 The west had lost its crimson dye ; 
 
 And all the gorgeous tints of day 
 
 Look'd dim through gloaming's soft'ning ray ; 
 
 And buoyant health was in the balm 
 
 Of summer evening's breeze so calm : 
 
 Before me spread the voiceless deep, 
 
 Like infant in untroubled sleep : 
 
 Around me, in confusion wild, 
 
 Rude heaps of rocky fragments piled : 
 
 The cliff, its lofty brow uprais'd, 
 
 So stern, majestic, and sublime, 
 
 As if with awful pride it gaz'd 
 
 Upon the fallen wreck of time : 
 
 And on the ocean's breast afar, 
 
 The beacon glitter' d like a star : 
 
 Above a brighter ray look'd down, 
 
 And o'er the whole a richer gem 
 
 Than those, compos'd night's radiant crown, 
 
 And stars were her bright diadem. 
 
 I gaz'd, and o'er my spirit came, 
 
 A blissful calm I would not give 
 
 For all that earth would valued name, 
 
 Or all for which mean spirits live. 
 
 The anxious care — the vexing strife 
 
 That mar our sweetest pleasures here, 
 
 Fled — and a hope with solace rife 
 
 Call'd from joy's cell the chrystal tear.
 
 58 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 " Life is yon sea,*' some spirit said, 
 
 " Hearts' blighted hopes those fragments wild ; 
 
 Hope, yon tall cliff, with towering head ; 
 
 And love, the beacon sweetly mild ; 
 
 The moon and stars, that deck yon skies 
 
 Are angels' ever watchful eyes : 
 
 And thou — how false — how weak thy pride — 
 
 An atom on that ocean cast, 
 
 Impell'd by every rising tide — 
 
 Victim of passion's varying blast : 
 
 "Were there no better world than this, 
 
 "Well might the high in spirit mourn ! 
 
 But far beyond, are realms of bliss, 
 
 Life's wearied mariner's safe bourn : 
 
 So guide thy bark while sailing here, 
 
 That thou mays't safely anchor there." 
 
 "MY DEAR NATIVE HOME." 
 
 The mist is on thy mountains, my dear home ! 
 Autumnal sunlight, and autumnal calm ; 
 Near thee is heard the robin's thrill so lone — 
 Dew is on thy buds — in thy peace is balm — 
 Sweet Autumn joys are here, but ah ! they lack thy charm. 
 
 Oh might I dream ! one moment fondly dream 
 I was again thy inmate, dear, dear cot ! 
 And be again in spirit what I've been, 
 A spell-bound worshipper of that sweet spot, 
 Which time, nor change of scene shall from remembrance bk
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 59 
 
 Dear treasured home ! where is the joyous child 
 Whose gay voice echoed in each well known-room — 
 Whose light step bounded o'er the heathy wild, 
 Careless of what might be her coming doom ? 
 She is not what she ivas ; the light is blent with gloom. 
 
 Say, shall I whisper how her heart has borne 
 The chilling contact with a heartless world ? 
 No ! silence better suits a bosom torn, 
 Enough that hope and fear her thoughts have hurl'd 
 r ar from the pure bright dreams her early hopes unfurl'd. 
 
 I will again be free ! come memory, come ! 
 List to the music of remember' d lays ; 
 Turn with me to the haunts of early home ; 
 To me there is a charm in autumn rays, 
 ["hat in my soul can wake sweet thoughts of other days. 
 
 I see thee now, my home ! so wild — so free — 
 Thy lattice, open to the rising sun — 
 The flowers I planted, and the well known tree 
 Which was my canopy, ere tasks begun — 
 Ind there the books I lov'd, and thoughts I could not shun— 
 
 And thy gray mossy walls, meek house of prayer, 
 And gothic porch, and well remember'd stile, 
 And devious footpath, and the distant air 
 Of dear lov'd voices in that hallow' d pile, 
 ^nd gentle, unseen looks, and fond affection's smile.
 
 60 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 May I dream on ! and may the orb of day, 
 As once on Gibeon's height, his course suspend ; 
 May wither'd hopes again feel young love's ray : 
 From earth return — my father — and my friend ? — 
 No ! reason breaks the spell — the blissful dream must end ! 
 
 And wherefore did I dream it ? but to call 
 From long untroubled founts hot burning tears — 
 To free my spirit from its earth-bound thrall — 
 To ease its mound of heavy, heavy cares, 
 And agonizing weep o'er scenes of early years. 
 
 They say I must resign thee — that my path 
 'Mid other scenes is trac'd : — well be it so ! 
 'Tis vanity to love one spot of earth ! 
 And well I know my duty is to bow 
 To Him who wisely rules and orders all below. 
 
 Then will I weep no more — but nerve my soul 
 To follow duty's track — wild fancy's spell 
 Bind me no more beneath thy fond control ! 
 No more of early hopes and visions tell — 
 I give thee up, my home ! dear treasured spot, farewell ! 
 
 Hunstanton, Sep. 1843.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 61 
 
 TO A MONTHLY ROSE 
 
 IN THE GARDEN OF MY DEAK NATIVE HOME. 
 
 Sweet rose, I go to other scenes ! 
 What now athwart my bosom streams 
 
 I may not tell : 
 Oh ! for the last, last blissful time, 
 I linger by this bloom of thine ; 
 
 Sweet rose, farewell ! 
 
 Thy tress-like boughs may others bind, 
 With common skill, or taste re fin' d, 
 
 Which rises ever ; 
 But thou canst never, never be 
 To them, what thou hast been to me, 
 Oh ! no, no, never ! 
 
 I loved thee, when a happy child, 
 With fervour deep, and pure, and wild; 
 
 And in youth's hour, 
 When fancy all electric came, 
 And thrill'd my bosom with its flame — 
 
 When cloud and shower, 
 
 And Winter's chilling gloom was found 
 On all above, below, around, 
 
 Still thou wert there — 
 Like kindness, when pierc'd bosoms bleed — 
 Like succour, in the day of need, 
 
 The heart to cheer.
 
 6£ MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 Stern natures deem it hard to find 
 A charm that can thus firmly bind 
 
 My love to thee : 
 But those who leave a cherish'd home, 
 For scenes and ties they have not known, 
 
 Will scornless be : 
 
 Remembering tree, or plant, or flower, 
 Or mossy walk, or shady bower, 
 
 A friend appears ; 
 When circled by the guiltless scenes, 
 And ardent hopes, and fairy dreams 
 
 Of early years. 
 
 I do not love the sickly mind 
 That grief in duty's task must find ; 
 
 Yet cold the heart, 
 And dead to glory's fond appeal, 
 That leaving home disdains to feel 
 
 'Tis hard to part. 
 
 Since all I deeply love must be 
 Blent with an immortality — 
 
 A life divine : 
 I'll fondly think when flower and tree 
 Shall flush into variety * 
 
 Thou wilt be mine. 
 
 * "And all this leafless and uncoloured scene 
 Shall flush into variety again." 
 
 Cowper.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 63 
 
 TO AUTUMN. 
 
 Thotj'kt come in thy loveliness, dearly lov'd one ! 
 
 With soft touching beauty, and soul-thrilling tone — 
 
 With mist on thy mountains, and soft beaming light — 
 
 And gloaming's sweet hour, and star-spangled night — 
 
 Thy deep holy quiet so breezeless and still — 
 
 Thy leaf scatter'd forest and robin's lone thrill — 
 
 Thy last cherish'd bud — thy last song of the grove, 
 
 And the splendid decay of all that we love. 
 
 I mourn not for Summer — I weep not for Spring ; 
 
 The syren art thou, that my pleasures can bring : 
 
 Though fading thy beauties, more dear to my heart, 
 
 The lesson of wisdom they sweetly impart. 
 
 I love the old ruin, so hoary and gray, 
 
 Its mantle of ivy, and robe of decay — 
 
 The moss-cover'd path- way, and time-rifted spire — 
 
 The half wither'd trees, lit by Sol's dying fire — 
 
 The old gothic church, and the desolate hall, 
 
 O'er whose once regal pomp time spreads his dark pall 
 
 As I gaze, a spirit thus breathes in my heart — 
 
 " As fading, as fleeting, oh ! mortal thou art ! 
 
 The roses that wither and die on thy path, 
 
 An avenue strew to the soft couch of earth ; 
 
 The goddess of beauty whose gay reign is o'er, 
 
 The herald that treadeth thy passage before, 
 
 She breathes in the soft dying cadence of air — 
 
 ' Leave, leave, gentle sister, the valley of care, 
 
 For time will diminish the light of thine eye ;
 
 64 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 And chill aspirations so fervent and high, 
 
 The signet of sorrow impress on thy brow, 
 
 And leave but a ruin of what thou art now !' " 
 
 Oh lesson most valued ! then more will I bind 
 
 Each power I own to improving my mind ; 
 
 Less fondly adore what is passing away — 
 
 Live more for the mansions that know not decay ; 
 
 And when call'd, on the wings of bright angels I'll come 
 
 To that beauteous region, the spirits' own home. 
 
 ON VISITING THE TOMB OF COWPER, 
 
 IN DEREHAM CHURCH, NORFOLK. 
 
 "A tomb is his on every page, 
 An epitaph on every tongue : 
 The present hours, the future age, 
 For him bewail, to him belong." 
 
 Lord Byron. 
 
 There is a name that cannot die, 
 
 A name that shall be known, 
 Below on earth, above on high, 
 
 In cottage and on throne : 
 
 While hallow'd love can warm the heart, 
 
 While passion's noblest cords 
 Can vibrate to the touch of art, 
 
 And feel the power of words.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 65 
 
 When gentle spirits love no more 
 
 The quiet hearth of home ; 
 And sigh for busy tumult's roar, 
 
 And splendid misery's dome — 
 
 When check*d is daring genius' flight — 
 
 When deaf the ear of taste — 
 When music can no more delight — 
 
 When memory is effaced — 
 
 When piety shall dare proclaim 
 
 There is no Judge on high ; — 
 Then, nor till then, shall Cowper's name 
 
 Unlov'd, unhonor'd die ! 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF THE BRIDE OF THE 
 HON. WM. COWPER, 
 
 AND DAUGHTER OF D. GURNET, ESQ. RUNCTON. 
 
 O'er youth's bright sun of beauty, oh ! how soon 
 
 Come sorrow's tempest and affliction's gloom ! 
 
 Frail, mutable and false is all below ; 
 
 Near founts of bliss, dark gulphs of sadness flow ; 
 
 And all that decks the cheek with rapture's bloom 
 
 Is but a flowery pathway to the tomb. 
 
 What brings such thoughts ? oh ! she, whose very name 
 
 The best emotions of the heart must claim, — 
 
 For virtue speaks in Gurney's spotless name;
 
 66 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 And Cowper's well-lov'd title, dear to fame, 
 
 Attests the sadd'ning and subduing truth. ; 
 
 For low in death are laid the charms of youth. 
 
 The splendid robe — the train — the orange wreath 
 
 Exchang'd for the pale pageantry of death : 
 
 Affection's rapturous glance, and thrilling tone, 
 
 For weeping eyes, and sorrow's stifled moan. 
 
 Low lies in death, a loved, and loving bride : 
 
 Approach, and trembling gaze, thou child of pride ! 
 
 Exalted worth, nor love, that doom could flee, 
 
 And what shall ward the blow of fate from thee ? 
 
 We ask not pity from the vacant mind, 
 
 Folly knows not emotion so refin'd ; 
 
 But, we would say, ere guilt your footsteps mar, 
 
 Be good and great, and learn to die like her — 
 
 Like her the needy aid, support the weak, 
 
 And ease the care that lofty spirits break. 
 
 Oh ! not for her, but for the sad we weep ! 
 
 For those she lov'd : her pure and blameless sleep 
 
 "Well might we envy, for the placid tomb 
 
 No terror has for virtue's fadeless bloom ; 
 
 There, like a fair and dearly cherish'd flower 
 
 Rests her meek form till judgment's solemn hour ; 
 
 Then, like a rich exotic, doom'd to dwell 
 
 Awhile from home, shall seek its native dell, 
 
 And join — for ever join, the hearts she loved so well.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 67 
 
 HANKINSON. 
 
 Mouen, harp of Judah ! for the skilful hand 
 
 That swept thee with such elegance and art, 
 
 Bidding the energies of mind expand, 
 
 Touching the finest feelings of the heart, 
 
 Is lifeless now ! The melody of sound — 
 
 All light and shade of beauty, pass him by, 
 
 As sunbeams tremble o'er the resting ground 
 
 Of what once was, but is not. Oh ! to die 
 
 Is solemn in the lowliest, but to see 
 
 The empty casket of a gem so pure, 
 
 Whose soft light gleam'd on thousands — this, to me, 
 
 Is saddest proof that earth cannot endure — 
 
 That all, most worthy of our high esteem, 
 That makes us feel there is a better state, 
 Scarce shines, ere it has faded like a dream, 
 Leaving but mortal dust of what was great ! 
 Oh, no, I speak unjustly ! they may die 
 Who have so honoured life ; but the bright deeds 
 That shew they're fitter for a world on high, 
 Shall never pass, till memory recedes. 
 
 Mourn, harp of Judah ! for thyself, not him ; 
 Who now shall call thy heavenly music forth 
 With touch so exquisitely chaste ? Oh sin ! 
 Thou hast polluted this fair world — but worth 
 And genius can so beautify — so raise 
 Our fallen nature — and can so refine
 
 68 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 The purity of spirit, that our days 
 May be the foretaste of a holier clime. 
 
 They come, with elevating sense — mid shade 
 
 And weariness, and hollow joys of earth, 
 
 Like ministering angels — till is laid 
 
 The heart in gentle quiet, and the path 
 
 That seem'd so thorny, has undying flowers : 
 
 Such, lost, regretted minstrel, have thy lays 
 
 Been unto me ! from high poetic bowers 
 
 / may not cull a wreath to speak thy praise ; 
 
 But oh ! my spirit exquisitely feels 
 
 That honour should adorn thy early tomb : 
 
 The pomp of marble to the proud appeals ; 
 
 But be the laurel there, which shall for ever bloom. 
 
 ON HEARING A MOST INTERESTING DESCRIPTION 
 OF AN ORDINATION. 
 
 He came ! the youthful candidate for fame — 
 
 Not that, false glimmering mortals fleeting praise ; 
 
 But His, who can the haughty spirit tame, 
 
 And lowly excellence to honor raise, 
 
 And round unhonor'd brows twine bright immortal bays. 
 
 He came — and hearts in countenance most skill'd, 
 His polished gracefulness and worth confess'd : 
 Such lofty virtues his fine features fill'd ; 
 And his pale cheek, and fair high brow express'd 
 Such tales of mental toil — of suffering and unrest.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 69 
 
 And yet the tenderness, the fire of youth, 
 And vivid flashes of a sun-bright soul, 
 And gentle kindness, and ingenuous truth, 
 So softened down the sternness of control. 
 That fancy could a deed of milder acts unrol. 
 
 And with him knelt in that momentous hour, 
 
 The valued friends his love was fix'd upon — 
 
 The guardians of his youth, who pray'd with power, 
 
 And the companions of bright days long gone, 
 
 And she, whose heart and hand would soon be all his own. 
 
 Ah ! there she knelt — that fair enthusiast ! one 
 With eye of softest eloquence, and cheek, 
 Hueless as snowdrops ! till the deep rich tone 
 Of him who loved her, breath'd the words that speak 
 Of lowliness to pride, and courage to the weak : 
 
 And then a rapturous tint— a fervent glow, 
 
 Brief and most lovely, o'er her features stole ; 
 
 And her eye lost expression of all woe ; 
 
 And soft emotions thrill'd her inmost soul, 
 
 Such as no words may paint — no human power control. 
 
 Yet angels might have view'd them ; hearts there are 
 
 So exquisitely pure, that their love, 
 
 Though center'd on an object of earth's sphere, 
 
 Has less of this world than the world above — 
 
 A native of high realms, though destined here to rove.
 
 70 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 'Twas but a moment's weakness ! holiest thought 
 
 Came as her head and lowly spirit bow'd ; 
 
 "With hopes of heaven her gentle heart was fraught ; 
 
 The sacred pageantry, the mingled crowd, 
 
 And all of earth was laid beneath oblivion's shroud. 
 
 And oh ! when softly breath'd that strain sublime, 
 " Come, Holy Ghost, our waiting souls inspire !" 
 Rais*d were Ms thoughts beyond all dreams of time ; 
 And firm resolves, and virtue's sacred fire 
 Glow'd brightly in his heart, and waken' d pure desire. 
 
 And those two gentle hearts were join'd in one ; 
 
 And from the lov'd and good, to them so near, 
 
 They sought their distant heritage alone, 
 
 Far, far from city noise, and splendour's glare : 
 
 It was a soft green spot — their home — and oh, most dear ! 
 
 What was their after fame r oh, ye attest, 
 
 Whose alter'd lives their fervent labors crown'd ! 
 
 Ye, who have listen'd till your souls confess*d 
 
 There was a balm for sorrow's deepest wound, 
 
 In faith that works by love, such as in them was found. 
 
 TO MY MOTHER, ON CHRISTMAS DAY. 
 
 My mother ! 'tis a household day, 
 
 Of home and kindred fame, 
 And I, with thee, would kneel and pray 
 
 Upon " our own hearth stane." * 
 * " Stane "—Scottish.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 71 
 
 Ah ! where is he who loved us both r 
 
 Beside our own church laid ; 
 Far, far beneath the tempest's wrath, 
 
 And sorrow's deepening shade : 
 
 Yet, would I deem he waits beside 
 
 The joys that have beguiled ; 
 And blesses thee, his early bride, 
 
 And me, his orphan child. 
 
 And where is he, whose mirth illumed ! 
 
 Whose rich notes bade us weep ! 
 On stranger lands he is entomb' d 
 
 And rests in dreamless sleep. 
 
 Like sear leaves o'er a desert way, 
 
 Some other forms are strown, 
 Whose voices on this joyous day 
 
 Were blended with thine own. 
 
 And she, to thee, to me, so dear, 
 
 Smiles now 'mid distant mirth — 
 Oh heaven ! her future lot prepare, 
 
 And smooth her early path ! 
 
 Familiar greetings are not here, 
 
 Nor love's remember' d tone : 
 Mother ! the lingering hope and fear 
 
 I'll breath with thee alone. 
 
 E 2
 
 72 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 Come ! let us talk of other days ; 
 
 'Tis Christmas time, you know ! 
 And oh ! the past has gorgeous rays, 
 
 Amid its clouds of woe. 
 
 Ah ! it is told ! the lengthened tale 
 
 Of happy by-gone years ; 
 Till sobbing voices nearly fail — 
 
 Till eyes are steep'd in tears — 
 
 Till thy fond arms are round me thrown, 
 
 And on my brow are prest, 
 The kisses that are thine alone, 
 
 And I again am blest ! 
 
 My mother ! when thy form is laid 
 
 In future's silent path — 
 Mid pleasure's light — 'mid sorrow's shade- 
 Mid weariness of earth — 
 
 The blessings thou so oft hast shed 
 
 Mid joys and griefs severe, 
 Upon thy too-lov'd darling's head, 
 
 Shall haunt my mental ear. 
 
 Like visions of a better land — 
 
 Like quiet to the sea — 
 Like angel music, softly bland, 
 
 Thy words shall come to me. 
 
 Oh ! if I e'er have wished my path, 
 Had roses scattered there — 
 
 If I too well have loved the worth 
 Of hearts too wildly dear —
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 73 
 
 If flattering hopes and blissful scenes, 
 
 I dare not to pourtray, 
 Have lull'd me in Elysian dreams 
 
 Too beautiful to stay — 
 
 If I have waken' d from the spell 
 
 Of fancy's magic power, 
 To sigh a feverish farewell 
 
 To hope's last dying flower — 
 
 Yet, while my eye was wet with tears, 
 
 While anguish thrill' d my breast, 
 The blessings of thy latter years 
 
 Have hush'd my woes to rest. 
 
 And oh ! when Christmas-day shall come 
 
 To me in distant year, 
 I'll think thy blessing's hallow'd tone 
 
 Falls sweetly on my ear. 
 
 1843. 
 
 MY FATHER'S GRAVE. 
 
 My father ! from the cares of earth I come, 
 Awhile to linger by thy last, long home : 
 Not to complain with vain, offending grief, 
 Or seek in burning tears, a solace brief.
 
 74 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 Oh ! no, the light'ning flash, that wildly rent 
 
 My deep affection from its element — 
 
 That sear'd the branch with withering power — yet left 
 
 The leaf to live, though of its stay bereft, 
 
 No longer wakes griefs agonizing thrill ; 
 
 The storm is past ! the low voice breathes " be still :" 
 
 But, when my brow is fever' d — when my heart 
 
 Is sick with mortal strife and hollow art, 
 
 Hither, in thought I turn — and moonlit skies 
 
 And this loved spot, my feelings solemnize — 
 
 Bring back the past, till in a gorgeous dream, 
 
 Thou art to me again, what thou hast been ! 
 
 Again, I lean on thy fond heart for rest, 
 
 And kind, warm kisses, on my brow are prest : 
 
 Our dear loved home (the stranger's dwelling now,) 
 
 Wears its remembered brightness ! and the flow 
 
 Of mingled sounds, peculiar to that spot. 
 
 And words too tender e'er to be forgot, 
 
 And sage-like precepts with reflection fraught, 
 
 That strove to foster my young love for thought, 
 
 Are breathing in my ear ; eyes that ne'er pained, 
 
 Where holy truth, and mental beauty reign'd, 
 
 Beam with affection on thy trusting child — 
 
 Tears break the blest illusion ; and the wild, 
 
 The sad reality of truth, benumbs my heart, 
 
 I feel that crumbling dust, " is all thou art !" — 
 
 That I am left alone, to act my destined part. 
 
 Oh ! then, some angel spirit hovering near, 
 
 Breathes, "sceptic mourner ! wherefore linger here ? 
 
 The desolated beacon-house is dark ! the light
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 75 
 
 That lit it with effulgence, still is bright :" 
 
 Star of my hallowed love ! I turn to thee ! 
 
 As to the sun, the orient devotee : 
 
 Oh blest immortal ! holy spirit ! say, 
 
 Art thou beside me in life's weary way, 
 
 My ministering angel ? oh ! if so, 
 
 My soul is lightened of its load of woe ; 
 
 Strangers know not the heart they praise, or blame, 
 
 In echoed sounds of censure, or high fame ; 
 
 But well its light and shade are known to thee ! 
 
 And what thou'st have me, I would gladly be ! 
 
 Oh ! tell me what my anxious spirit asks — 
 
 Have I with sacred love fulfil' d the tasks, 
 
 Which thou to me resign'd ? Oh ! have I e'er 
 
 Left e'en in thought, the objects of my care ? 
 
 Have I not strove her youthful steps to guide, 
 
 Who was thy latest solace and thy pride ? 
 
 And sought to strew he?- lonely path with flowers, 
 
 Whose love was blent with thine in youth's bright hours, 
 
 And aid bestow'd where grief its tempest pours ? 
 
 ! if I e'er should falter — if my soid 
 
 Should lean to joy's voluptuous control, 
 
 When folly spreads her soul-seducing snare — 
 
 Or woes oppressive, tempt me to despair — 
 
 When cold distrust of motives, pure and high, 
 
 Call tears of haughty anguish to my eye — 
 
 Then let thy holy precepts, guardian kind, 
 
 Recur with swiftness to my erring mind ! 
 
 Bid me perceive each dark and latent snare ! 
 
 Whisper, fond heart, "of specious ills beware !"
 
 76 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 Like holy angels, hover by my side, 
 
 And o'er each thought — each word — each deed preside. 
 
 Then should our path with pleasure's flowers he strown, 
 
 Or there, affliction's thorny plant be grown — 
 
 Life's trials o'er, and nature's faults forgiven — 
 
 The smile that cheer'd us here, shall welcome us in heaven! 
 
 TO ON HER BIRTH-DAY. 
 
 Dear one ! I greet thee ! and could language tell 
 The deep affection of thy sister's heart — 
 Draw pure affection from love's sacred well, 
 Then might I whisper, " how beloved thou art," 
 And say what I would have thee. On this day, 
 For many, many happy years to come, 
 May pleasure's rainbow-tints adorn thy way, 
 And love's soft pinions shield thee from life's gloom 
 
 Peace be with thy young spirit ! heaven's own light 
 Within thy bosom — that directing ray 
 Which can thy youthtul footsteps guide aright ; 
 Bow to its dictates — for its guidance pray ! 
 Then shall thy mind be hallow' d, and the glare 
 Of earth's best joys shall wither in thy view, 
 And thou shalt/ee/ what shadows mortals are, 
 And while earth-bound, what shadows they pursue.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 77 
 
 ! such I would not have thee ; raise thy mind 
 To higher, holier objects. There is joy 
 
 In virtue's sacred path — a bliss refin'd, 
 That time, nor grief, nor rancour can destroy. 
 
 1 would that nature's charms should prove to thee, 
 In solitude and sick'ning cares of earth, 
 
 What they have ever been, and are to me ; 
 A chrystal river by a dusty path ! 
 
 The gentleness, the purity, the peace, 
 That like a summer cloud surround her form, 
 Will lead thy thoughts to joys that cannot cease, 
 And teach thee what a bubble is pride's scorn : 
 O ! therefore, let the morning's misty air, 
 And moonlit evening, find thee oft alone, 
 Musing amid her haunts — it will prepare 
 Thy wounded spirit for its coming gloom : 
 
 Will tell earth's favor is a flickering beam 
 Of April brightness, which, the faintest shades 
 Can banish ; — an illusive gorgeous dream, 
 That cheats the sleeping vision, and then fades : 
 I would the gems of mind should be thy care ; 
 Chaste learning's depthless founts, thy calm delight : 
 Then should the proud reject thee with a sneer, 
 Pure joys will bloom within, they cannot blight.
 
 78 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 What ! though they slight thee with a mindless scorn ; 
 
 The noble — the refin'd — the good shall be 
 
 In gloom and sunshine, quietness and storm, 
 
 The soother of thy cares — thy company. 
 
 I may not always linger by thy side, 
 
 To teach — to soothe — to animate — to cheer ; 
 
 Time will our clinging, fragile barks divide, 
 
 And we apart, our destined griefs must bear. 
 
 Then, when thy spirit faints, wilt thou not cast 
 One backward glance to these, our happy days ? — 
 Think of our early love — of precepts past — 
 Of young affections spent in hallow'd praise — 
 Of what I'd have thee be — of gentle words, 
 Breathed to infuse fresh courage in thy heart — 
 And as remembrance those past hours records, 
 Look up, and pray for strength to act thy part ? 
 
 Yes, when thy spirit faints ; for steep the path 
 Of self-denying virtue ; but high fame 
 And glory shall illume the brow of worth ! 
 While careless, gaudy folly walks with shame : 
 And, trust me, love thy sinking hopes shall stay ; 
 And sanctified affliction bid thee soar 
 Above earth's minor cares ; and time's last day 
 Shall find us joined again — to part no more.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 79 
 
 ON VISITING THE HALLS OF HOUGHTON, 
 AND HOLKHAM. 
 
 TO THE KIND FRIENDS "WHO CONFERRED ON ME THIS 
 PLEASURE, THESE LINES ARE INSCRIBED. 
 
 Scenes of enchanting beauty ! I must leave 
 All that in you is charming ; light and shade — 
 Pictures and statues — grottoes — bowers, and streams : 
 But never shall the glowing colors fade, 
 Which ye have given to my fondest dreams ; 
 Thought shall recall ye oft ; then wherefore should I grieve ? 
 
 Yes ! fancy's hand shall lead me here again ; 
 And such deep fascination has the power 
 Of high imagination — and so dear 
 To gentle hearts, the pleasing social hour, 
 In which we tell the past to hearts sincere, 
 That leaving what we love, is robb'd of half its pain. 
 
 Our life indeed is chequered ; and 'tis said, 
 The beam of brightness and the cloud that lowers, 
 Appointed are by Him who rules above ; 
 Whose eye surveys all times — whose hand strews flowers 
 Or thorns, as best may wake remembrance of His love : 
 Dark sceptic ! thou mayst smile, but such is my blest creed.
 
 80 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 And through the coming years — if such are mine — 
 If gay or saddened — often will I turn 
 In memory's annals, to the friends that made 
 This bright spot in my destiny ; and thought shall burn 
 With gratitude to those, who lit the shade 
 Of heavy, heavy cares, with kindness so benign. 
 
 My eye with gazing wearies, and my heart, 
 Worn out with blest emotions, would alone 
 Think o'er what here hath charm'd me. "Where, oh ! where'' 
 It asks, " are those who here placed talent's throne ? 
 The sculptor — artist — poet?" and a tear 
 Of humbled pride declares, " on earth, they've now no part." 
 
 Then, gifts the most ennobling — gifts that raise 
 The lowliest to the highest — that can write, 
 Bright deeds on time's firm parchment, and reveal 
 To visible conception, all the might 
 And power, and passion, lofty bosoms feel, 
 Cannot avert the doom that fixes mortal days ! 
 
 Great Power divine ! All- seeing One ! that knows 
 The passionate idolatry of heart, 
 With which I love the treasures of the mind, 
 The glowing tints that talent can impart — 
 Impress upon my soul, that all refin'd 
 Is but a scanty rill, that from thy fountain flows :
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 81 
 
 Teach me, how vain are hopes that centre here, 
 However bright and soaring : that when past 
 All sublunary visions — when the spire 
 And " solemn temple" sink 'neath time's stern blast, 
 And chill'd in mortal hearts, is genius' fire — 
 I may to halls not made with hands, be heir. 
 
 ELIJAH AT THE BROOK CHERITH. 
 
 Child of grief, with sorrow bent 
 'Neath Jehovah's chastening stroke, 
 View Elijah's banishment, 
 At lone Cherith's babbling brook ! 
 
 Hark ! I hear no footsteps' sound ; 
 See no lamp his eve illume ; 
 All is silence most profound — 
 All is solitude and gloom. 
 
 Awful forests darkly frown ; 
 Naked rocks uprear the head ; 
 Is Elijah's couch of down ? 
 No ! the grass must be his bed ! 
 
 Yet Elijah's joy is fervent, 
 Now all other streams are dried ; 
 Lord, 'tis well, thy faithful servant 
 Should by mercy's fount reside !
 
 82 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 Child of sorrow ! hast thou never 
 Found, when all bright streams were gone, 
 One brook Cherith flowing ever 
 By thy desert path so lone ? 
 
 Yes, I own, with deep emotion, 
 Such has ever flow'd for me, 
 When shut up the gates of ocean, 
 When despair no stream could see. 
 
 Still it flows, and whilst the fountain 
 Whence it flows can be descried ; 
 May it flow, but when forgotten, 
 May brook Cherith, too, be dried. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF MISS S- 
 
 Oh death ! while thousands mix in folly's train, 
 Who seem to reason almost made in vain, 
 Oh ! could'st thou find no victim for thy dart, 
 But one so rich in nature and in art ? — 
 None less endow'd with all the powers of mind ? 
 No form less graceful, beauteous, and refined ? 
 Compassion weeps and calls the deed unkind.
 
 iMISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 83 
 
 Who would not wish the countless charms to live, 
 Which beauty, worth, and education give ? 
 Must they not mourn beside her early bier, 
 To whom those graces, and those gifts are dear ? 
 And yet, since here the high aspiring soul 
 Meets constant storms, its virtues to control ; 
 So much to dim its heaven-born radiant light, 
 Its powers to crush, its purest hopes to blight, 
 To chill the fervour of its seraph love, 
 And bid it languish for the joys above — 
 Shall we not own the solemn mandate right, 
 Which calls the spirit to the realms of light ? 
 Shall we not hail her transit to that sphere, 
 And meekly pray that we may join her there ?
 
 MSTP dDIP OTMEHiBM 
 
 The Most Noble the Marchioness of Cholmondeley, Houghton Hall 
 
 1 copy, £1. 
 The Most Noble the Marquis of Cholmondeley 1 copy, £2. 
 
 Algar, Mrs. Rudham 
 Anonymous 
 
 Anderson, Mrs. Burcham 
 Adams, Mrs. R. 
 Bentinck, Lady Mary 
 Bentinck, Miss 
 
 Billing, Mrs. Holt 2 copies 
 
 Branford, Mrs. Brisley 2 copies 
 
 Branford, J. B. Esq. Oxwick 
 Bates, Mrs. March, Cambridgeshire 
 Bacon, Rev. Dr. Parsonage, Fring 
 Bacon, Mrs. ditto 
 Bullen, T. Esq. Lynn 
 Bayes, Mrs. F. Lynn 
 
 Buck, Rev. J. P. Great Snoring 2 copies 
 
 Burcham, Miss, Heacham 
 Benlis, F. Norwich 
 Bignold, J. Esq. ditto 
 Bircham, Mrs. Hempton 
 Butcher, Mrs. Raynham 
 Ball, Mrs. Broomsthorpe 
 Bland, Mr. Rudham 
 Blythe, Mrs. Massingham 
 Blythe, Mrs. W. ditto 
 Beck, J. E. Esq. Harpley 
 Burrel, Mrs. Flitchan 
 Bullen, Miss, Lynn 
 G. Bly, Mrs. Sedgeford 
 Burlingham, Mrs. Lynn 
 Boucher, Mr. Wisbeach 
 Bishop, Mrs. ditto
 
 84 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 Blackburn, Mrs. Wisbeach 
 
 Barnes, Mr. Burnham 
 
 Beards, Mrs. F. 
 
 Beeston, Mrs. Burnham 
 
 Bloomfield, Mrs. Warham 
 
 Buck, Mrs. Stifikey 
 
 Buck, Mrs. Langham 
 
 Brereton, Mrs. R. J. Blakeney 
 
 Boyce, Miss, Wiverton 
 
 Bacon, Mr. T. Cley 
 
 Bacon, Miss, Fakenham 
 
 Barnard, Mrs. Lynn 
 
 Brereton, Mrs. J. Brinton 
 
 Brereton, Mrs. S. Briningham 
 
 Bond, Rev. R. Briston 
 
 Blake, Rev. W. Thurning Hall 
 
 Blythe, Mr. G. Sedgeford 
 
 Campbell, Miss, Hougbton Hall 
 
 Cresswell, Mrs. Lynn 
 
 Carter, Mrs. Lynn 
 
 Carter, Miss, Hunstanton 
 
 Clowes, Mrs. Snettisham 
 
 Calthorpe, Mrs. Stanhoe Hall 
 
 Cork, Miss, Creak 
 
 Cook, Mr. W. Norwich 
 
 Case, Miss, Testerton 
 
 Chambers, Mrs. Colkirk 
 
 Chadd, Sir Charles 
 
 Chamberlain, Miss 
 
 Coe, Mr. Sedgeford 
 
 Collins, Mrs. G. Wisbeach 
 
 Cottom, Mrs. Wisbeach 
 
 Cross, Rev. S. Leverington 2 copies 
 
 Crofts, Miss, Wells 
 
 Copeman, Mr. Wells 
 
 Cotterill, Mrs. Blakeney 
 
 Crofts, Miss, Blakeney 
 
 Cremer, Rev. Beeston
 
 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 85 
 
 Case, jun. Mr. C. Toft Trees 
 
 Case, Miss, Toft Trees 
 
 Cortello, Miss, London 
 
 Codd, Eev. C. Letheringsett 
 
 Cooper, Esq. F. N. Dereham 
 
 Dun-ant, Mt: William, Sandringham 
 
 Davey, Capt. R. N. Ingoldisthorpe 
 
 Davy, Miss, Heacham 
 
 Dasbarrough, Mrs. Dersingham 
 
 Dewing, Mrs. Creak 
 
 Daw, Mr. B. Syderstone 
 
 Dent, Miss, Wisbeach 
 
 Dersley, Mrs. Snettisham 
 
 Dingle, Mrs. Cley 
 
 L'Estrange, Henry, Esq. Hunstanton Hall 
 
 L'Estrange, Mrs. ditto 
 
 Edwards, Rev. E. Lynn 
 
 Everitt, Mrs. W. ditto 
 
 Easter, Miss, Creak 
 
 Elsden, Mrs. Lynn 
 
 England, Dr. Wisbeach 
 
 Eno, Mrs. ditto 
 
 Elvidge, Mr. ditto 
 
 Everitt, Miss, Burnham 
 
 Friend A 
 
 Fitzroy, Rev. Ringstead 
 
 Francis, Rev. Stibbard 
 
 Fitzroy Mrs. 
 
 Freeman Mrs. Dersingham 
 
 Foster, Rev. Brancaster 
 
 Fisher, Miss L. Elmham 
 
 Goodwin, Mrs. C. Lynn 
 
 Gurney, D. Esq. Runcton 
 
 Goggs, Mrs. Creak 
 
 Griffs, Mrs. ditto 
 
 Gumey, Miss, Norwich 
 
 Gurney, Mrs. ditto 
 
 Gregory, Rev. Allott Tighe, Hunstanton 
 
 4 copies 
 
 2 copies 
 
 copies
 
 86 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 Griggs, Mrs. Appleton 
 
 Goddard, Mrs. Wisbeach 
 
 Girling, Mrs. Holt 
 
 Garthon, Mrs. Cromer 
 
 Gay, Mrs. ThurniDg Hall 
 
 Gay, Miss, ditto 
 
 Green, Rev. T. Fulmodestone 
 
 Gwyn, Rev. R. N. Woodnorton 
 
 Hopson, Mrs. Gressinghall 
 
 Hare, Rev. H. J. Docking Hall 
 
 Headley, Mrs. Snettisham 
 
 Hepworth, Mrs. Dersingham 
 
 Harvey, Lady, Thorpe 2 copies 
 
 Hilton, Mrs. Lynn 
 
 Hilliard, Miss, ditto 
 
 Holditch, Mrs. ditto 
 
 Holmes, Rev. W. Wisbeach 
 
 Hargreeve, Mr. T. ditto 
 
 Hogge, Mrs. Thornham 
 
 Hurrell, Mrs. Burnham 
 
 Hopson, Mr. ditto 
 
 Howard, Mr. W. Stiffkey 
 
 Hervey, Mrs. Cockthorpe 
 
 Hudson, Rev. Marston 
 
 Harris, Mrs. Holt 
 
 Hall, Mrs. J. Thorpeland Hall 
 
 Hardy, Mrs. Cozens, Letheringsett 
 
 Hill, Mr. J. Gressinghall 
 
 Ives, Miss, Appleton 
 
 Jarvis, L. W. Esq. Lynn 1 copy, 10s. 
 
 Jex, Mrs. Isaac, Thorpe 
 
 Jarett, Mrs. Bircham 
 
 Johnson, Miss, Wisbeach 
 
 Judd, Mrs. Wells 
 
 Jarvis, Mrs. Wighton 
 
 Jackson Miss 
 
 Kerbell, Miss, Dereham 
 
 Kent, Mrs. E. Fakenham
 
 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 87 
 
 Keliere, J. Esq. Norwich 
 
 Kepple, Mrs. Warlam 
 
 Loftus, Mrs. Billingford Hall 1 copy, £1. 
 
 Lloyd, Miss, Bawdeswell Hall 
 
 Leicester, Rt. Hon. the Countess of, Holkham Hall 2 copies 
 
 Lane, Mr. I. Norwich 
 
 Laury, Mrs. Wisbeach 
 
 Lefever, Mr. G. M. Wisbeach 
 
 Lloyd, Miss E. ditto 
 
 Long, Mrs. Dereham 
 
 Leach, Rev. W. Dersingham 
 
 Masters, J. Esq. Lynn 
 
 Moyce, Mrs. ditto 
 
 Moxem, Rev. Sandringham 
 
 Manby, Mrs. Rudham 
 
 Mann, Miss, Runton 
 
 Mugridge, Mrs. Lynn 
 
 Monument, Mrs. ditto 
 
 Metcalf, Mrs. C. Wisbeach 
 
 Metcalf, Mrs. W. ditto 
 
 Mingay, Miss, Thornham 
 
 Mack, Mrs. J. Bumham 
 
 Mack, Miss, Bumham 
 
 Moore, Mrs. Cley 
 
 Massingham, Mrs. G. Holt 
 
 Massingham, Miss, ditto 
 
 Muskett, Mrs. ditto 
 
 North, Miss, Ringstead 1 copy, 6s. 
 
 Norgate, Mrs. W. Heacham 
 
 Norwich, Rt. Rev. the Lord Bishop of 1 copy, 10s. 
 
 Nichols, Miss, London 
 
 Nurse, Mrs. Bircham Tofts 
 
 Oxley, W. Esq. Wisbeach 
 
 Opie, Mrs. Norwich 1 copy, 10s. 
 
 Oakes, Lieut. Col. East Dereham 
 
 Pulleyne, Rev. B. Holt 
 
 Pope, Miss, March, Cambridgeshire 
 
 Parke, Miss, Dereham
 
 88 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 Paul, Mrs. B. Parsonage, Fririg 
 
 Paul, Miss, ditto 
 
 Paul, Mr. B. H. Fakenham 
 
 Plattin, J. Esq. Lynn 
 
 Partridge, Mrs. F. ditto 
 
 Palmer, Mrs. Yarmouth 
 
 Pigge, J. Esq. Heacham 
 
 Peachey Mrs. 
 
 Packe, Col. Twyford 
 
 Phayre, Rev. Raynham 
 
 Peatling, Mr. T. Wisbeach 
 
 Peckover, Susan, ditto 
 
 Phillips, Mrs. M. E. ditto 
 
 Palmer, Mrs. J. B. ditto 
 
 Pashley, Mr. Holt 
 
 Powel, Mrs. Wighton 
 
 Page, Mrs. Stiff key 
 
 Parke, Mrs. Holt 
 
 Phillips, Mrs. Cromer 
 
 Parkerson, Miss, Dereham 
 
 Rolfe, Rev. S. C. E. N. Heacham Hall 4 copies 
 
 Rolfe, Mrs. Charles Neville, Sedgeford Hall 
 
 Reeve, Mrs. Manor House, Brancaster 
 
 Raven, Mrs. Rudham 
 
 Rix, Mrs. G. Sedgeford 
 
 Rix, Mr. J. ditto 
 
 Rix, Mr. J. jun. ditto 
 
 Robins, Miss, Wisbeach 
 
 Read, Miss, H. Burnham 
 
 Redhead, Mrs. Bircham 
 
 Riley, Mrs. Capt. Wells 
 
 Read, Miss A. Wighton 
 
 Rippingall, Mrs. Langham 
 
 Rouse, Mrs. Holt 
 
 Rudd, Mr. Cley 
 
 Reed, Mrs. I. S. Lynn 
 
 Rix, Mrs. Thurning 
 
 Styleman, Mrs. Hunstanton Lodge
 
 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 89 
 
 Sondes, the Rt. Hou. Lady, Elmham Hall 1 copy, 10s. 
 
 Stedman, Mrs. Helhougkton 
 
 Smeatham, Mrs. Lynn 
 
 Swatman, W. Esq. LyDn 
 
 Spanton, Mrs. John, Hunstanton 
 
 Sharps, Mrs. Sunderland 
 
 Seppings, Mrs. Creak 
 
 Savory, Mrs. Syderstone 
 
 Steward, Rev. J. Syderstone Parsonage 
 
 Seppings, Miss, White Hall 
 
 Spurgeon, Mrs. J. Twyford 
 
 Scott, Mrs. J. Colney Hall 
 
 Sudbury, Mrs. Ringstead 
 
 Spinks, Miss, Snettisham 
 
 Swansborough, Mrs. J. Wisbeach 
 
 Squire, Mrs. W. ditto 
 
 Smith, Mrs. H. ditto 
 
 Shawl, Mrs. Burnham 
 
 Spencer, Mrs. ditto 
 
 Savory, Mrs. L. ditto 
 
 Starling, Miss, Burnham 
 
 Sparham, Mrs. Blakeney 
 
 Springfield, Mrs. Catton 
 
 Sedgwick, Miss, Liverpool 
 
 Simpson Mrs. 
 
 Suary, Mrs. Wisbeach 
 
 Tudor, Mrs. Houghton Hall 
 
 Thomlinson, Mrs. Catton 1 copy, 10s. 
 
 Terrington Mr. 
 
 Thompson Miss A. F. 
 
 Turner, Mrs. Tatterford Rectory 
 
 Thompson, Mrs. Burnham 
 
 Thomas, Mrs. Marston 
 
 Townshend, Lady James 
 
 Thornton Mrs. 
 
 Upcher, the Hon. Mrs. Sherringham 
 
 Usell, Mrs. Wisbeach 
 
 Ulph, Mrs. Titchwell
 
 90 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 Upjohn, Rev. Bowling 
 
 Upcher, Bev. Arthur, Sherringham 
 
 Ulph Mrs. 
 
 Vicars, Mrs. Barton 
 
 Vincent Mrs. Lucy, Yaxham 
 
 Ward, Mrs. March, Cambridgeshire 
 
 Warner, Rev. James Lee, Walsingham 
 
 Warner, Mrs. Lee, Walsingham Abbey, 
 
 Whisker, Miss, Holkham 
 
 Witty, Mr. Snettisham 
 
 Wright, Rev. H. Heacham 
 
 Watson, George, Esq. Fakenham 
 
 Wright, Mrs. Stanhoe 
 
 Wright, Mrs. R. Norwich 
 
 Whiteman, Mrs. Rudham 
 
 Wassel, Miss, Hunstanton 
 
 Wells, Mrs. Sedgeford 
 
 Williams, Mrs. J. C. Lynn 
 
 Wetherhead, Mrs. ditto 
 
 Warth, Mrs. ditto 
 
 Whiting, Mrs. ditto 
 
 Whitley Miss 
 
 Wilett, Mr. C. 
 
 Whitsed, Miss, Wisbeach 
 
 Ward, The Misses, ditto 
 
 Waddington, Mr. ditto 
 
 Wright, Mrs. J. ditto 
 
 Waters, Mrs. G. Holkham 
 
 White, Miss, Wells 
 
 Wells, Mrs. Dowling 
 
 Windham, Capt. Cromer 
 
 Webb, J. M. Esq. Letheringsett 
 
 Wood, Mr. D. Dereham 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 Jan-old and Sons, Printers, Loudon Street, Norwich.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 Form L9-50m-7, '54(5990)444 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 III 
 
 AA 000 378 064 o
 
 * » - !■»»-»■ HMl ■ 
 
 nn^wr 
 
 Mr