THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES PLEASLEY VALE, OR, THE WANDEREE'S SKETCH OF HOME. AN ORIGINAL PASTORAL POEM, WITH A SELECTION OF OTHEK PIECES, ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS, BY W. HALLAM. LONDON: SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, & Co. KIRK & UNDERWOOD, AND SUTTON, NOTTINGHAM ; MOZLEY, derby; AND LANGLEY, MANSFIELD. 1852. H-73S H9^ f To WILLIAM HOLLINS, Esquire, as a mabk of sincere and grateful esteem, asfd as a humble attempt to rescue the subject from unmerited oblivion, the following descriptive piece is, with all due respect, inscribed by his greatly obliged and ever devoted servant, The Author. Nottingham, 1852. 8222G2 PBEFACE. The following pages are from the pen of a humble mechanic, who wishes to state, that, but for a few friends who were desirous of possessing copies, they would not have appeared in print. The first piece, it will be seen, is an attempt at de- scription, and was the result of indisposition, which immediately succeeded the visit there spoken of. The writer is well aware of its mediocrity, but trusts the sin- cerity of motive, and truth of feeling, will be admitted. The stray verses annexed, are thrown in without regard to the order of the time they were written; the dates of one or two may be inferred from the subjects they treat of — being then new, — and a few were produced at an early age. If an apology be required, the Author begs respectfully to submit — whether it would not be better for themselves and society at large, if many of his own class would pur- sue a like course, in preference to the too frequent and injurious habits of recreation and relaxation by them fol- lowed; and (under a consciousness of the demerits and "iameness of his own work) whether, because the sun and the ocean are so beneficial and grand, the twinkling star and little streamlet are useless and ignoble ? or, in other words, if, because the ideas and sentiments are not ex- -alted and sublime, they must therefore be suppressed or smothered ? To the liberal and unprejudiced mind, he doubts not this appeal will be sufficient. From the severer critic— as below his aim — he thinks he has little to apprehend, or, if noticed, being low, has the less to fear from a fall. To the kind Friends and generous Patrons, who have favoured him with their support, he returns his grateful acknowledgments and warmest thanks; and from the indulgent readers in general, solicits — as the height of his ambition — the award of integrity of purpose. NOTTIKGHAM, 1852. CONTENTS. PAGE. Pleasley Vale 9 On the Death of an Infant Daughter ., .. 5Q Impromptu, inscribed on the Handle of an Umbrella 59 To Ann 60 Resemblance and Regret .. .. .. ..64 Lines, addressed to Mary Ann H . . . . 70 Transposition, or the Crossed Shutters ... ..74 Domestic Solitude .. ,. ., .. 76 The Complaint of the Tall Chimneys .. .. 78 To Miss , on her Sister's Espousal .« 80 To an Absent Spouse , . . . . , . . . . 8o Lines to a Friend .. .. .. .. .. 86 To an Old Maid, on the Loss of a Favourite Toad . . 88 On the Anniversary of a Memorable Day . . 90 PLEASLEY VALE K)n revisiting the Vale and Works of Pleasley, Derbyshire, after an absence of Jhirty-Jive years. July \Slh, 1851. O thou delightful and sequester'd Vale ! "With swelling breast, once more:T'l3id thee, hail ! Thy native charms alone — for such they are — Might draw admiring numbers from afar, Might grace a Thomson's flowing graphic verse. Or suit a gentle Cowper to rehearse. To Goldsmith's genius soaring wings have lent, Or White's, who warbled on the banks of Trent. For me — presumptuous ! dare I tread the court. And daring th«s become the muse's sport "^ Incompetent, I know, to take the field. Yet prompted by a teeming heart, I yield : 10 Of humble birth, of humbler powers possest — I thus stand forth, thy votary confest : And whilst thy beauties I attempt to sing, O let Devotion a pure off'riug bring, A faithful tribute here shall be inwove. Of Friendship, Gratitude, and Filial Love. Though loving solitude, I would premise, A misanthropic being I desjnse : Hence one, the partner of my joys and cares, Partaking still, in this enjoyment shares. From Mansfield Woodhouse, in its lone retreat. Its ancient church, its cross, and winding street. Where flat hewn stones are laid, for passing o'er A crystal streamlet, dryshod to each door* — The schoolboys of the village often boast. And tell how theirs, of bridges, has the most. Retiring hence, and from the noise and din Of busy mortals, let our sketch begin. The long -sought Yale, as yet, lies far from view. Still, as our course we leisurely pursue, Tho' i^lain the landscape 'round us, yet as such. And thither leading, let us faintly touch. • One side of the street only. 11 Thus having gain'd the summit of a rise, A well-remember'd lane before us lies ; 'Tis arid now, but we have known the time, When ev'ry step fell deeply in the slime. Where newts and frogs would to the pits resort. And serve unfeeling youth for cruel sport. Not so, however, with a diff 'rent class. Which here sometimes encamj^'d, a month would pass. In yon lone spot first pitch their crazy tent. Then some to pastime, some on forage went ; The rising smoke was signal quite enough. For timid youth and maids to keep aloof: We well remember how, the place to shun, On trespass round the fields, t'have crept or run. As from the poles the chain and caldron swung, Deserv'd or not, yet rumour's busy tongue. Bestowed a name, which ever to them clung: 'Twas said, and still blind superstition tells. That here the tawny sybil seeth'd her spells, Then sallying forth to vend her worthless ware. Soon mark'd her dupes among the cred'lous fair; With crafty, knowing phiz, and cunning guise. First spread the tempting bait before their eyes, B 2 12 As pincushions, with hearts, and darts, and wings, Enchanted true-love-knots, and magic rings ; At length, the hand (a contrast to her own) Was caught, where fortune's smiles and frowns were shown; The fee secur'd, the chuckling hag foretold. That Miss should wed a lord, and shine in gold ! Her cloak of dingy red, returned well lin'd, "With p'rhaps an infant in its bag behind. The burly men could act their counterparts, And practice various trades and wondrous arts — The fiddler, pedler, mender of old chairs. Or cups and balls at country wakes and fairs. Would barter, bargain, jockey for a horse. And game, or bet, with any on the course ; Till having drain'd the neighb'ring sources dry. To some fresh genial distant spot would fly. And tho' suspected oft of pilfering deeds, 'Twas seldom prov'd, they thus suiDplied their needs. But in this revolutionary age. The gipsy tribes seem banish'd from the stage. Descending now, a long but gentle slope. The view contracts within a narrow scope, 13 And as the village spire and turrets wane^ Few vestiges of social life remain : The pleasing solitude a chance affords. For sober thought, or moralizing words — That man's orig'nal doom, to toil for bread. Still imrevers'd remains, need scarce be said; To make that doom a subject of complaint,. Or fitness doubt, is far fi^om our intent; That he is wisely fashion'd, and endow'd. For active life, by all will be allowed ; And thus ordain'd, may each just means employ,. The first to soften, and the last t'enjoy. But that his strength and energies of mind. Were by his Maker, from the first design'd For servile slavery, must be denied ; -^ Nor had they ever thus been misapplied, C But for Ambition, Avarice, and Pride. ) That sound employment yields content, is true. And inactivity is lov'd by few ; Yet labour, skilful honest labour, stands. The universal source for all demands. Still, Nature prompts, and Health and Reason ask, For relaxations from his daily task, b3 14 Hence, games and sports become of moral use. Well chosen, and avoiding the abuse ; For these, like many other human schemes. Are often earned to unwise extremes. To those engag'd in towns, who need it most, A ramble in the countiy, is not lost ; Through lanes and fields, through woods and wilds to range. Though simple, is a salutary change, And far outweighs the pastime some prefer, "Who in their choice oi pleasure greatly err. Denounce the shop or work-room as impure. And yet the tavern's pestilence endure. Who barter wholesome, sweet, and sober joys. For dissipation, folly, railt and noise. Away then, from the turmoil of the town. Our flight is made, and here we settle down. And though too brief the space that intervenes. We hail the country life and rural scenes ! The prospect on our way, of late confined. Now gradual opens, and relieves the mind, A varied scene, on either side expands. In pasture, cultur'd, or plantation lands ; 15 Direct before appears a swinging gate, Whose well-brac'd form denotes superior state^ Its final closing snap would seem to say, " On suff 'ranee here, no public road this way." Time past, a slight obstruction this was found. As serving only for a sportive bound : Witness the summer eve, when work was done. To taste the sweets of home, a six-miles run.* The road, alike for carriage, man, or horse. Through open fields, now takes its winding course. The interwoven hedge, that skirts our right. Would tempt, in harvest time, a rambling wight. Or truant urchin, catering for a meal. The nuts, and crabs, and blackberries to steal: Perchance, his honest scruples hush'd, the field Of peas a more substantial fare would yield. Or if intent on pillage, see him crouch. To fill his sachel rather than his pouch, Th* approaches duly scann'd with watchful eye. Whilst at the spoil his nimble fingers ply. And squat and cover'd at the least alarm. He finds concealment in the tangl'd haum : • The writer was then an apprentice at Mansfield. B 4 16 Though seldom here such depredators come. Perhaps because it is too far from home. In thu5 arraigning others, we confess — - If not in act and deed, yet ne'ertheless— Ourselves not innocent ; the only bar Is, that too crude the sav 'ry morsels are. This frank confession may, so far, be well. But better a cen.^orious heart to quell ; Tho' e'en in courts where Ju&tice holds the scales'. It is not always Equity prevails, Th' accuser, with effronter}', sometimes. Sees mirror'd in the culprit his own crimes. And while the first eludes a righteous doom. The last is guilty by the laws become. The- landscape opens as we pass along. And recollections to the mem'ry throng; The spacious acres now display to vi©w>. The blooming pulse, in variegated hue ; A train of rustics in the distance, see. Beguiling labour with the joke and glee. And as they toss the mellow, fragrant hay,. A welcome breeze regales us on the way. 17 The show'r descending gives them time to rest. Yet puts their toil and patience to the test; Whilst all around^ in rich abundance seen. Are waving fields, as yet in radiant green. Where, with the promise, since the world began. For sustenance, are plac'd the hopes of man. A second gate by this time having pass'd. Across th' adjoining field a look we cast. And, though obscurely seen, we there descry A place that used t' attract the curious eye. 'Tis said, a ploughman breaking up the ground, First traces of an ancient ruin found, — Eare curiosities were thus display'd — A floor with fine mosaic work inlaid. Old-fashioned coin, and vases, were brought forth. With treasures rich, and relics of great worth. Whilst vague tradition held in the belief. That 'twas the mansion of a fairy chief; A small stone building once the spot reveal'd, Design'd a few antique remains to shield. But spoilers' feet and pilf 'ring hands, alas ! Destroy'd what once a Eoman villa was. B 5 18 1 Ignorance ! thou source of human woe, The stamp of bondage, liberty's worst foe, The tyrant's chain, and Anarchy's best friend — E'en now thy factions Gallia's vitals rend, — Thy countless legions swarm on ev'ry side. By Superstition urg'd, and led by Pride; Deluded myriads, still hoodwinked by thee. To priestcraft yield up all, submissively ; Thou hateful scourge of earth, from pole to pole. Hell's black usurper o'er the mind and soul. Parent of crime and shame, of guilt and pain. How long shall England's toilers drag thy chain ! AVhen will the giant Press with Knowledge join. To immolate thee on true Wisdom's shrine ? There needs no argument to prove the fact. That land untill'd becomes a barren tract ; Or, if producing aught, so much the worse — As rank and pois'nous weeds, a greater curse ! Hence, cultivators all their means employ. The noxious innovators to destroy ; And, to reclaim the sterile, swampy soil. Spare no expense, nor trouble, time, nor toil. 1^ There somewhere lies (we name not Church nor State), For this neglect, a grave responsive weight. When a proud nation's wealth o'erflowing runs. Whilst ignorance blinds her toiling, hardy sons I Though numbers with intentions pure and good^ Use their best efforts to arrest the flood. But Selfishness and Bigotry, stern foes, These Christian and godlike designs oppose ; And whilst discussions and disputes run high, On forms of discipline, they would employ, W^hat creed or tenet would best suit the case,- To feed the starving morals of our race. The food and nurture of the human mind. Is worse (through sheer neglect) than husks and wind. And can there be, who to the doctrine cling, "A little learning is a dang'rous thing," — Who, to suppress accumulating ills. Would train the infant shoots to their own wills. Themselves the stocks of indolence and sloth. Would check and stunt their intellectual growth. Consign the victims to a hopeless fate. And then deride their barb'rous ign'rant state ? b6 so Let not the charge against us here be brought, Of holding principles with danger fraught; We seek and ask no more at human hands. Than right, or justice in the cause demands. To Education, let there be applied, Part of the millions spent in pomp and pride; Nor should that education merely be. To cube the items under l. s. d.. But civil manners, bas'd on -virtuous truth. Ingrafted early in the mind of youth ; And tho' perfection is not sought below. Yet, rightly trained, the plants would rightly grow. for the dawn of that bright coming day ! "When this benighted gloom shall pass away; When prejudice, and ignorance, shall run As cloudy mist before a glorious sun ; Pride, en\'y, malice, hatred, then would cease. And tumult, war and bloodshed yield to peace ; By worse than Pagan priestcraft, long disjoin'd. Religion should her handmaid. Knowledge, find ; Domestic converse be supremely kind. And social language pleasing and refined ; 21 The ear no more be stung, nor mind be pain'd, ' By words with which the lips of youth are stain'd; The speech of sweating toilers would be free. From coarse offensive jest, and ribaldry. Then hasten, bright, effulgent, happy day. To chase these gloomy moral clouds for aye ! 'Tis true the signs of better things appear. And foremost those of this eventful year: — Behold the wide world's wonder !* project vast ! Astounding this — eclipsing ages past ; We hail thy advent, and pronounce, God -speed ! Thy mission prosper, and thy work succeed. Ye noble heroes in her cause, go on — See ! Commerce greets you smiling from her throne, And heaven-born Peace in rich profusion sheds. Her long-enduring blessings on your heads ; And, O ye rulers, spare the stately dome, A happy people, yet unborn, will come. Who, to the temple, and its founders' praise. Shall songs of grateful, joyous triumph raise ! Our theme awhile neglected having lain. With pardon ask'd, we now resume again, * The great Exhibition of all Nations. b7 22 And find the short digression's brought us where. The symptoms of inhabitants appear. The farmer's spreading acres, often will Outreach the bounds of cot or domicile. But when the garden's form attracts the eye. It indicates domestic life is nigh ; Ourselves not favour'd with botanic skill. We can admire both art and nature still. Though here, for gay parterre, and flow'ry bed. Are useful roots and plants, found in their stead; Nor, to divide the lots, are hedge-rows seen, 'Tis simply done by stakes set up between — A landmark deem'd sufficient, ere began Encroaching habits, since posses'd by man. Here, seizing from the daily task assign'd. Their leisure hours, the hands employment find ; With cheerful hearts, and healthy frames, they go. To dig and trench, manure, and plant and sow; Machines exchanging for the hoe and spade. Their labour lightened by a brother's aid; And thus committed to the fruitful soil. In hopes await the harvest of their toiL 23 At this meridian hour 'tis quite a treat. Throughout the way, a fellow man to meet — A fact tho' simple, yet this truth maintains. That here retirement undisputed reigns ; Though one appear'd, at length, whom we ap- pro ach'd. And for a moment on his time encroach'd ; He ceas'd to lay the surplus turnips low. And heard, attentive what we wish'd to know ; ^Yhilst we, of friends, with that concern inquir'd. Long absence from a native home inspir'd; But negative replies affirm'd this much — We met as strangers, and we parted such. Once more the clanking gate is heard, and pass'd, — To flocks a needful bar — our third and last, A Welcome portal to the lovely Vale, Which now so near at hand, with joy we hail ! Whose smiling features still the same appear — How chang'd ourselves since last we wander'd here ! Thus leisurely advancing, we can trace Sure signs of animation near the place ; b8 24 The stillness reigning as along we came. Acquires a sound that indicates the same. And though, as yet, no dwellings we discern. Their presence, by yon curling smoke, we learn. The rocky chasm, that we're approaching now. Affords an entrance thro' the mountain's brow. Descending thence obliquely, and tho' steep. Yet may the steady horseman footing keep. For both the produce, and supplies of trade. Are each way through the avenue convey 'd. Thus far advanc'd, we see, in snug array. O'er a low parapet which guards the way, A range of cottage dwellings, for the use Of those who toil our garments to produce ; And toil contented in their humble sphere. For superfluities are strangers here. But comforts, such as peasants need and prize. Are plentifully spread before our eyes. Nor would we pass in scorn or silence by. The useful bristled tenants of the sty. Nor yet, in our esteem, should pass unsung. The healthy sports provided for the young ; — The sturdy forest oak, and mountain pine, Were saplings once, requiring discipline. 25 And not a little of their strength and form. Owe to the breeze and gale — if not the stoim ; And thus, by Nature's economic plan. Is exercise essential to the man. We therefore tell, with an approving word (What some might deem too trifling to record); How at our left, down on a shady green. An apparatus for their use is seen ; A frame substantial, and securely fix'd. Of lofty pillars, and a beam betwixt : The swivels, ropes, and seats attach'd, implies, A care for wholesome, youthful exercise. Now having cross'd the bridge that spans the brook. We cast around a recognising look; The scenery admiring, pause again. Whilst to my list'ning partner I explain. How, that a current far below our tread. In subterranean vault, rolls on its bed ; How, at the works above, from whence it flows. The gentle stream a mighty agent grows ; Divided there, to suit the purpose plann'd. As fluctuating cases may demand, B 9 26 That, as the elder branch, runs off at will. Whilst this becomes the mover at the mill : The pond'rous wheels and shafts resist no more. The force a million spindles fly before ; Its useful task perform'd, with foaming flight Ingulphs itself in one long dismal night. Thenceforth nor seen, nor heard, nor scarcely known. Some furlongs in its dungeon still rolls on. Till issuing forth at length, with joy would seem. To hail once more, its long-lost parent stream. "The lapse of time and rivers is the same;" Thus sang the poet of pathetic fame; Each truly rolling by, with changes fraught. As by experience we have long been taught; If not the source and fountain here begun. The stream of early life, at least, did run. Borne on the fleeting current far away. Now smooth awhile, now with impetuous sway ; The surface calm and tranquil, whilst below. Unseen, the troubled, turbid waters flow; Now basking in the summer sun's bright rays. Or o'er the wild cascade, disportive plays ; 27 Pursuing now the headlong torrent's track. Then foaming down the fearful cataract : With no less changes pregnant. Time runs on. And ever passing by, it tarries none ; Brings forth events, some strangled in the birth. And in its course sweeps down the pride of earth. Their final exit — rivers to the sea. And time to th' ocean of Eternity. Again we find our feeble efforts fail To render justice to the hallow'd Vale — would some pow'r on me the gift bestow. To find the language as my feelings flow. The secret inward workings to define. Or paint yon outward glories as they shine ! Thus, then, returning to the theme we love. Behold the splendid beauties of the grove ! Those mountain woods stretch sweeping far away. And proudly their rich summer dress display. Whose tow'ring crests and tufted branches show A pleasing contrast with the lawn below. Now closely shorn, and swath'd in velvet green. The winding silver streamlet drawn between : 28 Nor are there wanting here, from Nature's stock. Of tenants for the woods and cavern'd rock; Of these we might unnumber'd tribes adduce,^ None dang'rous, haply, some of special use : > In short, most such as England's wilds produce.} The barking chorus echoing through the dale, ^Yhen darkness rules, unfolds a truthful tale, A needless proof, where prowling foxes dwell. The neighb'ring farms can testify too well. Here too from hollow trunks, at twilight grey, — Like city pests let loose in search of prey,: — The blinking and ill-omen'd owlets steal. And join with hoot and screech, the nightly peal. And yet, tho' harsh and dissonant the sound. Ears, not averse to music, may be found. That would, consulting taste and common sense. With greater pleasure, and far less expense. Prefer this wild, and gloomy serenade. To Fashion's jargon, by Italians made. These, now (at blaze of noon), their clamours cease. And all around are hush'd, and seem at peace ; The feather'd choir their matins having done, Betu'e to shelter from the mid-day sun. 29 "Whose heat is temper'd by a gentle breeze. That murmurs through the flutt'ring leafy trees. The nature-loving artist here would find Employment for his pencil and his mind ; Nor for embellishments need fancy soar. The charms around supply an ample store; And, to give animation to the scene. The dwellings lately notic'd intervene : And, but for these, 'twere easy to conclude Ourselves in nature's perfect solitude ; — Not gloomy even then, still we confess, Their absence would produce a loneliness ; Small, but compact, secluded, yet not drear. Convenient for the Works, yet not too near. The purling stream, good for domestic use. The verdant meadows, and the woods profuse. From towns remote, from noise and bustle free. Might hence be called, a model colony ! Of all the friends, once seen and known so well. How many now within those limits dwell ? The length of time, and changes wrought, alas ! Bids not one smile of recognition pass ; Still, as with easy steps we turn away. They, subjects of our converse, ling'ring stay; 30 Thus, the dear friend beside me, fain would know. From whence their requisite supplies could flow. So far from towns, no store nor warehouse near. It must be that privations reach'd them here ? That one accustom'd from life's early dawn To busy towns, and thence their habits drawn. Should raise the question, in a case like this. To me, at least, no passing wonder is. How oft do we, by self's imperious law. In judgmg others, wrong conclusions draw; — The frigid Greenlander pronounces good. His cheerless clime, his coarse and rancid food ; The torrid savage gluts as at a feast. O'er entrails from the scarce more savage beast; And simple South Sea Islanders prefer. Their nuts and yams to all our dainty cheer. Thus Nature, ever faithful to her plan. The circumstance adapts to place and man, Whilst he, this fact o'erlooking, or forgets. On reason's seat his i-uling passion sets. In chase of happiness, will in his course. Outrun, or spurn content, its certain source. Now, to the question (which in passing by Caus'd these remarks), was furnish'd this reply : m '* That these, our friends, have want^ and needs, is true. But nature's guide reduces them to few. And by providing care those few are met — Which self-same care debars the monster Debt; Th' alluring snares and vice in cities rife. May serve as fables for their rural life. And if the town's advantages they miss, Th' advantage is to their account in this — One truth, at least, will to their praise redound — No all-destroying taverns here are found j The things essential for domestic use (And rarely do they others introduce), Like the wise ant, in quantities procure. And comforts thus, at easy rates, secure : In short, possessing these, would seem enough — The sack of flour, the flitch, diiid garden stuff " But lo ! as winding round the circling Yale, One special object of our search we hail ! A tow'ring building rears its stately head, AYhose wings and flanks the valley overspread, 'Whilst clusters of subordinates below. Their various and respective uses show; 32 The noble j^ile, which our first notice claims. Owes its existence to devouring flames. Whose fury raz'd a former mill, of late, And hence, the jDresent structure's modern state. Near to it stands a dwelling, still possess'd Of pow'r to raise emotions in our breast, — For, though the scenery around be fair, 'Tis here the feelings of the heart repair. Bear witness ye, who hither having stray 'd. How well a casual visit is repaid. Apart fi'om that sweet-sounding title. Home ! Say, who withholds a welcome when ye come ? Or, when did health, and recreation fail. To recompense the guest of Pleasley Yale ? But when an exile to his home returns. What glowing ardour in his bosom bui'ns, — Attractive, hallowed S2)ot ! How many years. Have anxious hopes alternated with fears. And after wand'ring far and long — to see Those hopes thus realised in viewing thee. What wonder if the heart and tongue break forth. In praise and utt ranee of thy treasur'd worth ? Dear boyhood's home ! How potent is thy spell ! Who hath not felt, and feeling strove to tell ? S3 Strong are tby bands, and binding unto deatb. Here flies the shipwreck'd victim's latest breath; Those willing exiles, bound by love and zeal. The gospel mission pair, thy heartstrings feel f Yon hardy emigrant upon the sea, Found this his hardest task, to part from thee; The link most galling in the captive's chain. Is this — " Thou ne'er shalt see thy home again/' E'en pleasure's sons, who for indulgence roam. When cloy'd and pall'd, will sigh and wish for Home : The pilgrim here his weary life would close; In thee the vet'ran warrior seeks repose ; Ambition's trophies at thy feet are laid. To thee Philosophy hath homage paid; The statesman, harass'd with his Atlas' load. Will turn to thee to smooth his downward road; The poet's soul, touch'd with a sacred fire, To Childhood's Home, hath tun'd his sweetest lyre. Then let me at thy shrine an off'ring lay. And that devotion which I owe thee, pay. Here, on thy threshold — consecrated place— Would mem'ry fondly all the past retrace. 34 Call up the happy scenes of joyous youth. And all th' endearing ties of Love and Truth, The cheerful hearth, and social board pourtray, Where order, peace, and kindness held the sway: And oh ! with all the rev'rence duty claims. Invoke the parents' and the sisters' names, AYhose forms are present to the mental view. E'en now those tender accents sound anew. That with instruction and advice were fraught. Example bearing out the precepts taught ; Th' approving smile to dawning merit due, — Not giv'n by all— was ne'er withheld by you. And when the giddy steps — to err inclin'd — Caird for rejDroof, yet that rej^roof was kind ; Parental love and jdIous watchful care Shone brightly in your lives, ye honoured pair ! thou abode of peace ! too lightly priz'd, A truant youth I left thee, unadvis'd. One half the allotted age of man, since then Hath pass'd, and passing brought me here agahi. Thus as I stand and turn my filling eyes. Not one appears whom I can recognise. Though friendly courtesy by all is shown. It bears this mark— "the wanderer's unknown !" 35 As one just from a spirit's dream awake,. So I, arousing, thus inquiries make — " Where are ye now ! where all my early friends ! What desolating scourge this place attends ? Do none remain, of those I once beheld. Not one famihar face— are all expell'd ? Where shall I search — and must I thus despair. Again I ask, and 'Echo answers. Where ?'" We leave you, with a sad, but calm adieu. And our discursive narrative pursue. To smooth the feelings, and enchant the sight. The sylvan scene re-open& with delight ; Now o'er the surface of a spacious pool. The rippling zephyrs play, refreshing-cool. And on its margin as we pass along, The woodman cheers us with his homely song; Here Nature, in her works, prolific shines. And art, subserviently to man, combines ; Hard by our path stupendous rocks are seen. As though convulsion's self at work had been ; Th' exploring and advent'rous guest does well. To mark the shiver'd masses that have fell ; Whilst craggy and portentuous cliiTs advise. Our safety in a cautious distance lies. 36 Here let me, as connected with the Yale, Bepeat an ancient legendary tale, — An awe-inspiring matron gave it me, ^yho, tho' my voucher, nameless here must be. Far up the lonely wood exists a cave. That once a refuge to banditti gave ; Their depredations reach'd afar and wide. Still here their booty and themselves would hide J Immense rewards were offer'd by the king. To those who would the chieftain's helmet bring; But yeoman bold, nor valiant knight they fear'd, Till all the countr}- round was sack'd and clear'd: At length a crafty miUer laid the plan. And caus'd the brook, which through the valley ran. To mount the hill, and thus the cave o'erflow'd. For which exploit a knighthood was bestow'd. The dismal cavern has become, since then. For foxes, badgers, owls, and snakes, a den; One man alone once ventur'd to go down. And he a miller from a neighb'ring town. Who by his courage half a mile was led, WTiich, on return had, with his senses, fled. 3? I only add, what p'rhaps a smile may wm> I've seen the mouth, but never dare go in. Our devious course resuming, yonder see !- — Like some proud vessel sailing gracefully, — On the pellucid water, nothing can Be more majestic than the stately swan : So chaste her garb, so dignified her mien. Might form an emblem of a virtuous queen. But where 's thy consort, art thou too, bereft Of friends, and thus a solitary left ? Perhaps by mutual compact thus he strays Awhile away, your meeting joys to raise; Or mated or alone, your life's long day> Shall here in tranquil safety ghde away. The upper mill now close at hand appears, — No traces of its predecessor bears — For here, as with its counterpart below. Its features modern renovations show; As though twin-born, their sires alike were doom'd. To live and flourish, and to be consum'd ; But Phoenix-like (as fabled story goes). The present fabrics from their ashes rose. 38 Desire again predominant will be. One friend, at least, of olden times to see : One friend we found — that one to eulogise. His courteousness as fiatt'ry, would despise ; But gratitude, attended with respect. Discerning goodness never will reject; — Here, then, was gen'rous kindness in the fact. That with the poivr, was shown the icill to act ; In manners complaisant, free to converse. No haughty, stem demeanour, to coerce. Permission gave, th' extensive works to view (Where of surviving friends we found a few J: Such easy labour, health and comfort join'd, Display'd a skilful, philanthropic mind ; And further proof of kindness to afford. For our repast was spread a lib'ral board. Twere strange, that unto strangers favours thus Should be confer d, as were confer'd on us. Ourselves unknown, no claims could we put forth, 'Twas through the influence of defatted worth. Part of the pool, here forms a kind of bay. Bound which to Pieasley Village lies our way; 39 A few more cottages we pass, and then Forsake awhile " the busy haunts of men f" Another valley, lying on our right. Its woods divergent stretches from the sight. Whilst on our left the sloping banks declare, A garden of no mean possessor's care. Now from an elevated piece of ground. We pausing cast a parting look around. Across the pool, just peering thro' the trees — And like its inmates, cloth'd with modest ease — A house appears, such as one might suppose Was fairy-built, or by enchantment rose ; Midway on the acclivity it stands. And thus, with easy sway, th' approach com- mands ; The rocks — still in accordance with the place — Serve for protection and a solid base ; The southern aspect opens free and pure. Its northern, render'd by those rocks, secure ; The plats of velvet turf, so even shorn. With balmy flow'rs, and shrubs, the front adorn ; And whilst such cheerfulness without is seen. Pure hospitality is found within. Such is the spot, aod such long may it be^^ The seat of health, and true felicity. 40 Should any judg^e our picture of content. Too highly drawn, or complimental meant. We'd wish them here, at noon, some pleasant day. When labour's progress meets a short delay. The young of either sex, releas'd awhile, Eegale themselves in true primeval style ; Plain, healthy, clean and cheerful, see them spread. On grassy banks, or on a rocky bed ; To satisfy their moderate desires. Small portion of the shortlived hour requires^ To fill the rest, as inclination leads. The book or walk, the song or game, succeeds. Come hither ye, who, jDamper'd, fed and nurs'd. Are with the bane of luxury accurs'd. From simple, unsophisticated youth. Ye might derive, at least, one wholesome truth. The happiness which affluence seldom brings. From humble, sweet, contented labour springs. One vital subject yet remains unsung. For which we fear our lyre is feebly strung : 44 Its universal import and demand, Requires a skilful and experienced hand. Thus far, with humble efforts have we strove. To sketch the objects of the dale and grove, Nor are, in our opinion, least of these. The noble mills, and their dependencies ; But might not this inquiry started be — " What is their purport or utility ?" Go see the snowy fleece-producing pod. Where Afric's sons endure the scourging rod — ( That shows His pow'r, this 'waits the wrath of God)— Behold the bursting capsules — splendent sight ! Fill the wide range with spotless, virgin white; Then mark the wealthy planter's anxious care. To realize the name of m'dlionare. Urge on with goading spur his sable train. The precious golden harvest to obtain: The downy crop securely gather'd in. Must next, revolving rollers pass between ; Th' elastic fibres thus compress'd, are held In closer contact, and the seed expelld ; Observe, what numbers, with incessant toil (As though engag'd in packing recent spoil). 42 The crater-mouth 'd, capacious bags, surcharge, With untold blessings for the world at large ; The shipments made, th* impatient Tessels fly. Proud of their charge, to earth's extremity, — For, turn your globe terrene, and mark the spot, The produce of our pod is wafted not. And here we risk^a patriotic smile — See ! how they crowd to Britain's favour'd isle. "Where bale on bale, from teeming fleets, pour in. As woolly summer clouds, in jDiles are seen. The Queen of Ports,* with Freedom's flag un- furl'd. Holds out the olive branch to all the world. Invites its nations to partake at will. In her resources, unexhausted still; And as the friendly intercourse proceeds. Creates, augments, supplies each other's needs. From hence, as from the heart, its vital stream. The cargoes fly, impell'd by mighty steam. By countless branching arteries convey 'd. To furnish hfe, and meet the wants of Trade ; And thus distributed, in bag or bale, A due proportion reaches Pleasley Yale. * Liverpool, 43 Here might we leave our charge, nor further trace Its onward progress, as too common-place. The card, the drawing, roving, spinning frames. To all are now become familiar names. But that a word may not amiss be said. Which both concerns the living and the dead. Could but our worthy grandams* mothers rise (Peace to their shades), and bless their ghostly eyes. To see th ' astounding changes since their days, Methinks they'd hasten back from sheer amaze: Those thrifty housewives (like our own no doubt) Saw wondrous airy castles wing'd about, Yet mounted not the rainbow-bridge so high. As these strange cotton regions to descry ; The reign of Fashion scarcely then begun. Those dames were clad in robes themselves had spun ; Their buxom daughters, too, were early bred, T' adjust the tow, and draw the flaxen thread. And thus emj^loy'd, would often carol lays. On constant love, and future blissful da}s. The whirling hum repeat the happy fate. That John would prove sincere, and wed his Kate. 44 The list'ning matron, with a tear of joy, Would call to miud the days long since gone by, When she and her gudeman were blythe and young. Around the garland dane'd, or cheerly sung, Their friends through life, the distaff and the wheel, Nor dreamt of Watt, of Arkright, or of Peel. Hail, sweet simplicity ! whose charms are such. The chilly hand of Science, should not touch. Though this may bring abundance — ne'ertheless Sufficient with content, brings happiness. And for the evils, surfeit will entail. May they be never felt in Pleasley Yale I Still. through the winding Valley, lies our way. Which here the cultivator's marks betray, Th'increasing wants of man require more space. Hence wood and grove, to tillage must give place. The sounding axe encroaches by degrees, And;prostrate lie the once majestic trees. The branches lopp'd and trim'd, with hooked bill. Now form materials for the ledger's skill. 45 Whose work perform 'd, he scans with honest pride. With thorn-proof mitten'd hand stuck athis side. For which we yield him credit, and allege. There's beauty in a well-pleach'd, even hedge. Though thus, in part, divested of our shade> 'Tis by th' umbrageous shelving banks repaid ; One true ally, our comjoany still keeps. Here rushing by, or there meandering creeps. Now pausing for reflection, and anon. Is with its colleague. Time, for ever gone ! Unheeded runs thy stream, and long hath ran, A faithful monitor to tardy man: Yet not by all despis'd, the wand'rer's muse, Still on thy banks her artless theme pursues. And claiming kindred with tliy love of shade. Thy friendship courts, and woos thee to her aid. Go, then, a messenger of sorrow, go ! And as thou murm'rest through yon Vale below. There tell them how, in melancholy mood. And wrapt in reverie, the strangers stood, A precious drop into thy bosom fell. And falling, brought the mournful sound — Farewell ! 46 Say, as thou stolest imobserv'd along, Thou heard'st this plamtive, visionary song — Have ye ne'er been, where once was seen, Eomautic Pleasley Vale ! Kor heard it said, how Nature spread Pier beauties o'er the dale ? How, in the Spring, the birds would sing. How sweetly Summer smil'd. And all the year, things did appear. So picturesque and wild ? The running brook, which ne'er forsook Its path, like erring fools. But grew and spread, to such a head. As form'd two large mill-pools. Nor did they flow for useless show. But work'd the water-wheels. That spun and wound — as they went round- The cotton on the reels. 'Twixt yonder hills, there stood the mills. And people us'd to say — The mountain pass, well guarded was. To keej) the foe aw^ay. 47 And I could show, where stood a row Of houses for the hands, The gardens spruce, which did produce Enough for their demands. And here and there, would just appear A cottage, trim and neat. Whilst one or two, would plainly show, A manager's retreat. And yonder stood, right in the wood — Near half-a-mile from hence — A pretty seat, all so complete — The master's residence. No cares had they, from day to day^ But to their work they went, — Such happiness they did possess. Because they were content. But now, a change, alas ! so strange,- Is come o'er all the scene. That for its sake, my heart doth ache. As though my own 't had been. c 2 48 From yon great town a troop came down — One that no pity feels — Commerce and Wealth, with Law and Stealthy And Science at their heels. The plans were laid, the word was said. And soon as said was done : And now. Behold ! what pow'r and gold Hath wrought beneath the sun ! No plea was heard, and nothing spar'd. But with a whirlwind's force. They levell'd all, both pool and wall. That stood within their course. A viaduct they did construct, iVcross from wood to wood, Which now doth rear, a giant pier. Just where a factory stood. For miles in length, of wond'rous strength. Are double rows laid down. Of iron roads, which carry loads. Enough to crush a town. 49 The roar and scream, of yonder steam. Is like a demon's yell ! Here comes a train, with might and main, A dragon, nonpareil ! There, one doth stand, with flag in hand. Just like a blue dress'd ghost. And on the sj^ot where fruit was got, A lamj) and signal post. The purling stream, asham'd doth seem. And modestly retires. Whilst o'er its bed, are boldly spread. Those telegraphic wires. O, woe betide ambitious pride. And sordid, grasping men. Who such a state could desolate. But ne'er restore again. Nor house, nor cot, nor garden plot. Is left to tell the tale. What ruthless band o'erspread the land. And ravag'd Pleasley Vale ! c 3 50 Ah ! what avails thy wand'rings, fickle muse ? Return, these reveries to disabuse. Time and our steps, at length have brought us near. The destination of our visit here ; The few remaining moments yfe would ask. Must be devoted to a mournful task : Within the precincts of the village now. We would prepare to pay a solemn vow, A vow not light esteem'd nor rashly made. Let heav'n our witness be, and grant us aid. Ye crowded cities, boasting wealth and fame, Contrasted here, your greatness we disclaim — And thou, proud modern Babylon !* stand forth ! Thy real value show, thy sterling worth, Thy gold and dross — virtue and vice — compare. And justly jDois'd, say what their ratios are ! For us to point your faults, would ill befit. Far less, in judgment o'er your fate to sit; Ye have your missions, doubtless, as the rest. But here, would we, in solitude be blest. 'Tis true your sacred temples much abound. Where many faithful worshij)pers are found, * London. 51 And yet a public street, or thoroughfare (For thus ye're quoted, chiefly, to compare)^ {Seems ill adapted for the outer court, "Where pious Christian devotees resort. Not so the venerable church at hand, Within whose consecrated bounds we stand, No outward pompous architecture here. No peace-disturbing public structure near. Lowly itself — humility implies, Its site aspiring, points us to the skies, A calm serenity around prevails, Such as a heavenly musing spirit hails. ]\Iay such a spirit, with all fulness, dwell In all who joyful gospel tidings tell; r>Iay he who doth this holy charge sustain. In heart and life its purity maintain. Here would we serious be, and softly tread. Surrounded with the chambers of the dead, IMuch cause for contemplation— none for fear — No loit'ring, curious motive, brought us liere, Vov who, indeed, would trilling be, that comes To seek their dearest friends amono- the tombs ? 52 Behold the records of departed souls ! In various sculptur'd monumental scrolls. This plainly4etter"d foot-stone serves the turn. Of that rich ornamented marble urn. To friendship true, a tribute here is sho-svn, There, sever'd love's distinguish'd by a stone. Those emblematic cherubim are meant. The infant's hajDpy change to represent; The mother's grief — her daughter's course is run ! — A father here, cries — 0, my son, my son ! That epitaph evinces filial love. Whilst this, our warmest sympathies should move. How such a one, of husband was bereft. But re-uniting soon, four orphans left.* These all proclaim the fact, that die w^e must, And here commingle with our parent dust. Oh ! sad the lot of him who, wand'ring wide. O'er desert wastes, no friendly hand to guide — Woe to the mariner, though stout of heart. On trackless seas, without a map or chart — * The author's owu case, except that memory is the ouly mouumenl. 53 Vain are his efforts to find home or friends, Ou whom Egyptian darkness still attends — Or 'midst the carnage of a battle-field. The mourner searching with a heart congeal'd— 'Tis even so with me — no pitying eye Directs my steps, where sleeping parents lie. Myself an exile when ye were removd, I witness'd not the last of those belov'd. Nor rade, nor polish d tablet maris the spot. And thus unmark'd, I recognise it not. Nor could the inmates of a cottage nigh. My eager-made enquiries satisfy. Let it suffice — the mourners standing here. Due honour render to those names so dear. Though no sepulchral urn your refuge shows. Here may your hallow'd ashes find repose. There still are zealous hearts in which ye live. And veneration to your mem'ries give. Your j)raise, on earth, may be withheld, or giv'n. But this we know, your record is in heav'n ; The willing tear is all we can for you. And thus retiring, breathe a sad adieu ! llomantic Vale ! 'tis now we feel thy powV, In having reach'd the final parting hour, B 5 o4 Though thou hast caus'cl a sleeping fire to burn. Yet from that cause, reluctantly we turn. Thou hast indeed supplied an amj^le store. For grave reflective thought to ponder o'er. Of all our earthly blessings, few excel The dear domestic circle, where we dwell, — Worn by fatigue, with pain or care opprest, 'Tis here we fly for solace, ease and rest; What pity — nay, disgrace and shame on man. To thwart his Maker's beneficial plan. To turn the social comforts into strife. And sink himself, his ofl'spriug, and his wife ! 'Tis thither now, from hence, our sjDirits roam. From one that ivas, to one that is a home. And though the ties are strong which bind us here, We find them yielding to attractions there. In passing through the village, we perceive The usual tokens how the peasants live; The little brook — our fav'rite through the dell — We now re-cross, exchanging Fare-thee-well ! Our homeward journey lies thro' Mansfield town (Of Robin Hood, and Chevy Chase renown). 55 A few resiDected friends await us there. The sequel of our enterprise to hear; As nothing strange appears within approach (Except, indeed, the Sheffield old mail coach), The scene, the time and season, all agree. Sweet Pleasley Vale, to meditate on thee. c6 66 ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT DAUGHTER. Commissiou'd by th' Almighty from on liigh. Who, when to take, and when to spare, knows best. Behold ! the slave of Fever rapid fly. And strike with certain aim the infant breast. Ah I whilst in health we seem secure to stand. We cannot upon death one thought bestow. Unless, by hearing that he's near at hand. May feel alarm lest we receive the blow. Or, should the sentence pass upon a friend. To linger out a life of wretched pain. We see them die, the solemn rite attend. May then awhile some thoughts on death retain j 57 When those who gave us birth — of titles dear — Are evidently hastening to decay, — Or when a partner, whom we love sincere. We've cause to doubt will soon be snatch'd away — 'Tis then we feel the wound — when these depart (And who in Nature that would feel it not), Th' impression is too deep upon the heart. Of past endearments, to be soon forgot. But Oh ! what grief and anguish were endur'd. To see the cruel, unrelenting foe Boldly advance, and of success insur'd. Dispatch the dart, and pierce his victim thro' ! why, thou universal tyrant, why Could'st thou not spare one victim of thy pow'r. For once have pity shown, in passing by. And left the budding newly-planted flow'r ? Ah, no ! it could not be, of no avail Were human efforts to reverse the doom ; And parents' tears, and prayers, could not pre- vail. To save their off'spring from an early tomb ! 58 'Twas bard indeed the coDflict to behold. Unable to relieve, •whilst standing round The suff'ring innocent. — No more be told — For new the scene appears, and ojDens fresh the wound ! Poor, vain, short-sighted mortals here below ! Who past the present moment cannot scan. Who fain th' all-'^'ise decrees would overthrow. Of heav'n, and dare to counteract its plan. Was it not He who gave, that took away. Who is all pow'r, as well as good and wise ? 'Twas God, who saw we should the trust betray. And call'd the darling object from our eyes ; He well foreknew what evils were design 'd. What cares and troubles, what disease and pain. The flesh to torture, and distract the mind. Had she been here permitted to remain. Cease, then, sur\'iving friends, forbear to mourn, Eather we should rejoice for her release — The angel spirit quickly was upborne. By sister cherubs to the realms of peace. 59 'Tis ours the dispensation to improve, And learn to live as we v^^ould wish to die, To serve the Lord with holy fear and love. And thus secure a mansion in the sky. There may we all again together meet. Where grief, and pain, and parting are no more, There sing His praise, and worship at His feet — Grant this, Q God of mercy ! we implore. IMPROMPTU, Inscribed on the Handle of an Umbrella. As this you spread. Above your head. To screen the outward part. May Virtue fair, A standard rear. To guard your guileless heart, c 8 60 TO AN N. I was glad the small token of fiiendship, I gave you A short time ago, was approv'd with a smile; May the wish it coutain'd, be conceded to save you, In all times and places, from evil and guile. And here let me venture to make a disclosure, Though I know not what treatment from you 'twill receive, Your prudence will shield me, I trust, from exposure, Your goodness, I know, will my errors forgive; And if, at the risk of your friendship and favour, T address you in language familiar and free, I hope both the past and my future behaviour. Will not deserve censure in any degree. Do you ask me the reason, T make this intrusion, Or why in your welfare should I feel coucern'd ? I only request you to draw your conclusion. When the cause that has urg'd me to write, you have learn'd. 61 There is one thing, however, I beg leave to mention. Having form'd an opinion in favour of you, For myself, I disclaim any evil intention, Nor have I one vain, selfish motive in view. 'Tis true the time has been, on such an occasion, Instead of soliciting sympathy's part, That I should have needed butlittle persuasion, T' have sued for a permanent place in your heart. Ah, Ann ! there's a pleasure in sympathy sharing, Of which heartless bosoms were never possess'd- May yours gently move, as the truth I'm declaring. And pity, soft pity, enliven your breast. With these observations, I now will endeavour To come to my story; which whilst I pursue, It awakens reflections on days gone for ever. That deepen and strengthen whene'er I see you , Ofttimes, in the course of my daily employment, I hear, or observe you, by chance or design, Your mind appears calm, with a peaceful enjoyment. Whilst various emcitions mav agitate mine — C 9 62 Emotions so various, I cannot describe them — A mixture partaking of pleasure and pain, 'Tis, in sLort,my dear friend, to yourself I ascribe them, The image oj one I may ne'er see again. For once, just as now, was I so situated. And she, like yourself, was engaging and young ; A mutual attachment our hearts animated, Nor dream'd what a destiny over them hung j E'en now, the love-symbols, of tokens and glances, "V\Tiich spoke more than words, are so fresh to my view. That being plac'd under such like circumstances, I could almost, from instinct, transmit them to you. Though fled are the scenes — still a fainter resemblance, Sufficient would be to revive them again, Your person alone brings her form to remembrance. And starts the wild visions that fly through my brain. Farewell, ye gay prospects —ye cheating delusions — Ye moments that brought them, how swiftly ye flew! And thou, dearest object of all their illusions. Once more I repeat the sad, tearful Adieu ! 63 But why do I wander ! — my friend must excuse me, For imagination would dwell on the theme ; And say, can you tender compassion refuse me, Or cold, unaffected, indifferent seem ? My heart whispers, No! But enough have I stated, And hasten to bring my complaints to an end. And if, like the writer, their doom is ill-fated, With him they must seek in the world for a friend. And when the time comes — as it will, I assure you (May you ever from painful reflections be free), That the scenes you have witness'd, will repass before you,— Oh say, my dear friend, will you then think on me ? Though vows may be broken, remembrance may perish, Disdain may succeed where attachment began, Extinct shall be reason, when i cease to cherish, A sacred respect for the dear name of Ann. 64 RESEMBLANCE AND REGRET. Will Ann pronounce me troublesome and rude, If thus again my verses I intrude ? Or shall Intrust my judgment and believe. These, like my last, she kindly will receive ? 'Tis this, I hojDe, and with that hope in view. Discharge a grateful task, so justly due ; I thank you most sincerely for that share Of sympathizing pity which you bear. Accept these thanks, and though the off'ring's -poor, Tis Friendship's tribute, and 'tis all my store. Permit me, then, in FriendshijD's sacred name. Your kind indulgence once again to claim : But having granted this, still would I ask, ^Yhat language must I use to suit the task ? Not fulsome flatt'ry's tongue, will serve my turn. This I abhor, and your good sense would spurn, 65 Nor yet by any means would I offend. Nor forfeit the esteem of you, my friend, Your mind or reputation injure, sooner far Would I a thousand times more torture bear; Then may some kindly pow'r my will restrain. And Prudence guide my heart with cautious rein. The common intercourse that bears the name Of friendship, needs but little skill to frame. And e'en for feelings of a softer kind, T should be at no loss, the words to find. But what expressions shall I use to tell. How, in my breast these tumults rise and swell ? This much, at least, I by experience know. That all the tender ties from friendship grow, 'Tis this begets esteem, which afterward In turn, produce affectionate regard. And these, my friend, if nurtur'd, mostly prove^ The source and parents of that urchin. Love. But to my case apply what term you will, I find myself the suff 'ring victim still. The day returns, and by returning brings A forc'd remembrance of forgotten things. And ev'ning, with a dreary gloom succeeds, When on its food the greedy fancy feeds. Whilst I, in view and hearing of my friend. In dismal solitude those ev'nings spend ; A thousand thoughts at once the mind beset. That baffles all my efforts to forget. And as disorder'd through the brain they dart. For ever present is your counterpart! When her expressive glance comes in review, I then instinctively look round for you. And seeing you, ofttimes behold that smile. That could my hours, my cares, my heart, be- guile ; Your voice — too seldom tho' I hear the sound — Yet in that voice, when heard, the lost is found. The silent motion of your^lips is bless'd (O may they ne'er by foul deceit be press'dj, ( For even there, her presense is confess'd. ] Thus looks, and words, and actions, all conspire. By adding fuel, to increase the fire, And thus, my friend, thus do you still remain. The undesigning cause of pleasing pain. Here, as I follow these delusive]dreams — With which the wild imagination teems — 67 They lead me back to joys that first began. In my acquaintance with your likeness, Ann : How that acquaintance into friendship grew, 1 need not, how it thriv'd, repeat to you: In our young hearts a mutual flame did burn. Too soon by cruel fate asunder torn ; Th' appointed hour would find us side by side. And swiftly would those happy moments glide. Our walks and rambles through the groves and fields. Where all her purest joys fair Nature yields — Or on the cheerful hearth, would mirth abound. The trick, the game, the song, by turns go round;, The decent joke with laughter fill the place. Or cause the maiden bkish, and cover'd face. Perhaps the country dance dXfete or fair. Sometimes, with leave obtain'd, would find us there. Tho' these in passing, raise th' obtrusive sigh. One more endearing picture meets the eye. And meeting dims it — censure if you can, 'Tis not the Jirst I've shed for lovely Ann — The reconciling tear, when ought amiss. The vow, the last^embrace, and parting kiss 68 Oh ! could I for one moment quit the scene. And like yourself, be peaceful and serene ! Say, can you not some happy plan devise. Which timely, and effective, will suffice To check these strange emotions of the soul. And bring them safely under due control ? As one who of her infant child bereav'd. And with a mother's anguish long hath griev'd. Beholds its image in another's face. And eager clasps it with a fond embrace. In lavish joy a short relief is found, Which ends in opening fresh the mental wound. For whilst invoking blessings on its head, A flash on conscience glares — 'Your own is dead ! ' Thus I with fruitless unavailing care. Indulge in hopes that lead but to despair. And prompted by like feelings must confess, 'Tis hard the sudden impulse to suppress. But ah ! my friend, what can all this avail. To change the doom, all my attempts must fail,' Then why should I my hapless fate bewail ? If I possess your friendship and respect. What more can you bestow or I expect ? 69 Then let me value these, and thereby prove, If not allow'd, at least deserving love. Hence then, recurring thoughts, and let me sing, How Time itself relief may shortly bring. That by events intentional, or strange. In our conditions will effect a change. When I no more with verses shall annoy That friend, at once the cause of grief and joy: And then — Ah ! let that friend imagine not. That Ann will then, or ever be forgot. May you be happy still, nor ever know. By sad experience, such amount of woe I Then, if by chance you should these lines review. May pity hear you say, dear friend, adieu ! LINES, Addressed to Mary Ann H- When love, true love, pervades the soul. Who eau the passion hide ? Can we its latent course control, Or stem the swelling tide ? No ; rather let us own its sway. And use our efforts, day by day. To spread it far and wide. To polar regions would I spurn, The heartless frigid drone. And send consuming lust to burn Within the torrid zone ; For these no real pleasures know. Nor taste the joys that constant flow From virtuous love alone. 71 To thee I write, my Mary dear, Thou whom I most esteem. Accept the token offer'd here. And love shall be my theme ; And whilst my lay thou dost repeat. Thy breast responsively will beat. Thine eye with ardour beam. What though reflection oft surveys — (For thought can never rest) — The varied scenes of bygone days. Yet still those da}S are blest; Though struggling conflicts, anxious cares. With hopes and doubts, and endless fears. Alternate fill'd each breast Tell me, my Mary, what strange pow'r. Of magic or of art ! At our first meeting (happy hour). Such feelings could impart ? What caus'd that fond expressive look ! Which pierc'd my very soul, and took Possession of my heart ? 72 What secret iufluence impell'd Those warm affections round— What, in your presence, aw'd and held Unhallow'd passion bound — What ultimately gave success To hope, and the sweet happiness. With which the whole is crown'd ? Was it not love, unsullied love. That did our hearts entwine, Whose origin is from above. Whose very name's divine ? And though mysterious was the way, For ever blessed be the day. That saw our spirits join ! Then should the world unite, and try Our constancy to move. Our hearts mor€ firmly knit thereby. This blessing shall improve ; Do thou each fond endearment use, Still tiirough my longing soul diffuse, These sentiments of Love. 73 But since all things below the skies. Are tainted with alloy — And cares and troubles will arise. To interrupt our joy — That briers and thorns, we know, may fill Our path, and crosses often will Our brightest hopes destroy — Still, even then, shall Love prevail — And 0, may I be found. When nature's trying hours assail. In kindness to abound ; Each bitter cup for thee assign'd. With love shall highly be refined. And make a sweet compound. If such is then the strength, indeed. Of nature's love alone, — O say, how far does that exceed. By the Redeemer shown ? Compar'd with creature happiness. What transports must that soul possess. The Saviour calls his own ? 74 O thou dear partner of my blood ! May this our portion be. As sons and daughters of our God, By His dear Son made free, O may His love, with rapturous joy. In heaven, our ceaseless tongues employ. To all eternity. TRANSPOSITION, OR THE CROSSED SHUTTERS. |Nlo| |i|n|c|o|m|e| |t|a!x1 betimes the other morn. In glaring style, did a shop front adorn ; The early risers, struck at such a sight. In wonder stood and star'd — as well they might. "What the old boy can mean by this," cries one, " I cannot tell, unless his credit's gone." "Ah," quoth another, with a shrewder nob, " I guess that's meant for a sly rap at Bob." "NVhile thus conjectures and remarks were made, Bv those who knew the man, and knew his trade, 75 The facts were these — uor let the hint be lost To others, how they get their matters cross'd. A stale old bachelor, of habits quaint. Had long kept up the said establishment, 'Mongst other whims, he took in his head To have, in black and white, and blue and red. One letter on each shutter, that, when clos'd. His name and calling should be well expos 'd. It happen'd so — just as it ought to be — His locum tenens was as quaint as he. Who often play'd extraor<iinary pranks. Not all of which secur'd his master's thanks; - Now, whether accidental or design'd We cannot say — though from report we find. At making anagrams he was proficient. Which, to suspect him, gives us grounds suf- ficient — But when he set the shutters up at night. He plac'd them so, that with the morning's light, Th' above ambiguous sentence did appear. Instead of— io| |e1 |c|o|x| 1t|i|n1h|a|n| being there. 76 DOMESTIC SOLITUDE. The afternoon was fine and warm. The room was shaded, trim and neat. The table spread — a glittering charm — For tea, in order and complete. Induc'd by thirst and appetite. To sit and freely drink and eat. But all was far from being right. Then how could I enjoy the treat ? For when a glance around I cast, Th' aceustom'd cheering smile to meet, A gloom stole over the repast. To see that lonely vacant seat. 77 Ah, well ! thought I, let sordid self His soul and senses try to cheat. And let the misanthropic elf. From all society retreat. But may it never be my fate, However life with ills replete. To want the social tender mate. Whose presence makes the bitter sweet 78 THE COMPLAINT OF THE TALL CHIMNEYS, On the Autliorities threatening to enforce the adoption of Smoke Preventers, or Consumers. Our complaining, we feel well aware. The fcite of most others will share. Yet relief to the mind, AVe frequently find. If its only just breath'd to the air. AVe are numerous, stately, and taper, InJIuentm], but subject to vapour. When urg'd by the stoker. With shovel or poker. You have seen us cause many a caper. Our usefulness Hall^ will confess. Nor can Williams* in candour do less, Y^et these by their science Have made the smoke fly hence. And brought us to this pretty mess. * Inventors of plans for abating the smoke nuisance. NotwitlistandiDg we rank very high, With the mandate we're bound to comply: So too mast the great Submit to their fate. As their time of debasement draws nigh. We acknowledge we used to look down On the pigmies below, with a frown. Nor ever presum'd To thus be outfum'd. By the commonest flues of the town. But let them beware of ambition. If they wish to avoid our condition. For some busy member. Before next September, May take up a smoky petition. Of the curls that were wont to adorn Our heads, we are shamefully shorn. Like so many mummies We stand, and the chummies — O fuiy ! — now treat us with scorn. As pity wont profit the dead — We need none,— yet this may be said. There's many fine fellows Who couldn't excel us. In twisting the fumes of the head. 80 TO MISS , On her twin sister setting off for America, on the day of her espousal. Then Betsy's gone ! Oh, how that word Lets fall its accent on the ear, — How oft the inquiry will be heard. With deep solicitude — Gone! where f* Let others adulate and praise. And sacrifice at Flattery's shrine ; To sing our loss, in humble lays. With friendly sympathy, be mine. Not bridal ramble, trip, nor tour. Nor yet the bounds of Britain's Isle, Could satisfy — she must explore The vast Atlantic's distant soil ; 81 Bid parents, sister, friends, adieu. For strangers on a foreign shore, And many places here that knew Her once, may know her now no more. 'Tis said, that those in birth who share. Through life a mutual feeling have ; And truly some, it might appear. Hold the connexion to the grave.* And when such nice similitude, DifFiis'd through ever}' part, we find. There is, we safely may conclude, A corresponding heart and mind. If so, why then, 'tis your's to tell, What strange inducement made her take A step so strange — how it befel She did her native home forsake ! Her native home — had that no pow'r To charm, — nor circles where she mov'd, 'Midst friends, to spend the social hour, Esteem'd, respected, and belov'd ? * Witness tlie late iirjparalleled tragedy at Portsmouth, where the demon Jones, after bavbarously slaying his wife and foreman^ inhumanly murdered the unconscious twin brothers. 82 Oh say ! — if you her feelings share — Do blighted hopes, or faded joy. With keen remorse, her bosom tear. Or deep regret, her jDeace alloy ? Or say, will sad experience cause The world to censure, friends to blame Her conduct, in the step she's chose — Or cast reflections on her name ? Can he, in whom she's ventur'd thus,' To place her confidence — her love — When far away from home — from us — Can he unkind, unfaithful prove ? No ! Heaven forbid — far hence the thought- A brighter picture let us view (Though but a glimpse by me be caught), Eeflected unto us by you. AYhile passing o'er the watery deep. May Providence each danger hide. Herself and hers in safety keep. And to the destin'd haven guide ; 83 May health, content, and new«founcl joys. Salute them, and their steps attend — She in her partner realize. Thro' lengthen'd life, a bosom-friend. Henceforth to you, shall we convey Inquiring looks — and thus discern. What passes in America — And thus your sister's welfare learn. And if the mirror of her soul. The index to her mind you be. May we observe throughout the whole, A cheerful sweet serenity. Ye, who compose the sacred choir,* Her absence you do know and feel; Who with her presence could inspire. And animate your joyful zeal; A tribute to her mem'ry pay — Some mournful farewell anthem sing; Or, by her sweetest fav'rite lay. Herself to your remembrance bring. Of the Wesleyan chapel, at the city of O * * * * « D 2 84 In plaintive strains, invoke the name Of Him, whom oft ye join'd to bless. To guard, preserve her, and redeem. And crown with endless happiness. Thus far attended bv the muse. And guided by her needful light. No longer aid would she diffuse, But rising, wing'd her airy flight. As one in darkness cautious goes. So I, reluctant and alone, Eetrac'd the vale from whence we rose. And heard the echo, Betsy s gone. 85 TO AN ABSENT SPOUSE, Talk of bachelors' fare, or a Benedict's life, I'd as soon be a hermit, as not have a wife; Men may say this or that, which is all very fine. And part with their ribs — so wouldn't I mine. Pronounce me a zany — I'd rather have two ! Than wander about like a jacketless Jew; — A fish out of water, a motherless calf. Might say (if thev could) we're more happy by half. I can get through the day-time, with something to do. But then there's the night, and fhis cold lueather too ! And further to show that I'm such a queer-thing, I'd have come yesterday, for the toss of a farthing. After all, I'm not grumbling, but only just tell you, I don't like the change, but this you as well knew; Fortho'I'm well done by, and need not complain, I don't care how soon I shall see you again. D 3 86 LINES, On receiving from a friend, on the last day in the year, a silver case of ever-pointed pencils, with which they were written on the following day, hut from tvhom the author can elicit no more than her Christian name. Tho' late thou cam'st, I welcome thee. Thou precious little toy ; And thy first pleasing task shall be. To give the donor thanks for me. And wish her New-year's joy. An emblem of my life, dost thou By chequer'd work display ; The cases differ, I allow, — This bright and smooth — but mine, I vow, A drear}' rugged way. 87 Dear Friendship's pledge ! and dearer still To me had been the boon. If thou could'st thy own case reveal. Or had'st but just the power to tell What thou hast seen and done. Not that I would her secrets know, ' But let me ask thee why Thou did'st not bring a line, or so. Or but one word— her name to show — On quitting her employ. Did she not write it down, and then — (These maidens are so coy) — Erase, and write it o'er again. And lastly, burn it ? Fie on Jane i My hopes thus to destroy. Perhaps thou left'st her with regret — No wonder — so should I ; But tell her thou a friend hast met, Who has adopted thee his pet. And heard'st him say these words, " Forget ? ^' No, never till I die." D 3 88 TO AN OLD MAID, On lamenting the loss of a favourite Toad. A monkey, parrot, or a cat. Some "will with favours load Without disputing this or that, I siugr a nut-brown toad. 'o Ko more beneath the old sage-tree, .My toady's fragrant bower. He'll sprawling lie to welcome me. At twilight's 'witching hour. A naughty hand did throw a stone. At his dear harmless head. Where those two eyes like diamonds shone- Had they been made of lead ! 89 Oh ! what a wicked world is it — A sad old maid's abode. Where, just because they thought he'd spit. To kill my daiiing toad ! Yet innocence itself he was — Whatever others be — And he shall have a resting-place, Under the old sage tree. Ye crickets, cease your merry notes. Ye grasshoppers, be dumb ! Or pour a requiem from your throats. O'er my poor Toady's tomb. d4 90 ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF A MEMORABLE DAY. My Mary, it is now some time Since last I penn'd a lay; My subjects never were sublime, Yet, being attached, you know, to rhyme, I'll sing — The other day. The other day ! Why, what a theme ! 1 think I hear you say ; And truly it may trifling seem, But as there's something in a dream. So in— The other day. The other night— it happen'd so — (You smile, and well you may). The second instant — a propos — You said, that " fourteen years ago Stem'd like— The other day." 91 ** Now for a verse or two," thought I, And set to work straightway ; And thus did you the text supply. For me to frame this ditty by. About— The other day. What sentence could be more desir'd, A notion to convey. About when past events transpir'd, Which are not definite requir'd, , Than this— The other day ? The journalist, who writes for bread. Will bring it into play; When short of dates, finds in their stead A substitute, so easy said, " Occurred— The other day !" The gossips know its use full well (And who so well as they); Inquire when this or that befel ^ " Indeed, I can't exactly tell. But 'twas — The other day.' . 92 And grandmamma will raise her hands. And thus herself betray : " This is not he before me stands. Who went from us, to foreign lands, A child— The other day?" If youth should east a glance behind. He's little to survey ; But when reflection fills the mind. Maturity and age will find Exjjos'd — The other day. 'Tis even so, my Mary dear. Nor will thou answer nay ; For scenes I need not mention here. Although long past, review'd appear Just like— The other day. Yes ! Fourteen years, since first we met. Have glided swift away. Without occasion to regret That interview at least — nor yet To rue — The other day. 93 The flame of love, at first that burn'd. Which seldom long doth stay. Now to a steady glow is turn'd. As warm around our hearts discern'd, As on — The other day. What fourteen more shall bring to pass, Is not for us to say ; We each can testify, alas ! *' I'm so much older than I was Upon — The other day." Vicissitudes the past hath brought. And future will display; With clouds and sunshine life is fraught. We, by experience, have been taught, E'er since — The other day. The pledges that around us throng. With spirits light and gay. Scarce know, as yet, true right from wrong. Like us, must call to mind, ere long. Scenes of— The other day. 94 And ah ! the ties that have been broke. Our fathers, where are they ? How many names might I invoke. Who liv'd and mov'd, who thought and spoke With us — The other day. To these, while mem'ry holds her right. The tribute due we'll pay ; And then, to make our burthens light. May Duty, Hope, and Love unite To bless each other day. Accept this faithful token then — Perhaps my last essay — And Mary, dearest Mary, when We part, O may we meet again In an Eternal Day. LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. Pleas ley Va le. W. HoUins, Esquire Mr. W. Adams Mr. R. Arm son Mr. J. Brooke Mr. H. Burton Mr. W. I. Chipman Mr. D. Comery Mr. G. Comery Mr. J. Cutler Mr. T. Cutler Mr. J. Else Mr. F. Hays Mr. S. Hay ward Mr. J. Sims. Mr. T. Sims Mrs. E. Slaney Mr. T. Wilcock Pleas ley. Mr J, Bingley Mr. J. Fox. Mr. C. Hays Mr. J. Holehouse Mr. W. Holehouse. Mr. J. Pizer Mr." J. Taylor Mr. W. With am Mansfield Woodhouse. Mr. J. Abdy Mr. J. Bull Mr. J. Sampson Mr. R. Shaw Mr. J. Watts Mr. R. Whiting 96 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS CONTINUED. Shirebrook. Mr. W. Frith Stvffi)i Wood. Mr. T. Lucas Mansfield. Mr. T. Barker Mr. J. Birks Mr. J. Boler Mr Bunting I\Ir. W. Bradshaw Mr. S. Foster Mr. J. Greenhalgh Mr. E. Hard wick Mr. W. Hardwick Mr. J. B. Harvey Mrs. A. Jepson Mr. T. Kershaw Mr. T. Kirkland Mr. G. Langley Mr. W. Midworth — Paulson, Esq., M, Mr. J. Rycroft Mr. J. Simes Mr. J. Simes, jun. Mr. J. Wassop Mr R. Watson Miss Winter A Friend Nottingham. Miss E. Barradale Mrs. A. Barroclough Miss M. Beadles Mr. H. Blundell Mr. J. Bradley Mr. W. Bradshaw Mr. T. Brown Miss E.Brown Miss E. Bullock Mr. J. Burrows Mr. W. Cave Mr. S. Calah Mr. T. Chetham D.Mr J.Chiswell LIST Oi' SUBSCRIBERS CONTINUED. 97 Miss E. Clements Mr. W. Cope Mr. W. Cooper Mr. D. Cox Mr. W. Coulby Mr. B. Cutler Miss E. Daft Mr. J. Dickisson Mr. M. Doubleday Mr. J. Edwards Miss E. Ellis Miss S Ellis Miss E. Elliott Mr. W. Foster Mr. J. Gamble Mr. J. Goodhead Miss M. A Hallam Miss S. A Hallam Mr. T. Harrison Mr. G. Herbert Mr. J. Hill Mr. E. Hind Mr. H. Hogg Mr. T. HoUand Mr. W. Holland Mr. J. Holland Mr. S. HolUns Mr. T. Holmes Mr. T. Holmes, jun. Mr. S. Hooton Miss E. M. Howitt Mr. W. Hutchinson Miss S. Jepson Mr. E. Johnson Mr. W. King Mr. L. Lee Mr. J. Lacey oNIiss M. A. Lacey Mr. T. Lakin Mr. W. Lou gm ire Mr. F. Lomas Mr. J. Manderfield Mr. J. Manning Mr. W. Martin Mr. H. Marriott Mr. H. Massey 98 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS CONTINUED. Mr. T. Mattock Mr. Maxfield Mr. J. Mellows Mr. J. Merry INIr. W. MHiier Mr. J. Newton Mr. S. Oscroft Mr. H. Palmer Miss F. Palmer Mr. W. Palmer Mr. W. Parrott IVIr. J. W. Pink Mr. H. Eedgate Mr. J. Eedgate Mrs. E. Reeves Mr. J. Simpson Miss S. Smith Mrs. E. Sheard Mr. J. Sutton Mr. B. Toone Mr. F. Trout Mr. T. Underwood Mr. W. Vickars Messrs. Walker Mr. J. Wheat Eev. J. White Mr. S. Whitehall Miss M. A. Wigley Miss S. A. Williamson Mr. W. Wright Miss S. Wylde Mrs. E. B. " Quallon " Derby. Mr. J. Bromhead Mr. Burt Mr. J. Haywood Mr. W. Haywood Mr. Maude Mr. F. K Wheeldon LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS CONTINUED. 99 London. Mr. J. F. Armson Mr. E. F. Crow Mr. Charles Ingall Mr. C. B. Langley, Thornhill sq., Islington. Mr. J. S. Langley, King's cross. Mr. G. Lowe Mr. J. Lowe Miss M. Lowe Miss L. Lowe Mr. J. Lowe, jun. Mr. I. Stemstone Miss E. Whitton Kirk & Underwood, Printers, Peter gate, Nottingham. KIRK & UNDERWOOD, PRINTERS, STATIONERS, &c., PETER-GATE, NOTTINGHAM. K. & U. take this opportunity of stating that they are now offering the following books at very reduced prices. MEMOIRS of the Life of Colonel Hutchinson LAMARTINE'S Histcry of the Girondist^ French Revolutions RANKE'S Popes MILTON'S Prose Works JUNIUS'S Letters TAYLOR'S Holy Living and Dying NEANDER'S Church History First Planting of Christianity Life of Christ GREGORY'S Evidences of Christianity ANDREW FULLER'S Principal Works WHITE'S Natural History of Selhorne PYE SMITH'S Geology and Scripture BROWN'S (Sir Thomas) Vulgar Error* HOMER,S Odyssey, Hymns, &c., CICERO'S Offices, &c. LECTURES to Young Men DICK'S Christian Philosopher Philosophy of a Future State — — — — — Religion ■ Improvement of Society VINET'S Gospel Studies DICKINSON'S Religious Teaching by Example PASCAL'S Provincial Letters RESPONSES of the Sacred Oracles GLEANINGS among the Mountains COMFORT in Affliction THE MISSIONARY in the ^Vilderness DIVINE INSPIRATION of the Scriptures, &c. &c. This book IS DUE on the last date stamped below. MAY 2 M Eu » 'S.istt» '!aSi'tiS& ooq ILL/^HM [;Im' ctlXV -% vmvE UC SOUTMcpM PC-;. B 000 014 361 ■jy\