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PAGE In my own Album
558 Angel Help
559 The Christening
560 On an Infant dying as soon as born
560 The Young Catechist
562 She is Going
563 To a Young Friend on her Twenty-first Birthday.
563 Harmony in Unlikeness
564 Written at Cambridge.
565 To a celebrated Female Performer in the “Blind Boy"
566 To Samuel Rogers, Esq.
567 The Gipsy's Malison..
567 To the Author of Poems published under the Name of Barry Cornwall 568 To J. S. Knowles, Esq., on his Tragedy of Virginius.
568 To the Editor of the Every-day Book”.
569 To T. Stothard, Esq., on his Illustrations of the Poems of Mr. Rogers 570 To a Friend on his Marriage
570 The Self-enchanted ..
571 To Louisa M-, whom I used to call “Monkey”
572 Oh lift with Reverent hand
572 On a Sepulchral Statue of an Infant Sleeping
573 The Rival Bells ..
573 Epitaph on a Dog..
574 The Ballad-singers
575 To David Cook, of the Parish of Saint Margaret's, Westminster, Watchman
576 On a Deaf and Dumb Artist
578 Newton's Principia
578 The Housekeeper
579 The Female Orators
579 Pindaric Ode to the Tread-mill
580 Going or Gone ......
582 Free Thoughts on several Eminent Composers
585 The Wife's Trial; or, the Intruding Widow.
PO E MS.
WHEN maidens such as Hester die, Their place ye may not well supply Though ye among a thousand try,
With vain endeavour.
A month or more hath she been dead,
And her together.
A springy motion in her gait,
That flush'd her spirit.
I know not by what name beside
She did inherit.
Her parents held the Quaker rule, Which doth the human feeling cool, But she was train’d in Nature's school,
Nature had bless'd her.
A waking eye, a prying mind,
Ye could not Hester.
My sprightly neighbour, gone before
Some summer morning,
When from thy cheerful eyes a ray
Hath struck a bliss upon the day
A sweet forewarning?
TO CHARLES LLOYD,
AN UNEXPECTED VISITER.
ALONE, obscure, without a friend,
A cheerless, solitary thing,
social scenes, homebred delights,
That him in aught compensate may For Stowey's pleasant winter nights,
For loves and friendships far away? In brief oblivion to forego
Friends, such as thine, so justly dear, And be a while with me content
To stay, a kindly loiterer, here: For this a gleam of random joy
Hath flush'd my unaccustom'd cheek; And, with an o'ercharged, bursting heart,
I feel the thanks I cannot speak.
Oh! sweet are all the muses' lays,
And sweet the charm of matin bird; 'Twas long since these estranged ears
The sweeter voice of friend had heard.
The voice hath spoke: the pleasant sounds
In mem'ry's ear in after time
And sometimes prompt an honest rhyme. For, when the transient charm is fled,
And when the little week is o'er, To cheerless, friendless solitude
When I return as heretofore,
Long, long within my aching heart
The grateful sense shall cherish'd be; I'll think less meanly of myself,
That Lloyd will sometimes think on me.
THE THREE FRIENDS.
THREE young maids in friendship met;
Fortune upon each one smiled,
In the depth of her affliction
In this scene of earthly things Not one good unmixed springs. That which had to Martha proved A sweet consolation, moved Different feelings of regret In the mind of Margaret. She, whose love was not less dear, Nor affection less sincere. To her friend, was, by occasion Of more distant habitation, Fewer visits forced to pay her, When no other cause did stay her ; And her Mary living nearer, Margaret began to fear her, Lest her visits day by day Martha's heart should steal away. That whole heart she ill could spare her, Where till now she'd been a sharer. From this cause with grief she pined, Till at length her health declined. All her cheerful spirits flew, Fast as Martha gather'd new; And her sickness waxed sore, Just when Martha felt no more.
Mary, who had quick suspicion Of her alter'd friend's condition, Seeing Martha's convalescence Less demanded now her presence, With a goodness, built on reason, Changed her measures with the season; Turn’d her steps from Martha's door, Went where she was wanted more ; All her care and thoughts were set Now to tend on Margaret.