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To a FRIEND, on presenting him with a Volume of M.S.S. Poems
By WILLIAM CASE, Junr.
To thee, who lov'st what Latian Poets sing,
Fram'd oft as Fancy whisper'd in mine ear;
Yet will the Donor's name the wreath endear.. O would the violet here its sweets diffuse,
Or lily of the vale in snowy stole appear!
Thou then art come again NECESSITY!
Unwelcome visitor, to whom the door
Must open, thou art come to me once more
Asserts thine offspring; he should visit me,
Inspirer of the needful rhyme, is he.
And he must thank thee tor his Sonnet now.
Farewell my home, my home no longer now,
To W. L. Esq. while he sung a Song to Purcell's Music.
While my young cheek retains its healthful hues
My daily bread in tears and bitterness;
With no beloved face by my bed-side
O God! such strains breath'd by my angel guide Would make me pass the cup of anguish by, Mix with the blest, nor know that I had died!
Porlock, thy verdant vale so fair to sight,
Thy woody glens, the traveller with delight
Porlock, I also shall forget thee not,
Here by the unwelcome summer rain confined,
How here, a patient prisoner 'twas my lot