EPISTLE TO A FRIEND.

Then cautious let us steer the bark of Youth,
With Friendship leagued and innocence and truth,
Let us not rashly dangerous depths explore,
Nor shrink with terror when the billows roar;
Firm in our trust let us thro' seas contend,
And on the arm Omnipotent depend.

Tho' fools may laugh and meet us with disdain,
Let us proceed, and bid them laugh in vain.
What tho' unknown to Honour and to Fame,
And greatness owns no letter of our name,
Then we'll escape all their consuming woes,

Nor know those cares which haughty grandeur

knows.

Beneath the storm in peace and safety dwell,
The straw-thatch'd cottage and the silent cell;
But shook by winds the oak's thick branches spread,
And lightnings blast the towering mountain's head.
Happy the Man, who in the gloom of night,
Still sees thro' darkness day's approaching light;
Who hopes in sorrow, and while prosperous, fears,
Who looks for worlds beyond the vale of tears:
Tho' keen afflictions cloud his present day,
The time is near when these shall pass away,
When brighter scenes shall meet his raptur'd sight,
And brighter glories in the world of light.

EPISTLE TO A FRIEND.

Now winter's gathering glooms o'erspread the And all is bleak and cheerless to the eye:

[sky,

How fares my friend on Hudson's rugged brow,
Where cold is keener, louder tempests blow?
Say now what object does thy thought inspire,
While thou art shivering o'er thy blazing fire?
Behold I send you from my Muse again,

A long, a daring, and didactic strain;
Receive this volume from your early friend,
And lash with mercy where you can't commend;
I come no suppliant at the critic's throne,
I ask for justice, and for this alone.

Before you read, methinks I hear you say,
"My friend is toiling in his usual way.
The Powers of Genius,--there my friend beware!
I fear your fate---like Phæton you may fare;
Who, rashly seeking that which he should shun,
Thought he could drive the chariot of the sun,
But who, cast headlong from the dazzling height,
Was plung'd for ever in the depths of Night.

"The force you lead demands an high com

mand,

The bow you bend demands a giant's hand;
The world censorious may your powers deride,

And these compare with those you would describe;

EPISTLE TO A FRIEND.

You should have chosen quite a different strain,
And sung of shepherds piping on the plain."
Is this your language---O my friend forbear,
If thus you censure, what have I to fear?
How can I bid you modestly, proceed--
And censure only when you strictly read?

This Day is published, elegantly printed in Foolscap 8vo, embellished with Engravings by SCOTT, from Paintings by SARTORIUS, price 6s. 6d. Boards;

THE

CHASE;

A POEM:

BY WILLIAM SOMERVILE, ESQ.

To which is prefixed

A BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF THE AUTHOR's LIFE; AND
A PREFACE,

CRITICAL AND EXPLANATORY:

Together with some Annotations on the Text, and nature of the Poem.

By EDWARD TOPHAM, Esq.

1

Another Edition on large Paper, Price 10s. in boards.

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