And light us safely o'er the shoals of love,
Into the peaceful haven of success!

And then, indulgent heav'n, if my fate
Be sad discomfiture, still favour her,
And give her, to compensate my defeat,
The sweetest portion of thy sweetest cup.

TO A LADY,

WHO, UPON RECEIVING A FLOWER, OBSERVED THAT NATURE COULD NOT HAVE MADE IT MORE PERFECT.

COULD Nature do no more for this fair flower?

Assert it not, fair maid—it is not true;

To make a fairer she had surely power,

་

Who made a fairer when she modell'd you *.

*For the thought of this little piece, and one of the lines, the Author

confesses himself to have been indebted to an ingenious friend.

IN

CANZONET 11.

In my bosom contentment shall reign,

And despair shall torment me no more; I have seen my lov'd fair one again,

And she came with a smile to my door.

I have seen her, tho' transient her stay,
Tho' time would not loiter and wait;
And the show'r has not yet wash'd away
The small print of her foot at my gate.

Rapid day, the strong reason explain

Why thy steeds were so quick to be gone, To remove my sweet angel again,

And to leave me to linger alone.

Come again, and, to merit my praise,
Travel slow thro' the regions above,
And I'll give thee the gratefullest lays

Which can flow from the bosom of love.

LINES INSERTED IN A POCKET-BOOK.

301

O return, and, to win my good will,

When I see her approach from afar, Turn thy steeds with their heads to a hill, And lock fast ev'ry wheel of thy car.

LINES

INSERTED IN A POCKET-BOOK.

Go, little book, I charge thee post away;
To the fair hand of her I love depart,
And in soft numbers to her eye convey
The still confession of a wounded heart.

Whisper the hopeless passion in her ear,
Which thy sad master can no longer hide;
And say, not Lyttelton was more sincere

When at his Lucy's grave he fondly sigh'd.

Go, and return not; but from day to day
Plead for affection till her heart approve;

Go, and return not, but for ever stay,

The sacred pledge of unforbidden love.

For know, if to this hand these leaves return,

And to this heart unwelcome tidings bear, Thou must a flame-devoted victim burn

Upon the kindled altar of despair.

But if thou stay, and her propitious eye
Delight to read my undissembling line,
Thy precious memory shall never die,
But live eternal as her love and mine.

TO THE MOON.

REPLENISH'D Moon, whose unobstructed beam

Once more upon

the windows of my cot

Shines with such sweet indulgence, welcome still!

I bid thee welcome with a cheerful heart,

Which loves thy gentle mitigated ray,

And the sweet smile of mute benevolence
Which glows upon thy brow-whether thy orb
Rise in the tranquil hour, and climb in peace
The azure concave of unclouded heav'n,

Or leave its couch to cross a stormy sky,

And post triumphantly from cloud to cloud-
Or whether thy pure beam shed second day
Upon a frosty scene of hills and dales

Cover'd with winter's snow, or dimly rise
From autumn's purple east with aspect streak'd,
Tawny, and slowly bright'ning, as subsides

The ray of mellow ev'ning in the west-
Yes, I still love thee, and thy rising hail

With all the little music which the lyre

Struck by my hand can utter.

Yet, fair moon,

gone.

Much as I love thee, let me wish thee

Empty thy golden globe. Reverse thy horns,

Swiftly renewing, till thy ample orb

Once more arrive at her full-lumin'd hour.

For know, unwearied empress of the night,

Soon as thy lamp industrious shall have run
Its phasy circuit round the tardy earth,
So soon I meet the fair one I adore,

My promise-bound companion in the dance.