GRATITUDE. ADDRESSED TO LADY HESKETH. THIS cap, that so stately appears, With ribbon-bound tassel on high, Which seems by the crest that it rears Ambitious of brushing the sky:" This cap to my cousin I owe, She gave it, and gave me beside, Wreathed into an elegant bow, The ribbon with which it is tied. This wheel-footed studying chair, Contrived both for toil and repose, These carpets, so soft to the foot, Caledonia's traffic and pride, Secure from collision and dust, This moveable structure of shelves, This china, that decks the alcove, Has ne'er been revealed to us yet; All these are not half that I owe And foe of our perishing kind, In many such fancies as these; And fancies I fear they will seem― Poet's goods are not often so fine; The poets will swear that I dream, When I sing of the splendour of mine. THE FLATTING-MILL. AN ILLUSTRATION. WHEN a bar of pure silver, or ingot of gold, Like a loose heap of ribbon, a glittering show, Like music it tinkles and rings in your ears, And, warmed by the pressure, is all in a glow, Alas for the poet! who dares undertake And catch in its progress a sensible glow. After all, he must beat it as thin and as fine For truth is unwelcome, however divine, TO MRS. THROCKMORTON, ON HER BEAUTIFUL TRANSCRIPT OF HORACE'S ODE, MARIA, Could Horace have guessed The honour which you have bestowed, So elegant, even and neat, He had laughed at the critical sneer, Which he seems to have trembled to meet. And sneer if you please he had said, A nymph shall hereafter arise, Who shall give me, when you are all dead, The glory your malice denies, Shall dignity give to my lay, Although but a mere bagatelle; And even a poet shall say, Nothing ever was written so well. STANZAS O the late indecent liberties taken with the remains of the great Milton-Anno 1790. "ME too, perchance, in future days, The sculptured stone shall show, *But I, or ere that season come, Bo sang, in Roman tone and style, Who then but must conceive disdain, Of wretches who have dared profane Ill fare the hands that heaved the stones That trembled not to grasp his bones O ill-requited bard! neglect TO MRS. KING. Do her kind Present to the Author, a Patch-work Counterpane of her own making. THE Bard, if e'er he feel at all, To pay with tuneful thanks the care A bed like this, in ancient time, (As Homer's Epic shows) Less beautiful, however gay, Forsitan et nostros ducat de marmore vultus Necteus aut Paphia myrti aut Parnasside lauri Fronde comas-At ego secura pace quiesquam. Milton in Mansa. Who, laying his long scythe aside, What labours of the loom I see! To scramble for the patch that bears The bell would toll for some. And oh, what havoc would ensue! All in a moment fled! As if a storm should strip the bowers Thanks, then, to every gentle fair As bird of borrowed feather, Who put the whole together. THE JUDGMENT OF THE POETS. Two nymphs, both nearly of an age, The worth of each had been complete, But one, although her smile was sweet, The other was of gentler cast, To poets of renown in song The nymphs referred the cause, They gentle called, and kind and soft, The flippant and the scold, And though she changed her mood so oft, No judges, sure, were e'er so mad, Or so resolved to err→ In short, the charms her sister had Then thus the god whom fondly they Since thus ye have combined," he said, "The minx shall, for your folly's sake, EPITAPH ON MRS. M. HIGGINS, OF WESTON. LAURELS may flourish round the conqueror's tomb, But happiest they, who win the world to come: Believers have a silent field to fight, And their exploits are veiled from human sight. They in some nook, where little known they dwell, Kneel, pray in faith, and rout the hosts of hell; THE RETIRED CAT. A POET's Cat, sedate and grave I know not where she caught the trick But love of change it seems has place And the old utensil of tin Was cold and comfortless within: A drawer it chanced, at bottom lined Of depth enough, and none to spare, And lulled by her own humdrum song, But all unconscious whom it held. Awakened by the shock, (cried puss) Then came the maid, and it was closed. I will resign myself to rest Till Sol declining in the west, Shall call to supper, when, no doubt, The evening came, the sun descended, With hunger pinched, and pinched for room, That night, by chance, the poet, watching, And to himself he said-" what's that?" He drew the curtain at his side, And forth he peeped, but nothing spied. Yet, by his ear directed, guessed Consoled him and dispelled his fears; MORAL. Beware of too sublime a sense TO THE NIGHTINGALE, WHICH THE AUTHOR HEARD SING ON NEW-YEAR'S DAY. WHENCE is it, that amazed I hear From yonder withered spray, This foremost morn of all the year, The melody of May? And why, since thousands would be proud Am I selected from the crowd To witness it alone? Sing'st thou, sweet Philomel, to me, Have practised in the groves like thee, Thrice welcome then! for many a long And joyless year have I, As thou to-day, put forth my song Beneath a wintry sky. But thee no wintry skies can harın, SONNET. TO WILLIAM WILBERFORCE, ESQ. THY Country, Wilberforce, with just disdain, Hears thee by cruel men and impious called Frantic, for thy zeal to loose the enthralled From exile, public sale, and slavery's chain. Friend of the poor, the wronged, the fettergalled, Fear not lest labour such as thine be vain. Thou hast achieved a part; hast gained the ear Of Britain's senate to thy glorious cause; Hope smiles, joy springs, and though cold caution pause And weave delay, the better hour is near That shall remunerate thy toils severe By peace for Afric, fenced with British laws. Enjoy what thou hast won, esteem and love From all the just on earth, and all the blest above. EPIGRAM. PRINTED IN THE NORTHAMPTON MERCURY. To purify their wine some people bleed TO DR. AUSTIN, OF CECIL-STREET, LONDON. AUSTIN! accept a grateful verse from me, health; Yet, if extensive fame and sure to live, Friend of my friend!* I love thee, tho' unknown, And boldly call thee, being his, my own. Since therefore I seem to incur And now I will try with another, Which I can not suppress for my lifeHow soon I can make her a mother. SONNET. ADDRESSED TO WILLIAM HAYLEY, ESQ. HAYLEY-thy tenderness fraternal shown, In our first interview, delightful guest! To Mary and me for her dear sake distressed, Such as it is has made my heart thy own, Though heedless now of new engagements grown; For threescore winters make a wintry breast, And I had purposed ne'er to go in quest Of Friendship more, except with God alone; But thou hast won me: nor is God my foe, Who ere this last afflictive scene began, Sent thee to mitigate the dreadful blow. My brother, by whose sympathy I know Thy true deserts infallibly to scan, Not more t'admire the bard than love the man. CATHARINA. On her Marriage to George Courtnay, Esq. BELIEVE it or not as you choose, The doctrine is certainly true, To see Catharina at home, At the side of my friend George's fire, Such prophecy some may despise, And therefore attains to its end. Mariat would leave us, I knew, To the grief and regret of us all, But less to our grief, could we view Catharina the queen of the hall. And therefore I wished as I did, And therefore this union of hands Not a whisper was heard to forbid, But all cry-amen-to the bans. SONNET. TO GEORGE ROMNEY, ESQ. On his picture of me in crayons, drawn at Eartham in the 61st year of my age, and in the months of August and Sep. tember, 1792. ROMNEY expert, infallibly to trace On chart or canvass, not the form alone And semblance, but, however faintly shown, The mind's impression too on every faceWith strokes that time ought never to erase, Thou hast so penciled mine, that though I own The subject worthless, I have never known The artist shining with superior grace. But this I mark-that symptoms none of wo In thy incomparable work appear. Well-I am satisfied it should be so, Since, on maturer thought, the cause is clear; For in my looks what sorrow couldst thou see When I was Hayley's guest, and sat to thee? ON RECEIVING HAYLEY'S PICTURE. IN language warm as could be breathed or penned, Thy picture speaks th' original, my friend, Not by those looks that indicate thy mindThey only speak thee friend of all mankind; Expression here more soothing still I see, That friend of all a partial friend to me. ON A PLANT OF VIRGIN'S BOWER. DESIGNED TO COVER A GARDEN-SEAT. THRIVE, gentle plant! and weave a bower And deck with many a splendid flower Thou cam'st from Eartham, and wilt shade (If truly I divine) Some future day th' illustrious head Of Him who made thee mine. |