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"Well, then, I vow, 'tis mighty clever,
Now I long ten times more than ever
To be advanced extremely near
One of his shining character."-

"Have but the will-there wants no

more,

'Tis plain enough you have the power.
His easy temper (that's the worst)
He knows, and is so shy at first.
But such a cavalier as you--

Lord, sir, you'll quickly bring him to!"
"Well; if I fail in my design,
Sir, it shall be no fault of mine.
If by the saucy servile tribe
Denied, what think you of a bribe?
Shut out to-day, not die with sorrow,
But try my luck again to-morrow.
Never attempt to visit him
But at the most convenient time,
Attend him on each levee day,
And there my humble duty pay.
Labour, like this, our want supplies;
And they must stoop, who mean to rise."
While thus he wittingly harangued,
For which you'll guess I wished him
hanged,

Campley, a friend of mine, came by,
Who knew his humour more than I.
We stop, salute, and-" Why so fast,

Friend Carlos? whither all this haste?"
Fired at the thoughts of a reprieve,
I pinch him, pull him, twitch his sleeve,
Nod, beckon, bite my lips, wink, pout,
Do everything but speak plain out:
While he, sad dog, from the beginning,
Determined to mistake my meaning,
Instead of pitying my curse,

66

By jeering made it ten times worse. 'Campley, what secret, pray, was that You wanted to communicate?" "I recollect. But 'tis no matter. Carlos, we'll talk of that hereafter. E'en let the secret rest. "Twill tell Another time, sir, just as well."

Was ever such a dismal day? Unlucky cur! he steals away, And leaves me, half bereft of life, At mercy of the butcher's knife; When sudden, shouting from afar, See his antagonist appear! The bailiff seized him quick as thought. "Ho, Mr. Scoundrel! Are you caught? Sir, you are witness to the arrest.' "Ay, marry, sir, I'll do my best.' The mob huzzas; away they trudge, Culprit and all, before the judge. Meanwhile I luckily enough (Thanks to Apollo) got clear off.

ADDRESSED TO MISS MACARTNEY,

AFTERWARDS MRS. GREVILLE, ON READING HER 66

AND dwells there in a female heart,
By bounteous heaven designed

The choicest raptures to impart,
To feel the most refined;

Dwells there a wish in such a breast
Its nature to forego,

To smother in ignoble rest

At once both bliss and woe?

Far be the thought, and far the strain,
Which breathes the low desire,
How sweet soe'er the verse complain,
Though Phoebus string the lyre.

Come then, fair maid (in nature wise),
Who, knowing them, can tell
From generous sympathy what joys
The glowing bosom swell;

PRAYER FOR INDIFFERENCE

In justice to the various powers
Of pleasing, which you share,
Join me, amid your silent hours,
To form the better prayer.

With lenient balm may Oberon hence
To fairy-land be driven,
With every herb that blunts the sense
Mankind received from heaven.

"Oh! if my Sovereign Author please,
Far be it from my fate
To live unblest in torpid ease,

And slumber on in state;

"Each tender tie of life defied,
Whence social pleasures spring.
Unmoved with all the world beside.
A solitary thing."

Some Alpine mountain wrapt in snow,
Thus braves the whirling blast,
Eternal winter doomed to know,
No genial spring to taste;

In vain warm suns their influence shed,
The zephyrs sport in vain,
He rears unchanged his barren head,
Whilst beauty decks the plain.

What though in scaly armour dressed,
Indifference may repel

The shafts of woe, in such a breast
No joy can ever dwell.

'Tis woven in the world's great plan,
And fixed by Heaven's decree,
That all the true delights of man
Should spring from Sympathy.
'Tis Nature bids, and whilst the laws
Of Nature we retain,
Our self-approving bosom draws
A pleasure from its pain.

Thus grief itself has comforts dear
The sordid never know;
And ecstasy attends the tear,
When virtue bids it flow.

For when it streams from that pure source,

No bribes the heart can win, To check, or alter from its course, The luxury within.

Peace to the phlegm of sullen elves,

Who, if from labour eased, Extend no care beyond themselves, Unpleasing and unpleased.

Let no low thought suggest the prayer! Oh! grant, kind Heaven, to me, Long as I draw ethereal air,

Sweet Sensibility!

Where'er the heavenly nymph is seen,
With lustre-beaming eye,
A train, attendant on their queen,
(Her rosy chorus) fly.

The jocund Loves in Hymen's band,
With torches ever bright,

And generous Friendship hand in hand,
With Pity's watery sight.

The gentler Virtues too are joined,
In youth immortal warm,
The soft relations which combined
Give life her every charm.

The Arts come smiling in the close,
And lend celestial fire;

The marble breathes, the canvas glows,
The Muses sweep the lyre.

"Still may my melting bosom cleave
To sufferings not my own;
And still the sigh responsive heave,
Where'er is heard a groan.

"So Pity shall take Virtue's part,
Her natural ally,

And fashioning my softened heart,
Prepare it for the sky."

This artless vow may Heaven receive,
And you, fond maid, approve;
So may your guiding angel give
Whate'er you wish or love.

So may the rosy-fingered hours
Lead on the various year,
And every joy, which now is yours,
Extend a larger sphere.

And suns to come, as round they wheel,
Your golden moments bless,
With all a tender heart can feel,
Or lively fancy guess.

AN ODE,

SECUNDUM ARTEM.

I.

SHALL I begin with Ah, or Oh?

Be sad? Oh! yes. Be glad? Ah! no. Light subjects suit not grave Pindaric ode, Which walks in metre down the Strophic road.

But let the sober matron wear

Her own mechanic sober air:

Ah me! ill suits, alas! the sprightly jig,
Long robes of ermine, or Sir Cloudesley's wig.
Come, placid Dulness, gently come,
And all my faculties benumb;

Let thought turn exile, while the vacant mind
To trickie words and pretty phrase confined,
Pumping for trim description's art,

To win the ear, neglects the heart.
So shall thy sister Taste's peculiar sons,
Lineal descendants from the Goths and Huns,
Struck with the true and grand sublime

Of rhythm converted into rime,

Court the quaint Muse, and con her lessons o'er,
When sleep the sluggish waves by Granta's shore:
There shall each poet share and trim,
Stretch, cramp, or lop the verse's limb,
While rebel Wit beholds them with disdain,
And Fancy flies aloft, nor heeds their servile chain.

2.

O Fancy, bright aërial maid!

Where have thy vagrant footsteps strayed? For, Ah! I miss thee 'midst thy wonted haunt, Since silent now the enthusiastic chaunt,

Which erst like frenzy rolled along,

Driven by the impetuous tide of song;
Rushing secure where native genius bore,
Not cautious coasting by the shelving shore.
Hail to the sons of modern Rime,
Mechanic dealers in sublime,

Whose lady Muse full wantonly is drest,
In light expression quaint, and tinsel vest,
Where swelling epithets are laid
(Art's ineffectual parade)

As varnish on the cheek of harlot light;
The rest, thin sown with profit or delight,
But ill compares with ancient song,
Where Genius poured its flood along;
Yet such is Art's presumptuous idle claim,
She marshals out the way to modern fame;
From Grecian fable's pompous lore
Description's studied, glittering store,

Smooth, soothing sounds, and sweet alternate rime,
Clinking, like change of bells, in tingle tangle chime.

3.

The lark shall soar in every Ode,

With flowers of light description strewed;

And sweetly, warbling Philomel, shall flow
Thy soothing sadness in mechanic woe.

Trim epithets shall spread their gloss,
While every cell's o'ergrown with moss:
Here oaks shall rise in chains of ivy bound,

There mouldering stones o'erspread the rugged ground.
Here forests brown, and azure hills,

There babbling fonts, and prattling rills;
Here some gay river floats in crispèd streams,
While the bright sun now gilds his morning beams,
Or sinking on his Thetis' breast,
Drives in description down the west.
Oh let me boast, with pride-becoming skill,
I crown the summit of Parnassus' hill:

While Taste and Genius shall dispense,
And sound shall triumph over sense;
O'er the gay mead with curious steps I'll stray;
And, like the bee, steal all the sweets away;
Extract its beauty, and its power,

From every new poetic flower,

And sweets collected may a wreath compose,

To bind the poet's brow, or please the critic's nose.

LINES WRITTEN UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF DELIRIUM.

HATRED and vengeance, --my eternal portion

Scarce can endure delay of execution,

Wait with impatient readiness to seize my

Soul in a moment.

Damned below Judas; more abhorred than he was,
Who for a few pence sold his holy Master!

Twice-betrayed Jesus me, the last delinquent,

Deems the profanest.

Man disavows, and Deity disowns me,

Hell might afford my miseries a shelter;

Therefore, Hell keeps her ever-hungry mouths all
Bolted against me.

Hard lot! encompassed with a thousand dangers ;
Weary, faint, trembling with a thousand terrors,
I'm called, if vanquished! to receive a sentence
Worse than Abiram's.

Him the vindictive rod of angry Justice
Sent quick and howling to the centre headlong ;
I, fed with judgment, in a fleshly tomb, am

Buried above ground.

OLNEY HYMNS.

I. WALKING WITH GOD.
Gen. v. 24.

OH for a closer walk with God!
A calm and heavenly frame;
A light to shine upon the road
That leads me to the Lamb!
Where is the blessedness I knew
When first I saw the Lord?
Where is the soul-refreshing view
Of Jesus and his word?
What peaceful hours I once enjoyed!
How sweet their memory still!
But they have left an aching void

The world can never fill.

Return, O holy Dove, return,

Sweet messenger of rest!

I hate the sins that made thee mourn, And drove thee from my breast.

The dearest idol I have known,

Whate'er that idol be,

Help me to tear it from thy throne,
And worship only thee.

So shall my walk be close with God,
Calm and serene my frame;
So purer light shall mark the road
That leads me to the Lamb.

II. JEHOVAH-JIREH.-THE Lord
WILL PROVIDE. Gen. xxii. 14.
THE saints should never be dismayed,
Nor sink in hopeless fear;
For when they least expect his aid,
The Saviour will appear.

This Abraham found: he raised the knife;

God saw, and said, "Forbear!
Yon ram shall yield his meaner life;
Behold the victim there."

Once David seemed Saul's certain prey;
But hark! the foe's at hand;
Saul turns his arms another way,
To save the invaded land.

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