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Poems and Plays

By William Hayley ... in Six Volumes. A New Edition
Hayley, William (1745-1820)

collapse sectionI. 
VOL. I.
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[section]
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AN ESSAY ON PAINTING:
 I. 
EPISTLE THE FIRST.
 II. 
EPISTLE THE SECOND.
  
EPISTLE TO A FRIEND,
  
ODE, INSCRIBED TO JOHN HOWARD, Esq. F.R.S.
  
ODE TO Mr. WRIGHT of DERBY.
  
ODE TO THE COUNTESS DE GENLIS.
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SONNETS, SONGS, AND OCCASIONAL VERSES.
  
SONNET TO THE EARL OF HARDWICKE
  
SONNET TO EDWARD GIBBON, Esq.
  
SONNET TO THE SAME.
  
SONNET TO EDMUND ANTROBUS, Esq.
  
SONNET TO Dr. HARINGTON
  
SONNET TO WILLIAM MELMOTH, Esq.
  
SONNET TO Mrs. HAYLEY
  
SONNET TO JOHN SARGENT, Esq.
  
SONNET ON ROMNEY's Picture of Cassandra.
  
SONNET TO Mrs. SMITH
  
SONNET TO Mr. WILLIAM LONG
  
EPITAPH ON WILLIAM BRYANT,
  
ON FRANCES KENT,
  
ON MARY HAYLEY.
  
ODE TO DEATH.
  
SONG.
  
SONG.
  
SONG.
  
SONG.
  
SONG.
  
ODE TO RICHARD VERNON SADLEIR, Esq.
  
A CARD of INVITATION TO Mr. GIBBON,
  
TO Mr. MASON,
  
IMPROMPTU TO Mr. MEYER.
  
IMPROMPTU, TO EYLES IRWIN, Esq.
  
A RECEIPT TO MAKE A TRAGEDY.
  
TO Miss SEWARD,
  
CONTENT.
 II. 
VOL. II.
 III. 
VOL. III.
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VOL. IV.
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TRANSLATIONS TAKEN FROM THE NOTES TO THE THIRD EPISTLE OF AN ESSAY ON EPIC POETRY
  
IMITATION.
  
THE INFERNO OF DANTE.
  
SONNET
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A SKETCH OF THE ARAUCANA.
 I. 
CANTO I.
 II. 
CANTO II.
 III. 
CANTO III.
 IV. 
CANTO IV.
 V. 
CANTO V.
 VI. 
CANTO VI.
 VII. 
CANTO VII.
 IX. 
CANTO IX.
 XII. 
CANTO XII.
 XIII. 
CANTO XIII.
 XIV. 
CANTO XIV.
 XX. 
CANTO XX.
 XXI. 
CANTO XXI.
 XXXIII. 
CANTO XXXIII.
  
SONNET I.
  
SONNET XIX.
  
SONNET LXXII.
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TRANSLATION'S TAKEN FROM THE NOTES TO THE FOURTH EPISTLE OF AN ESSAY ON EPIC POETRY
  
THE SONNET OF GIUSTINA TO PETRARCH.
  
THE ANSWER OF PETRARCH.
 V. 
VOL. V.

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163

SONNET TO THE SAME.

[_]

Written in Madame de Lambert's Essays on Friendship and Old Age; in the Name of the Lady who translated them.

How may I, Gibbon, to thy taste confide
This artless copy of a Gallic gem?
Wilt thou not cast th' unpolish'd work aside,
And with just scorn my failing line condemn?
No! thou wilt never, with pedantic phlegm,
Spurn the first produce of a female mind;
Young flowers! that, trembling on a tender stem,
Court thy protection from each ruder wind.
Tho' I may injure, by a coarser style,
The work that Lambert's graceful hand design'd,
I still, if favour'd by thy partial smile,
Shall boast like her of friendship's joys refin'd;
Nor fear from age her list of female woes,
If, as my years increase, thy friendship grows.
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