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The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince

Edited by R. A. Douglas Lithgow
Prince, John Critchley (1808-1866)

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[section]
collapse sectionI. 
IN TWO VOLS.—VOL. I.
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HOURS WITH THE MUSES
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POEMS PUBLISHED IN 1841.
  
THE POET'S SABBATH.
  
WHO ARE THE FREE?
  
MAY.
  
THE POET TO HIS CHILD.
  
A VISION OF THE FUTURE.
  
TO FRANCE.
  
THE MAID OF A MOUNTAIN LAND.
  
THOU ART WOOED AND WON.
  
THE CONTRAST.
  
TO POESY.
  
HOPE.
  
A FATHER'S LAMENT.
  
A CALL TO THE PEOPLE.
  
TO J. B. ROGERSON.
  
CLIFTON GROVE.
  
THE BLIND ENTHUSIAST.
  
A SUMMER'S DAY.
  
DOMESTIC MELODY.
  
LAND AND SEA.
  
EPISTLE TO A BROTHER POET.
  
A SONG OF FREEDOM.
  
SONNET,
  
LINDA.
  
TO HYPATIA.
  
TO QUINTUS HORTENSIUS.
  
A SKETCH AMONG THE MOUNTAINS.
  
THE CAPTIVE'S DREAM.
  
TO SYLVAN.
  
THE PROFLIGATE AWAKENED.
  
TO LILLA, WEEPING.
  
THERE IS BEAUTY.
  
STANZAS,
  
SPRING.
  
A FAREWELL TO POESY.
  
TO THE POLES, AFTER THEIR SUBJUGATION.
  
THE CARRIER TO HIS PONY.
  
THE OAK AND THE SAPLING.
  
WRITTEN IN AFFLICTION.
  
AN APPEAL ON BEHALF OF THE UNEDUCATED.
  
THE CHILD OF SONG.
  
TO B. S.
  
MY COUNTRY AND MY QUEEN.
  
TO JULIUS.
  
THERE'S FALSEHOOD.
  
LINES
  
THE ROSE AND THE NIGHTINGALE.
  
TEMPERANCE SONG.
  
A SICK MAN'S FANCIES.
  
TO A BROTHER POET.
  
TO THE CRICKET.
  
SONG.
  
TO MY FRIEND, JOHN DICKINSON.
  
TO G. R.
  
HYMN TO SPRING.
  
WHAT IS GLORY? WHAT IS FAME?
  
THE VOICE OF THE PRIMROSE.
  
A WINTER'S EVENING.
  
I GO FOR EVERMORE.
  
THE POOR MAN'S APPEAL.
  
TO J. P. WESTHEAD, ESQ.
  
THE SLAVE.
  
A FRAGMENT FOR THE PEOPLE.
  
THE POET AT THE GRAVE OF HIS CHILD.
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LYRICS FOR THE PEOPLE.
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POEMS PUBLISHED IN 1842.
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POEMS PUBLISHED IN 1847.
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DREAMS AND REALITIES.
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IN TWO VOLS.—VOL. II.

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45

TO J. B. ROGERSON.

Thou who hast roamed with reverie and song,
And won a wreath from Poesy divine,
I would not change thy pleasant dreams and mine,
For all the splendours that to wealth belong.
Why should we mingle with the sordid throng,
Who strive and struggle in the walks of gain,—
Who sell their souls to purchase care and pain,
And speak of knowledge with a foolish tongue?
Have we not treasures which can not be bought;—
Perception of the lovely and sublime,—
The social converse, and the soothing rhyme,—
The quiet rapture of aspiring thought?
And let us hope that we may learn to claim
Some little portion of unsullied fame.
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