University of Virginia Library

I.

[_]

Square brackets denote editorial insertions or emendations.

Volume I

Poems Descriptive of Rural Life and Scenery and other poems

SUMMER EVENING

SOMTHING NEW

[No hailing curry favouring tothers]

No hailing curry favouring tothers
Muses gins my story
Blunt—as when ones wrongd by another
I fling my case before ye
& curse the hour ye weigling Witches
Your weiglings ere got round me
& wish I had been dead ye bitches
Ere ye a Jingling found me
That evil day I came your laky
& laugh stock for a century
When vain subscriptions fussd poor Jacky
To 'pear among the gentry
When thrown aside my spade & pickers
Wi vain aspiring spirit
I left my mates wopstraws & diggers
& fancied I had merit
But yourns the fault ye blinking bitches
(The Lord a'mighty bless us)
To fancy one that dug in ditches
Might work on mount parnassus
Thus as twas you that wispering said it
& well enough you knew it
I might come in for fame & credit
If Id stick up for poet
I was contented wit while earning
A shilling mong my neighbours
Unknown to books unknown to learning
& peace then crownd my labours

ON MR --- LOCKING UP THE PUBLIC PUMP

LINES WRITTEN WHILE VIEWING SOME REMAINS OF AN HUMAN BODY IN LOLHAM LANE

LINES TO BATH

Ye waters fam'd the ills of life to heal
Know what a son does for a Father feel.
He near worn out with the rumatic pain
Oft sought relief alas but sought in vain
Is now repairing to your healing wave
In hopes that it may be the means to save.
If so as now you do that charge retain
If so as now he's safe upon thy shore
If so as now thou cannot ease his pain
Send him save back—and I desire no more.

THE FLOWER POTT

or Morrality and Reflection

FAREWELL TO A THICKETT

ROBIN AND SUKE

or The Midnight Quarrel

A Ballad

THE INVOCATION

[I dreamd & even think I see him now]

I dreamd & even think I see him now
As I sat milking our old pedy cow
Came up & made my heart jump up for fear
& rapt me oer the arm & calld me dear
My dear he said you need not be afraid

THE GIPSIES EVENING BLAZE

To me how wildly pleasing is that scene
Which does present in evenings dusky hour
A Group of Gipsies center'd on the green
In some warm nook where Boreas has no power
Where sudden starts the quivering blaze behind
Short shrubby bushes nibbl'd by the sheep
That alway on these shortsward pastures keep
Now lost now shines now bending with the wind
And now the swarthy sybil [k]neels reclin'd
With proggling stick she still renews the blaze
Forcing bright sparks to twinkle from the flaze
When this I view the all attentive mind
Will oft exclaim (so strong the scene prevades)
‘Grant me this life, thou spirit of the shades!’

EPIGRAM ON ROME

Occasioned by Reading Mr Rolts Translation of Sannazarios (Famous!) Epigram on Venice

Sannazar'o makes Neptune to exclaim
‘That men built Rome, but Gods did venice frame!’
Here he must flatter—for if thats the odds
Rome shows that men had better skill then Gods

TO MRS ANNA ADCOCK AUTHOR OF ‘COTTAGE POEMS’

SUN-RISING IN SEPTEMBER

SONG

[Since Flora disdains me—her once loving swain]

ON HOPE

A MAIDEN-HAID

A maiden head the virgins trouble
Is well compared to a bubble
On a navigable river
—Soon as touch'd 't'is gone for ever

[Hail England old England my Country & home]

WONDER!!! IF A WOMAN KEEPS A SECRET

[Behind the far woods lowly sunk was the sun]

Behind the far woods lowly sunk was the sun
Scarce a streak could be seen in the west
All the horison round was encircl'd wi' dun
And Owls ere and there with their hoopings begun
And Crows where all flocking to rest
When Ra[l]ph on the road from the fair once again
Had seven long miles for to go
And now these sad omens appeard but too plain
And this way & that way he turnd & again
He hopd that it couldnt be so

THE PISMIRE

Thou little insect infinitely small
What curious texture marks thy minute frame
How seeming large thy foresight and withall
Thy labouring tallents not unworthy fame
To raise such monstrous hills along the plain
Largher than mountains when compar'd with thee
To drag the crumb dropt by the village swain
Thrice bigger than thy self—is strange indeed to me
But that great instinct which foretells the cold
And bids 'em gard 'gainst winters wasteful power
Endues this mite with cheerfulnes to hold
Her toiling labours thro the sultry hour
So that same soothing power of Misery
Cheers the poor Pilghrim to Eternity!

SONG

[Fast by a Brook beneath a bending willow]

[Souls so distrest no comfort never knows]

Souls so distrest no comfort never knows
But hopes despairing hatches keener woes
Who now as prisoner sits prepard to flye
On each wingd groan & heavy rending sigh
Rent is the heart with dark dessending fate
Views all around it in a kindred state
Each object now seems witness—to her cost
& hints that Innocence neglect had lost
The things that once coud pleas now pleas no more
& as their im[a]ge bygone scenes explore
Memerys rank poison festers still more deep
& what was once gives fresh[er] cause to weap
Ah coud I see the Cheat I now can see
A[s] I was then the sigh I now might be
Ill fated girl—the days still come & go
But marys settld grief no Change can know
Bent on her end the fate known [best]
& night invites to sleep—but not to rest.

SONG

[‘If Kittys rosy presence now]

THE WISH

If wishes could be gaind and I might have
What ere of worldly things I lik'd to crave
Such as would free me from all labouring strife
And make me happy to the end of life,
In doing this I'de take the surest plan
To bind contentment with the future man;
And first if wishing could such pleasure give,
I'de chuse a descent house wherein to live.
The spot should be beneath a neighbouring hill
Fronting the south close to a winding rill;
As other cots the plan both wide and long
With walls made roughly durable and strong,
One outward door might all my needs suffice
Tho' in such trifles I should not be nice.
Of british oak the roofing should be made
And best of slate should be upon them lade,
I would chuse slate tho thatch is my desire
Because slate roofs will not so easy fire,
Then when the outside wall and roof where lade
Inside convenience should be nicely made,
First room for a small cellar should be found
Wholesome and cool but not made under ground;
They serve to loose the fabrics weighty load
And proves a harbour for the nuisom toad,
Therefore it should be level with the rest
Well stor'd with ale the oldest and the best
On whose good cheering strength I might depend
When making welcome with a trusty friend
For lifes a drone where friendship has not part
A utter stranger to the feeling heart.
And next a pantry suitable indeed
To store that nourishment we mostly need;
With dairy joining where the brimming pale
Demands a situation very swale,
For this a window northward should be made
With clumps of elder closley set to shade.
Methinks thus far the things are so compleat
They promise fair a comfortable seat.
A noice small parlour too I should desire
So well convinient for a winter fire
For in that season larger rooms are cold
Small ones are snuger as the less they hold,
Hung round with little pictures it should be
For these are trifles which I love to see,
Near the fireside close fitted in the wall
I'de have a nice made cubboard not too small
Each shelf in breadth so uniformly pland
That books in eightvo size or more might stand
For this one use I'd have the cubboard made
Where none but choisest authors should be laid,
Such as Dermody Scott Macniel and Burn
With rural Bloomfield Templeman and Hurn
These are the authors that can boast the power
Of giving raptures in a leisure hour,
And tho I read some of them every night
Their songs near fail of adding fresh delight.
A descent Bed too here would surley prove
A neat appendage for a winter stove
Where daily living in't would make the air
More warm and dry then emty chambers are;
Now this would be compleat—but then I doubt
A little kitchen can't be done without,
Then this I'de have with coppers neatly hung,
Likewise a oven closley arch'd and strong
With other things nescesity would plan
As shelves for dishes or a wellscour'd pan,
But these are trifles which might soon be got,
Two chambers now would just compleat my cot,
In chusing these I'de ask no more than two
They would be plenty quite and nicely do,
The one wherein thro summer I might sleep
The other should my orchards produce keep
Yet both sho[u]ld boast a bed as one might be
Useful for those that came to visit me,
Of this there should be very little shown
Tho friends and nearest kin I'd never cease to own
But as my self they both alike should fare,
And while it lasted might be welcome there.
My chamber window should oer look the east
That in delicious views my eyes might feast
There girt with crimson see the morning sun
Thro distant trees his journey just begun
Still mounting every moment stages higher
And as his height increases so the fire
At other times succeeds the vapouring mist
Hiding each object quite from east to west.
While other mornings shine with pearly dews
Then is the time to look for distant views.
The Tree the Wood the Cot and distant Spire
I would search after with a fond desire.
In this said window too I would peruse
Each sweet production of the rural muse
While sparrows from the eves in chirping throng
Should never fail to welcome with their song.
And now the house is fram'd beyond excuse
Wanting naught else but household goods for use:
They should preserve one order all along
Made roughly descent durable and strong
For like to Pomfret I could n'er endure
The needles pomp of gaudy furniture.
What I should want few words may soon explain
All that was useful nesessary plain
These and no more would bound my ample choise
And decorate my cot extreemly nice.
And now a garden pland with nicest care
Should be my next attention to prepare;
For this I'd search the soil of different grounds
Nor small nor great should mark its homley bounds:
Between these two extreems the plan should be
Compleat throughout and large enough for me;
A strong brick wall should bound the outward fence
Where by the suns allcheering influence
Walltrees should flourish in a spreading row
And Peach and Pear in ruddy lustre glow.
A five foot bed should follow from the wall
To look compleat or save the trees withall
On which small seeds for sallading I'd sow
While curl-leaf Parsley should for edges grow.
My Garden in four quarters I'd divide
To show good taste and not a gaudy pride;
In this the middle walk should be the best
Being more to sight exposed than the rest,
At whose southend a harbour should be made
So well belov'd in summer for its shade:
For this the rose would do or jessamine
With virginbower or the sweet woodbine,
Each one of these would form exactly well
A compleat harbour both for shade or smell.
Here would I sit when leisure did agree
To view the pride of summer scenery
See the productions promis'd from my spade
While blest with liberty and cooling shade.
But now a spot should be reserv'd for flowers
That would amuse me in those vacant hours
When books and study cease their charms to bring
And Fancy sits to prune her shatterd wing,
Then is the time I'd view the flowrets eye
And all loose stragglers with scotch-mattin tye;
The borders too I'd clean with nicest care
And not one smothering weed should harbour there:
In trifling thus I should such pleasure know
As nothing but such trifles could bestow.
This charming spot should boast a charming place
Southwardly plan'd my cottage front to grace.
There a nice gras plat should attract the eye
Mow'd every week more level then the dye.
Ah! think how this would decorate the scene
So fine a level and a finer green.
My borders they should lie a little flue
And rear the finest flowers that sip the dew
The roses blush the lilies vying snow
Should uniform their namles beauties show,
With fine ranuncullus and jonquil fair
That sweet perfumer of the evening air
The scabious too so jocolatley dusk
Should there be seen with tufts of smelling musk
The woodbine tree should all her sweets unfurl
Close to my door in many a wanton curl.
Aside my wall the vine should find a place
While damask roses did my window grace:
And now a walk as was the plan before
Exactly coresponding with the door
Should lead my footsteps to another bower
Whenever leisure gave the pleasent hour.
But once again the greens delightful spot
Should wear a ornament I quite forgot;
A little pond within a circle laid
It would look nice and might be useful made:
The side with freestone should be walled round
And steps the same to bevel with the ground.
There sweet Nymphea lover of the tide
Should deck my mimic pool with spangling pride.
Oft would I seek the steps in midday hour
When sol mounts high in full meredian power
To see its leaves that on the surface lie
Prove Boats of Pleasure to the dragon flye.
Ah scenes so happy void of all controul
Your seeming prospects heightens up my soul;
E'en now so bright the fairy vision flies,
I mark its flight as with possesing eyes
But thats in vain—to hope the wish was gave
It clogs the mind and binds the heart a slave.
Tis nothing but a wish one vents at will
Still vainly wishing and be wanting still
For when a wishing mind enjoys the view
He dont expect it ever will come true,
Yet when he cherishes the pleasing thought
He still keeps wishing till he wants for nought,
And so will I—My eyes shall wander oer
A Pleasent prospect, Acres just threescore,
And this the measure of my whole domains
Should be divided into woods and plains,
O'er the fair plains should roam a single cow
For not one foot should ever want the plough
This would be toiling so I'd never crave
One single thing where labour makes a slave.
Tho health from exercise is said to spring
Foolhardy toil that health will never bring.
But 'stead of health—dire ills a numerous train
Will shed their torments with afflictive pain.
Be as it will I hold in spite of strife
That health ne'er rises from a labouring life;
Therefore the busines that such labour gave
When I could do without I'd never have:
All I would do should be to view my grounds
And every morning take my daily rounds
To see that all was right and keep secure the bounds:
With trifling in the garden now and then
Which finds employment for the greatest men
Each coming day the labour should renew
And this is all the labour I would do,
The other hours I'd spend in letterd ease
To read or study just as that might please,
This is the way my plan of life should be
Unmaried Happy in Contentment free.
For he that's pester'd with a noisey wife
Can neer enjoy that quietnes of life
That does to life belong—Therefore I'd ne'er
Let Hymen's torch within my cot appear.
For all domestic needs that did require
Womans assistance—I'd a servant hire
She should be mistres of the whole conscern
And what she could'n't do she soon might learn
But this should be the character I'd seek
Well made not proud her looks entirley meek
Not fond—but witty nor unknown to books
With mind entirley modest as her looks.
That charming she that was adorn'd with these
Could never fail in quietnes to please.
And now my income which I have not made
Should touch at living desent yearly paid,
This would suffice me—for I'd never stride
O'er scenes of descency to follow pride.
A little over plus I might expend
T'relieve a Beggar or to treat a friend
For while I'd money left or bread to spare
The Beggar always should be welcome there.
Tho' this was all in wishing I would have
Posses'd of these I nothing more should crave,
Save when the worn out numbers of fourscore
Had fix'd their standard on my grey grown shore
Then one more wish should be the last I'd crave
A Painless Exit to a welcome grave.

[How welcome & sweet is springs infant dawning]

EDWARD'S GRAVE

MY LAST SHILLING

[How lovly the thorn in the newly laid hedges]

LINES ON WELLINGTON

TO THE MEMORY OF JAMES MERRISHAW A VILLAGE SCHOOLMASTER

Remem'brance paints the scene of backward days
Prompting my Mem'ry to begin the lays;
But ah! a pause—the subject makes me grieve
And sorrowing sadness bid my bosom heave.
—Methinks the Muse in angry tone replys,
‘Clown, with thyself no more apologize,
‘Go search the churchyard were thy master lies,
‘There seek the friendless grave without a stone,
‘There find his mouldering dust that lies alone
‘Near where a bending walnut fans the grave
‘With sweeping branches “idly bid to wave”
‘There press the sod and muse upon the spot
‘That once had kindred now by all forgot,
That once had learning worthy highest fame
‘Yet still liv'd friendless and to die the same
‘Think on all this—and tho more cold than clay
‘'T'will surley warm the[e] to begin the lay.’
—The Muse is right—I feel the kindling fire
Of indignation and a fond desire;
Ah! injur'd shade, this bosom felt for thee
Tho it was absent in thy misery.
I've often sought thy grave without a stone,
I've often strove to make thy memory known,
But all in vain—the spot was still unknown,
The simple lay no sooner made than flown,
My weak attempts seem'd all in vain to try;
Declining weakness—all was born to die.
But now I will attempt the promis'd lay,
And tho rough language points the vulgar way
It still shall boast this honorable part
Of having its origin from the heart.
Flattry shall never tempt my homley lays,
I neither want reward nor yet the praise,
Can only one succeed then alls repaid;
—To snatch thy memory from oblivions shade,
If in this single point my muse succeeds
‘T'will be the whole reward her labour needs.
Ah! tho thy injur'd grave's without a stone
And nothing left to make thy memory know[n]
Tho no neglecting muse to force the tear
Mourn'd one soft strain oer thy unnotic'd bier
With me thy precious worth shall never die
While life remains to aid the feeling sigh.
O! then dear shade accept this rural lay
A Pupil brings thy kindnes to repay.
Tho weak his genious which would fain attone
To make thy memory and thy virtues known,
Tho mean the lay to what thy worth requires,
‘Yet naught is vain which gratitude inspires;’
Tis she that bids my artless muse pursue
Her lowley flight and give the tribute due,
Due to thy worth thy memory and thy grave,
For thou it was dear injur'd man that gave
This little learning which I now enjoy;
A Gift so dear that nothing can destroy.
Twas thou that taught my infant years to scan
The various evils that encompas man,
Thou Also taught my eager breast to shun
Those vain pursuits where thousands are undone.
And if such choise Examples I decline,
Then shame belongs to me—the praise is thine.
All this he's done for me—then ris[e] my soul
Above the littlenes of lifes controul;
Mind not what Booklearnt men or critics say,
Thine is the debt and be it thine to pay
Then muse arise—but first repeat the tone,
‘A friendless grave that lies without a stone.’
Here sons of Learning candidates for fame
Whose Labouring toils a deathles merit claim;
Here see the wreck that poverty regards
A son of Learning yet theres no rewards.
He who pursue'd that ardorous task to rear
Young tender shoots to blossom and to bear
And in that labour did so strictly rule
As provd the man sufficient for a school
He who so skilld in arts would yield to none
And Science own'd him for her darling son
On Music's farthest shore he'd safley land
Touching her magic notes with powerful hand.
Thro Mathematics hidden depths he'd pry,
Trace all her windings with a skilful eye.
And in Geometry his searching view
Could draw a figure admirably true.
Figures or symbols either at his will
Would fetch the answer with uncommon skill.
Either to sing or plan or write or read
In each his powerful genius would succeed
Now he where all this ellegance was shown
‘Lies mouldring in the grave without a stone.’
Ah! think on this ye sons to learning dear
And on his fate bestow a single tear.
Had he been rich possesing wealthy power
Ah! then the scene as changeful as the hour
Would turn another way—the flatt'rers verse
Must sing his praises and his worth rehearse.
His death would find the elegiac reed,
And ‘Lines’ and ‘odes’ would numberles succeed.
Granduer must now their once fine man reliefe
A Herse to carry and a Coach to grieve.
Next oer his grave the marbles taught to shine
Exact in features animatley fine:
And now the polishd muse must fondly give
Her last adieu and bid his memory live.
The verse must flourish round the collumns base
Enrich'd with each good deed and namless grace,
Such as perhaps he never did possess
(For splendid basenes never fails address)
Had he been rich this surley would be shown,
But he was poor and poverty his own
Which nipt his Genius on the learned stage
And held his labours from a thankles age
‘Ah! think on this ye sons to learning dear’
‘And on his fate bestow a single tear’
When press'd with poverty you muse alone,
‘Think on the friendles Grave without a stone.’

BEAUTY

A CHARACTER

THE POWERFUL SMILE

TO HOPE

AUTUMN

[O who can paint the anguish of the heart]

O who can paint the anguish of the heart
Or who the souls Ideas can impart
At that dread moment the self murderer stands
To fall ------
In that dread moment when the frantic heart
From Life the world & all prepares to start
To somewhere still unknown without a name
Or heavens bliss or hells eternall shame
The Victims anguish here the heart conceals
& none can tell but [only] them that [feels]
When at the ponds steep verge she trembling stood
& gazd in horror on the whelming flood
That gent[l]y crimpld on its breezy wave
Soon to be ruffld with her watry grave
In musing anguish for awhile she stands
Holding her bosom with her clasping hands
Then Looks around in pains too deep to tell
& bids to all around a last farewell
& o that anguish more then death severe
That villians wrongs in dying doubly dear
In silent prayer her eyes are fixt on heaven
Her prayers are his that he may be forgiven
Herself forgot her prayers are all for him
& fear & fondness shivers every limb
Then firm resolvd to end her every woe
She takes a headlong plunge & dives below
The water splashes in convulsive sound
& foaming Eddies curdle all around
To the pond side the dashing billows gush
& starts the blackbird from the hanging bush
The wreathing chasm ebbs a weaker wave
Forever closes on her watry grave
& starting bubles in disorder rise
Where struggling fate beneath in horror dies
Then puft by breezes out then rise again
More small & small the leesening drops remain
Diminishing at last they all retire
& in a little train of froth expire
Ring within ring as faint they reach the side
Widening & weakening gradually subside
The dashing sound & Eddying wreaths are oer
& gentle calms ensue as heretofore
The breezes sweet crimps the curdling plain
The blackbird seeks her nest & sings again
The sun smiles happy on the neighbouring scene
& all seems now as tho there nought had been
The pond as usual meets each Gazers Eye
Gazers as usual peeps & hurrys bye
& as they mark the breezes curling wreath
They little think of her that lyes beneath
& little thinks as swells each harmless wave
That it is rolling over marys grave

LOVE EPISTLES BETWEEN RICHARD AND KATE

Epistle 1st from Richard

Dear kate

Since I no longer can
Go on in such a mopeing plan
I send these lines with ham and hum
To let the[e] ‘no’ I mean to cum'
Sum' time or uther you to see
W'en things ar' fitting to agree
For ever since you jog'd from here
The day to me do's seem a year
I can't endur't so 'tis no use
I love you wel' without excuse
Therefore as now I plainly show't
I only wish for you to 'now't
And w'en the let'er you do get
Let it suffice you how I fret
For e'rey night I gang to bed
Nou'ht but kit runs in my he'd
The boys they all keep clit'er clat'er
Wondering w'at can be the mat'er
W'y I look dul'.—and w'ats befel'
They on'y wish I wou'd but tel'
But I'm determind not to do't
They'l' on'y call me foolish fo' 't
Yet not as I shou'd car' for that
'T'wou'd on'y then be tit for tat
But if I bro'ght thy name I 'no'
Up 'mong such chaps as Jim and Jo
(Tho Jim if he 'ad on'y sense)
(To tel' mi'te be of conseq'ence)
For he can reed an' never spel'
(An' 'rite a let'er mons'orous wel')
Was thou to hear't as likly mi''te
'Twou'd presen'ly to'n luv' to spite
An' wou'd so much a terify'd thee
As you ne'er after cou'd abide me
This is the reeson kit (don't dou't it)
That I ne'er tel' the boys about it
For I'll sweet kit the thing is tru'
Do ony thing to pleasur' you
And w'ot you do'n't like sh'u'd be
Shal' be the last thing dun by me
For ere I 'rit this scrauling let'er
(I wish I cou'd ha' 'rit a bet'er)
Fe'ering sum peeping chaps mi''te 'no'
I 'new not 'ardly w'ere to go
Yet anx''us stil' to send you one
I at last contriv'd an' pitch'd upon
Our bushy clos' agen the link
'Twas ther' I went wi' pen an' ink
The ink I stole from Jimys box
For that he 'ardly ever lo'ks
(And if I'm 'ang'd for doing so
It wil' be you that caus'd the wo')
The paper at the shop I got
And lu'ky pitch'd upon this spot
Wher' skilarks wis'l'd oer my head
And morning shun so bri''te an' red
The du on e'rey bush did hing
An' bods of al' so'tes did so sing
That cou'd I sing like farmer's Jo'
(For shep'ads all can sing you 'no')
I'd surely sung this very morn
An' made a song in bushy laun
But thats all now't I can'ot sing
Nor 'bout this lawn nor 'bout the spring
En'uf for me cans't thou but read
This baddy stuf quite bad indeed
An' w'at made worser on't you see
Was writing on't upon my 'nee
But w'y su'h 'pologin odrotit
The stufs for you an' we'n you've got it
Excuse the whol' an' never wonder
That 'tis in all a worthles' blunder
But kitty think nor think in vain
My daily toyls my ni'tely pa'ne
O if thy ''art can tender be
'Twil' never fa'le to pity me
I must konclude ther'fore ad''u
My ''art an' so'le's for' ever tru'

Answer 1st from Kate

Richard

You sent your letter right
It came 'an' pat' on friday night
Brought by Farmers servant ‘Hobbs’
Who always does the Market jobs
As luck wou'd have it he came by
Our Lee close where the cows all lye
He soon see me tho getting late
And rode plump up before the gate
His comeing thus supprisd me quite
And set my very hair upright
I'd lik'd to faint; til he cry'd out
‘Hoi dont be frighted I'm no scout’
‘Ive summot here ya'l not refuse’
‘Fur if I'm right its gooder news’
Well more good news I says the better
Whi' that he pulled out a Letter
Is't mine ‘ah to be sur'’ he said
And whats the seal then Black or red
This I ask'd quickly, tho' unwilling
The very thoughts o' 't turn'd me chilling
For if the seal had not been red
I shou'd have thought some friend were dead
But soon the fancying terror fled
When I look'd on't and see it red
‘Hoi hoi’ Hobs says ‘Ya needn't squint’
‘Ther's nothing but good luving in't’
‘It cum's from sum' fine chap or uther’
Well never mind 'bout this or t'ot[h]er
Whats in't I says is nought to you
So I paid post and bid him go

AN ANSWER TO M. L. A.

I love thee Lucy love thee well
But love to such excess
That how I love I cannot tell
Untill I love thee less
And that I'm sure will never be
To doubts then bid adieu
On Time relye and you shall see
What Collin says is true

AN ACROUSTIC

Matchless the maid whom I so highly prize
In whom my evry hope encenter'd lies
She seems to me the fairest of the fair
She's more to me then hurds to mizards are
But O alas my love can't meet return
Eternally in secresy I burn
Taught by those friends to Silence.—Fear & shame
Secret I sigh for what I durst not name
Yet when that form appears which all excells
Nature my love by conscious blushes tells
E'en when her lovly face from sight retires
Wish after wish in fruitles hopes expires
But now I will (tho fearfull) tell my mind
O then sweet maiden tender prove & kind
Nor treat my humble suit with slight disdain
A smart most piercing to a love-sick swain
So lovly maid if you will tender prove
Hear him who fond (tho truley) tells his love
Trust swains no more who oft in outward shew
On lies depend to gain the point in view
No turn from these to him that loves thee true

SONG

[Guardian Angels O protect me]

A HUNT FOR DOBIN OR THE FORCE OF LOVE

A Tale

A Hunt for Rambling Dobin
by which we Mean to Prove
how Cupid on Rough Robin
Inflicts the Force of Love

MY MARY

SPRING (a)

Welcome gentle breathing Spring
Now the birds are heard to sing
And the budding tree is seen
Putting forth her tender green
O delightful season hail
May my footsteps never fail
When time permits to visit thee
And view thy new born scenery

SPRING (b)

Welcome gentle breathing spring
Now the birds begin to sing
Now the Swelling shade is seen
Putting forth its tender green
While the Suns extended way
Sweetly shows the lengthend day
O delightful Season hail
May my footsteps never fail
When I've time to trample where
All thy beauties reappear

ON A LOVER OF BOOKS

When a Book Phil. can borrow he'll sure enough do't
And love it most dear never doubt him
But when without buying he cannot come to't
Why then—Phil. he cares nought about 'em

THE DEATH OF DOBBIN

Old Dobbin dead I sing a mournful theme
The noted horse of many a former team
Who in the Glory of his youthfull days
Near fail'd to reap his drivers daily praise
Who too the hero of each story prov'd
Of weights he carried & of loads he mov'd
But ah the praises of the world abide
Long as a buble on a floating tide
Poor worn-out Dobbin good as he had provd
In spite of all the loads he bore & mov'd
And spite of all his worthy labours past
Fell like the rest a cumber ground at last
Ah poor old injur'd Dobbin well might we
Be warn'd to know the worlds deciet from thee
Thou an Example both to horse & man
Shows how we're serv'd when we've done all we can
But tho thy lot old Dobbin-boy was hard
For such real merit to meet such reward
Tho by thy master used so unkind
The rural Muse is glad at heart to find
'Mong thy old friends thy memory still survive
Where worthy deeds are sure to keep alive
Those old companions of thy former time
That knew thee well & knew thee in thy prime
When thou outmatch'd by none to none would yield
That often geard thee in their team to field
Those old Companions of thy former prime
That yok'd thee out to field full many a time
And many a day and many a weary morn
That have with thee the lengthning furrow drawn
And through each timley season as they roll'd
The summers heat & winters cutting cold
Have stood with the[e]; with the[e] as partners shar'd
The toiling slaves to those that better far'd
These where thy friends & these thy friends well knew
A horses worth that might be trusted too
And this they every day could prove & see
The value dobbin of a horse like thee
They by expirience taught knew how to prize
That worth which unexpirienc'd fools despise
And treat thy Memory with that due respect
Which thy self loving master does neglect
Never through him by hardy work's attain'd
And lasts no longer then his ends are gain'd
Sway'd by self interest—when thy best was o'er
As he could profit by thy strength no more
When courage left thee & old age came on
And all the hopes of an amendment gone
When willing still weak efforts provd too true
That thou hadst done the utmost thou cou'dst do
Then merits past and praises all adieu
His profits vanishd and his praises too
On merits past he could'n't tent to call
Nor spare a praise where merits past was all
But turnd the[e] out in yon bare grounds to feed
To pine or die as future fate decreed
And happy future fate did so ordain
To see thy sufferance and to ease thy pain
The Death of Dobbin rural Muse rehearse
Recount his Merits in thy lowly verse
Low as it is if thou thy Verse denies
Poor dobbins merit with his carcass dies
Poets would near (but shame to hint their aid
In things so mean and where no gains are staid)
For well well we now what dobbins left behind
Will neer tempt fulsome flattery to be kind
The task is thine for theres no gains in view
So tune thy reed & Dobbins song pursue
Where grass at stand still all the year is found
Winter & summer scarce above the ground
Where Rushes (usless in most places seen)
Are all devoured (hungers bites so keen)
Where spite of all the spears their leaves contain
Sharp prickly thistles strive to rise in vain
There with a motley drove of sheep & cows
(That on the green all summer daily brouze)
His latter days poor dobbin ended there
When helpless age requird the tenderest care
There painful wanderd up & down the plain
And sought unceasing for a bite in vain
Tho sheep & cows & other horses too
Whent all the day as dobbin usd to do
Tho they expeirencd ere the day was gone
The painful pangs of hunger coming on
Yet doubly blest & happily they fard
When this their lot to Dobbins was compard
Tho daily pind the punishment was small
All day they hungerd & the day was all
When twelve long hours or seeming long was past
The welcome evening brought their wisht repast
Joyful they saw the swains & Maidens come
And heard the signal to prepare for home
There to regale oer upheapd cribs of hay
Their sorrows closing with the closing day
But Dobbin luckless horse of Misery
No hopes had he of upheapd cribs to see
Usless to him approachd each close of day
There he was turn'd & there he was to stay
No pleasure he from closing day could find
But the sad pleasure of being left behind
To him alike the morn & evening came
Each found him pind & left him still the same
There left alone he pind the night away
And blest had he been left alone by day
For had these pilferers on his wretched fare
Ceas'd their intruding daily visits there
He might have joy'd to see the grass encrease
And passd away his latter days in peace
But luck like this for dobbin wor'n't reservd
Twas his misfortune to be pind & starvd
There to remain & patiently to bear
His days & nights in restless hunger there
To search unceasing all in vain for food
And dye by Inches till he died for good
And doubly blest that hour & doubly dear
That showd poor dobin that his end was near.
No happier moment in his life e'er past
Then that sweet moment when he breathd his last
No dearer night since he first drew his breath
Then that dear night which clos'd his eyes in death
Joys was the pains to those he felt before
Pains (happy prospect) he would feel no more
His pains & hunger all for ever flew
When the last groan bid weary life adieu.
Ah poor old dobin badly was't thou serv'd
To what thy merits & thy worth deserv'd
And could thy fellow kind have sence to see
Well might they prove the worlds deciet from thee
From thy Example plainly might be guest
How they'll be thought of when they've done their best
For still theres many a Dobbin left b[e]hind
That to their sorrow will thy treatment find
That spite of all their worthy merits past
Will fall like thee meer Cumber ground's at last.
No merits nothing—or in Lifes decline
This usage dobbin would have neer been thine
For better horse could not be harnesd out
Then Dobbin was when he was young & stout
For well we know and ploughmen all agree
That none for working could be match with thee
For well twas known by ploughman in his prime
Who to their joy hath provd it many a time
When he was young by nature formed stout
A Better horse could not be harnesd out
His heart was willing & too good to yield
Alike the same at home or in the field
True to his trust (a faithful servant provd)
If aught set fast could possible be movd
If down a craggy road or mirey fore
A load had helted f[e]lley deep or more
(For Drivers all for Dobbins help applied)
In courage noble and as nobly tried
No sooner yokd and the fond drivers pride
Had clapt his praises on the heroes side
Then he with all his might his strength decreed
Fell too as willing as he went to feed
Pull after pull he'd take without a word
Wind & repeat it of his own accord
Repeated trials urg'd in vain to flinch
What ere he gaind he never lost an inch
And soon (if equal to his strength it provd)
The joyful driver saw his doubts removd
(Ah! then old Dobin well might be envy raise
Your fellow horses to deserve the praise
Which the pleas'd rustic in his raptures paid
For thy past efforts so deserving made)
And if repeated pulls did plainly prove
The deep sunk load beyond his power to move
Tho worn fatigued his heart undaunted still
Always obedient to his drivers will
And if still left beyond his power to try
Upon his knees the worthy beast would lye
And there his fruitles efforts still mentain
There lye & pull & rise & fall again
And had his drivers faild to interfere
And let him still keep pulling as he were
So true the courage he so often showd
He'd broke his heart & fell beneath his load.
Nor was his worth alone confined here
In drawing well or heavy Lifts to clear
At other labour he was still the same
The best in being & the first in fame
At lighter jobs that gentler ways require
He still performd them to his guides desire
For tho so turbulent when strength's requird
A gentler creature could not be desird
Mild as a lamb a very child might guide
And walk undanger'd by his gentle side
E'en from each Maiden Dob did praise recieve
That to his Masters yearly came to live
Could they (a favour from rough will or john)
But once get Dobbin to ride Market on
His fames foundation then was surely laid
To be aughmented all the time they staid
For tho he was (as carters mostly prove)
But slow of foot (tho never hard to move)
Tho he requird of time a greater share
And on his journey neer had much to spare
His worth & safety did his fame secure
His ways all gentle & his slowness sure
—At Ploughing too he still reservd his fame
His willing heart & Courage still the same
He'd draw a furrow straight without a bend
Clear out the plough & turn it round the end
Without a Leader & without a guide
Ploughmen in Dob with Leader was suplied
Use made him perfect & his heart was good
He took all gamly be what jobs they wou'd
Threatnings were useles either fresh or tir'd
Good words where all the notice he requir'd
No wipcord lashes never markd a Limb
Whipcord & whips were usless all to him
In short (his worth being well & often provd)
At every job his prescence was belovd
The ploughmans only wish & only pride
Was but to be with Dobbins aid supplyd
To have him in their team—for well they knew
That Dobbins merits could be trusted too
But ah resemblance of a flattering Dream
What Boots it Dobbin to have your esteem
—Vain world we know thee—well thy ways can tell
Worth may gain praise when intrest bears the bell
But when thats gone then praises all adieu
Our worth is vanishd & our praises too
The Cobweb praises of the world abide
Long as a Bubble on a floating tide
Poor worn-out Dobbin good as thou had provd
In spite of all the Loads thou bore & movd
In spite of all thy worthy Labours past
To fall (sad fate) a Cumber ground at last
A poor old injurd Dobbin well might we
Be warnd to shun the worlds deciet from thee
Thou an example both to horse & man
Shows how we're servd when weve done all we can

THE WOUNDED SOLDIER

IMPROMTU SUGGESTED WHILE VIEWING AN INFANT GRAVE

THE SNOWDROP

ON A WITHER'D CROWFLOWER

A REPLY TO THE ENQUIREY ‘WHAT AILS YOU?’

Was I to tell you what I ail within
About the wounds you would'n't care a pin
Sooner I fear you would be adding new
By telling me ‘I need not think of you!’

SONG

[The Harebell decks the woods in blue]

SONG

[When lingering suns in sumer sets]

SONG

[Sad was the day when my willie did leave me]

ADRESS TO A LARK SINGING IN WINTER

TO THE WELLAND

LINES TO CHLOE

TO MR J. TURNILL

T[urni]ll (lov'd name) a clown would fainley send
To thee some token that thou mightest know
How he esteems thee as a real friend
For favours past which he must ever owe
Yet anxious far as lies within his power
To make acknowledgement for all thy pains
Thou took to learn him every leisure hour
He humbly greets thee with these simple strains
Simple indeed!—yet simple as they are
O best and dearest friend could they but show
That this warm praise is utter'd from the heart
That without flattery friendship makes me glow
O could they but to thee these truths impart
Ah then my hopes are Crown'd beyond compare

THE DISSAPOINTED MILKMAID

Along the road as goes the tale
A Cuntrey girl with milking pale
Thus profits from her ware to sell
E're she got there began to tell
‘This milk will bring me at a Clash
‘Tenpence or more in ready cash
‘And then that tenpence will effegs
‘Buy me at least a dozen eggs
‘Then from them eggs—lets see—if set
‘Beneath a hen—why—I shall get
‘We'll say ten chickens—them when grown
‘Will clear a pig to be my own
‘That pretty pig when fat I vow
‘Will make me Mistriss of a Cow!
‘Then from the dairey in a souse
‘I get enough to buy a house—
‘Theres for y' then—(with land to plough!)
‘What I'm come to by saving now!
‘Well now I've naught to do but hurd
‘And then a sweetheart!’—at that word
She jump'd for joy—but thought no more
Of what she'd on her head before
Till down it squashd upon the ground
And laid the dusty road around
So there whent milk—and thats not all
For in that sad dissasterous fall
Her Eggs, her poultrey, piggs, and Cow,
With dairy, House, and land to plough—
But O of accidents the worst
Misfortune urghing to be curst
That sweetheart worse than all desir'd
In this too shocking fall expir'd!
Then let us take warning that we may'n't be catch'd
But keep the old proverb in view
‘Not to crack of our chickings before they are hatch'd’
As ‘Golden dreams seldom come true’

MY ROVER

A MOMENTS RAPTURE WHILE BEARING THE LOVLEY WEIGHT OF A. S---R---S

Unequal'd raptures happiest happiness
For sure no raptures can compare with thee
Now lovley Anna in her sunday dress
In softest pressure sits upon my knee.—
For O to see the snowey bosom heave
And feel those robes to me so softley cleave
Robes which half show what modesty consceals
While round her slender wa[i]ste I fling my arms
And while her eye what's wanting yet reveals
To me apears such (more than heavenly) charms
That might I wish—and could I be so blest
To have it granted—O I'd wish to be
For ever of this matchles maid posses'd
To bear her weight through all Eternity

CHUBS REPLY

Nature unequal modelizes all
Some she makes great and others mighty small
Of this last fairey sort tho jiant proud
One market day amid the gaping crowd
A three foot nothing did a horse bestride
'Pareing as well as when on bullocks hide
A shouting jackdaws seen to sit alone
Just so this monster on the saddle shone
And as for pride no jiant no goliah
Could of his mighty person think no higher
For all who look'd (and many was affraid)
Nay if a stranger stopping only made
A wrinkled brow as ready for a stare
He in a passion would begin to swear.
—But spite of this young chub in close review
Just like a pointer fairley stard him thro'
For having often heard the story told
About tom thumkin and his acts so bold
He really took this mighty man to be
Tom Thumkins person in reallity
So on he stard with all the eyes he had
Till his suppos'd tom thumb grown wond'rous mad
In thundering vengance made this question known
Demanding answer in magestic tone
‘Thou sensles dog, why thus my views impede?
‘Thou two leg'd bastard of the swinish breed
‘What makes you stare so mungrel of a whore?
‘Did you ne'er see base dog—a man before?
Chub vex'd at such foul names soon turnd awry
His mouth in posture ready to reply
‘Why theres no doubt of that—(then fleer'd and gave
His beaver a cock up)—‘but what I have
‘But I should be d---nd cunning could I see
‘E'en the worst sort in such Tom-thumbs as thee!’
‘Thumb’ struck with this he little thought to hear
From such a fool as chubby did appear
Sneak'd off asham'd and still as ere he could
For fear the crowd that gaping round 'em stood
Should catch the sharp reply and run him down
By joining chorus with the gauling clown
Warn'd by this caution for the time to come
To keep his questions and affront at home
For Madam Wit no chuser of her place
Is often cloath'd in rags as well as lace

FRIEND LUBIN

A BEGGING ORPHANS ADDRESS TO A LADY

THE COUNTRY GIRL

A REPLY TO --- OF --- ON STYLEING HIS HUMBLE SERVNT A FOOL

SONG

[Since Edward departed and lef me behind]

IMPROMTU

Ah woodbine shade the very sight of thee
Has spoilt my silence and tranquility
When just before I had thy wild shade caught
I wander'd happy blest without a thought
But now alas thy image does restore
False chloes woodbine round her cottage door
That door which now to me access denies
Yet still my heart its wishing fondness sighs
‘Did chloe know where collin is this hour
‘How he thinks of her by the woodbine flower’
—O! cease fond heart and let me call thee mine
Leave that false bosom which will neer be thine
How canst thou fancy without gains or aught
False love will flatter for a simple thought?

ELEGY Humbly attempted (from the overflowing effusions of a feeling heart) to pay a small tribute of esteem and gratitude to the memory of my dear friend companion and schoolfellow R[ichard] T[urnill] who was suddenly cut off in his youthful days by the fatal depredations of the Tipus Fever

SONG

[When Chloe's gone then fancy lays]

COLLIN'S COMPLAINT

THE ROBIN

Now the snow hides the ground little birds leave the wood
And flie to the cottage to beg for their food
While the domestic robin more tame then the rest
(With its wings drooping down and rough feathers undrest)
Comes close to our windows as much as to say
‘I would venture in if I could find a way
‘I'm starv'd and I want to get out of the cold
‘O! make me a passage and think me not bold‘
Ah poor little creature thy visits reveal
Compla[i]nts such as these to the heart that can feel
Nor shall such complainings be urged in vain
I'll make thee a hole if I take out a pane
Come in and a welcome reception thou'lt find
I keep no grimalkins to murder inclin'd
—But O! little robin be careful to shun
That house where the peasant makes use of a gun
For if thou but taste of the seed he has strew'd
Thy life as a ransom must pay for thy food
His aim is unerring his heart is as hard
And thy race tho so harmles he'll never regard
Distinction with him boy is nothing at all
Both the wren and the robin with sparrows must fall
For his soul (tho he outwardly looks like a man)
Is in nature like wolves of the appenine clan
Like them his whole study is bent on his prey
Like them he devours what e'er comes in his way
Then be careful and shun what is meant to betray
And flie from these men-masked wolves far away
Come come to my cottage and thou shalt be free
To perch on my finger or sit on my knee
Thou shalt eat of the crumbles of bread to thy fill
And have leisure to clean both thy feathers and bill
Then come little robin and never believe
Such warm Invitations are meant to decieve
In duty I'm bound to show mercy on thee
While God dont deny it to sinners like me!

THE DISABLED SOLDIER

or British Loyalty

THE DEATH OF MYRTILLA

or The latter catch of a pathetic Tale In Imitation of H---B---

WRITTEN IN WESLEYS PHILOSOPHY

Bacon unveil'd philosophy
And fancied that enough
Till Wesley daring genius came
And stript her into Buff.

THE ROSE

Or a Wish for Transformation To E. N.

A WINTER WISH

THE EAGLE AND THE CROW

A Fable

TO AN APRIL DAISY

LOBIN CLOUTS SATIRICAL SOLLILOUQUY ON THE TIMES

A Lab'rour journeying to his work betimes
Thus reak'd his vengance on the awkard times
‘O cou'd I think as I wos doom'd to see
Sich shoking times as these ar' got to be
Poor men hod now be batter nokt o' t'head
Thon ha' to wok fo' nothin' else but bred
Ney ar' old ma'stur nosty fleerin' to'k
Say's I've no time for 'atins wen I wok
D---n his old c---r---s (g---d forgive my s---l)
How I shud like a bruzzer at his joul
But tak' my wod he wil be f[i]tted fo't
When wonce the d---v---l hes his carcos got
No all his fleerin's oer all wul be dun
When he hes got his w---d---n j---k---t on
When swarms of m---g---ts at his h---m---r s---k
And turn thot p---dg---y s---ll---ng t---b to muk
Then whon he sees th'place he must be in
He'll wont to pray fur all his wiked sin
But he'all wont whot never must be had
His crimes will be so meny an' so bad
An' then he'll cos I wonty fo't the day
He ever chet poor labourers o' their pay
Ah he'all wish he'd pey'd um fo' their wok
An' never plag'd um wi' sich fleering tauk
So I mun wait an' I shal' see him sarv'd
Just os I wish'd an' just os he d[e]sarv'd
But his mak gamlely touk meks me so mad
And if I leave him uthers ar' os bad
Aye Aye they'r all a like poor-pekt-up hogs
They treat the poor os if they wo' but dogs
An' if ther' is sum better on's fo' sooth
That wou'd hear reason when we spok' th'truth
Sich d---m---d deep r---g---s os ar old be---g---r is
Soon smells it out on tutors em a mis
For like a scab'd a—sd—ship on rogue's enouf
To foul a very nation throf an' throf
Then if are goes to then an wines about
(Tho they'd be sorry ot their hart no doubt)
Yet 'fear o'fruntin' th'd---m---d r---g---sh set
They'll em anaye an that is all yah'll get
Be os it will they'r sure to mek excuse
So beggin' prayin' nothink's a' no use

UPON THE PLAIN

A Ballad

Upon the plain there livd a swain
A Flock his whole employ
Unknown loves cares & all its snares
To damp his humble joy
Industry toils whil Fortune smiles
To bles him with increase
Contentment made his humble trade
A Scene of Health & Peace
But Cupid sly whose jealous eye
Envied his happines
With pointed darts & subtle arts
Resolvd on his distress
Tho first in vain he Workd his brain
But practisd in deceit
Fresh schemes & plans where nigh at hand
& some was sure to hit
In fatal hour he provd his power
A Shepherds form he tain
With hook & song he hums along
& thus acosts the swain
Go friend he cried to yonder side
The hedge that bounds the plain
For there a lamb has lost his dam
& calls for help in vain
He instant starts his tender heart
Oerlooks the subtle snare
The swains beguild pleasd Cupid smild
Fair florimel was there
The Rosys red her cheeks bespred
Her bosom lily white
To view her charms each bosom warms
Enrapturd at the sight
Her heaving breast her slender waist
Her shape genteel & tall
Her charms divine Unrivald shine
Alike confest by all
Beneath the shade the lovly maid
Was shelterd from the sun
O luckles swain go fly the plain
Or stay & be undone
For ah twas provd by them that lovd
She had a scornful eye
Her pride was vain no way to gain
He[r] pity but to dye
—Stretchd on the Green—her beauty seen
To all advantage there
To meet the breeze that fand the trees
Her snowy breast was bare
She meets his view Sweet Peace adieu
And Pleasures kno[w]n before
He sighs—Approves—Admires & loves
—His heart's his own no more

[O Charming bird thy melody so sweet]

O Charming bird thy melody so sweet
Makes even hodge that vulgar foe to song
In wistful tone to imitate repeat
Thy ‘Sweet Jug’ Music as he plods along

ON LABOUR

That nessesary tool of Wealth & pride
—The humble ploughman in his daily rounds
Where natures beauties lavishly abounds
Will feel delighted when he turns his eye
To witness prospects of the earth or sky
& oft will make a pause & stand to see
The passing clouds the cottage brook or tree
—The king cup courts his eye with gayest p[r]ide
& modest cowslaps tremble by his side
& type of Innoscence without disguise
The Vilet creeps to meet his vulgar eyes
While on the sunny bank the daisys seem
With smiling charms to court the clowns esteem
Nor do they spread their smiling charms in vain
His bosom warms enrapturd at the sight
With secret pleasure & unknown delight
His swelling soul to memorys treasure flies
& strives to speak—but Ignorance denies

[So gay in summer as thy boughs where drest]

So gay in summer as thy boughs where drest
So soft so cool as then thy leaves did wave
I knew thee well & knowing am distrest
& like as friendship leaning oer the grave
Loving ye all ye trees & bushes dear
I wander where ye stood & drop my bosom tear

A FAMILLIAR EPISTLE TO A FRIEND

TO JANE --- OF --- IN THE MANNER O' BURNS

THE SETTING SUN

This scene how beautious to the musing mind
That now swift slides from my enchanted view
The sun sweet setting yon far hills behind
In other worlds his visits to renew
What spangling glories all around him shine
What nameless colours cloudless & serene
Rich heavenly colours brightest in decline
Atend his exit from this lovley scene
So sets the Christians sun in glories clear
So shines his soul at his departure here
No clouding doubts nor misty fears arise
To dim hopes golden rays of being forgiven
His sun sweet setting in the clearest skies
In safe assurance wings the soul to heaven

THE DISSAPOINTMENT

[A Uglier mortal ne'er has been]

[Friend take my advise would you do yourself good]

Friend take my advise would you do yourself good
& get your house Custom & peace
Take down from that door post the billet of Wood
& hang up your Wife in its place

A SIMILE

A Mushroom its Goodness but Shortly Endures
Decaying as soon as its Peeping
—Woman much like them—for'ts known very Well
That they Seldom Get better by Keeping

HELPSTONE

THE QUACK & THE COBLER

THE ‘RUINS OF DESPAIR’

Yon mouldering wall compos'd of nought but mud
(Which has for ages in that manner stood)
Is rightly stil'd the ‘Ruins of Despair’
For nought but wretchedness assembles there
All son[s] of grief and daughters of despair
Within that hut;—but how can life live there?
Thats strange indeed,—while these old walls of mud
(‘Which has for ages in that manner stood’)
Keeps daily mouldering in a lost decay
Leaning on props that want themselves a stay!
Well may those wrankling nettles thrive and grow
So duley water'd with the tears of woe
—Lo on the floor with gulling holes oerspread
Their wretched feet betray a shooles tread:—
The ‘Ruins’ covering nought but loose-laid straw
Which winds blow off and leave a frequent flaw
There snows drive in upon the wretches head
There hasty rains a threatn'd deluge shed
Thrice wretched wretched ‘Ruins of despair’
What griefs are thine.—O ‘how can life live there?’
—A rag-stuft hole,—where bits of Lead remain
Proof of what was,—but now without a pane
A roof unceal'd displays the rafters bare
Here dangling straws and cobwebs dropping there
No white-wash'd walls to pictur'd taste incline
Instead of pictures threatn'd carvings shine
The dismal harth is nothing but a hole
To wood a stranger and the same to coal
Light straw and rubbish make their sorry fires
Kindl'd no quicker than the flame expires
Instead of chairs great stones bedeck the ground
(Rough seats indeed!)—and closley raing'd around
On these the wretched tribe spend half their days
Dythering and weeping oer the dying blaze
A blaze that does more paint than heat supply
Tingeing their faces with a smoaky dye.—
No shelves no Cubboards no convieneience there
'T'was plan'd in grief and finish'd with despair
They make their shelves and cubboards on the floor
In a dark hole behind the broken door
There an old pitcher broke beyond excuse
(For wants consceald by them is little use)
Stands with the filthy shadow of a pan
Filthy and nausious,—O!—what being—can
Endure!—Grief searching muse give oer
On such a dismal scene essay no more
Stay thy too curious search,—forbear,—forbear,
No more describe the ‘Ruins of Despair!’

DOBSON AND JUDIE

or The Cottage

SONG

[Young Jemmy the pride of the Hamlett and mill]

THE PRIMROSE

Welcome pale primrose starting up between
Dead matted leaves of ash and oak that strew
The every lawn the wood and spinney through
Mid creeping moss and Ivys darker green
How much thy presence beautifies the ground
How bright thy modest unaffected pride
Glows on the sunny bank and woodland side
And where thy fairy flowers in groups are found
The school-boy roams enchantedly along
Plucking the fairest with a rude delight
And the meek shepherd stops his simple song
To gaze a moment on the pleasing sight
Oerjoy'd to see the flowers that truley bring
The welcome News of soft returning spring

SONG

[When mountain billows roar amain]

CRAZY JANE

A Fragment

TO THE WINDS

Hail gentle winds I love your murmuring sounds
The willows charm me wavering too & fro
& oft I stretch me on the dasied ground
To see you crimp the wrinkling flood below
Delighted more as brisker gusts succeed
& give the landscape around a sweeter grace
Sweeping in shaded waves the rip'ning mead
Puffing their rifl'd fragrance in my face
Pictures of nature ye are doubly dear
Her children dearly love your wispering charms
Ah ye have murmurd sweet to many an ear
That now lies dormant in deaths Icy arms
& at this moment many a weed ye wave
That hide[s] the bard in his forgotten Grave

THE WELCOME STRANGER

EPITAPH ON A WOU'D-HAVE-BEEN-CHARITABLE-MAN

But For Certain Reasons Which He So Wisley Explain'd

THE CRAFTY MAID

JOHN BUMKINS LUCY

LINES ON THE DEATH OF MRS BULLIMORE

EVENING

Now glareing daylight's usher'd to a Close
And nursing eve her soothing care renews
To welcome weary Labour to repose
And cherish nature with reviveing dews
Hail cooling sweets that breathe so sweetly here
Hail lovly eve who's hours so lovly prove
Thy silent calm to solitude so dear
And O this darkness dearer still to love
Now the fond lover seeks thy silent plains
And with his charmer in fond dalliance strays
Vowing his love & telling jealous pains
Which fearful fancy in their abscence raise
Ah tho such pleasures center not in me
I love to wander & converse with thee

THE WOOD NIMPH'S PETITION

ON SEEING A LOST GREYHOUND IN WINTER LYING UPON THE SNOW IN THE FIELDS

WILLIAM AND SALLEY

A Tale

SONG

[Ere Meggy left hur mam an' dad]

WATERLOO

A PLOUGHMANS SKILL AT CLASSIFICATION AFTER THE LINEIAN ARRANGEMENT

‘Go wipe your shoes’ says mistress shrew
To Hodge who up for's dinner drew
‘'Tis'n't fitting that such hogs as you
‘Shou'd come into a house’
‘Why not’ says hodge—‘if thats the case
‘I cant come in a better place
‘For surely there is no disgrace
For hogs to herd wi' Sows

TO THE WINDS

Ye hollow Winds that thro the Woodlands Rave
Pleasd do I view you Wreath their leafy Grains
& Roll in Waves the Grassy Bented Plains
& Verge the Silver Pool in Cooling Waves
Pierst as I am with never ceasing pains
Vext as I am with hopes decietful strains

A SCHOOL BOYS WIT

Go Silly Brains the Master said
To one who'd misd a Letter
A Dunces Cap shall fit your head
If you dont do no better
‘Boy instant upward cast his eye
On's masters nodle winking
The Master ask'd the Reason why
Why sir says he Im thinking
As yours & my head seem o' kin
To save ye farther trouble
It would when once your hand is in
Be best to make a couple

[For her my youth in fruitles hopes decay]

For her my youth in fruitles hopes decay
For her black sadnes turns the day to night
Awd by her frown my chill soul shrank away
& life it self grows hateful to my sight

[O worst of anguish in that aching heart]

O worst of anguish in that aching heart
When fate not choise ordains true love to part
While truest love with strongest ties does bind
With natures choice & coresponding mind

THE NOSEGAY

Sweet Philis as fair as the hedge Rosey seems
& while the maids Envy the charms she displays
The swains to gain favour are planning their schemes
& daily to please her try all winning ways
Their nosegays all charm her—I knew what she lovd
T'other day I took courage to try for the Maid
I hopd—& I sought for the flowers she approvd
& presented the gift as she sat in the shade
O the magic of Beauty—the power of her eyes
How I trembld approaching her near
She turnd a look to'ard me of carles suprise
O my heart how it flutterd for fear
As soon as she saw me she rose from her seat
I approochd her—stood silent—Made a bow & admir'd
& the Nosegay I gatherd—laid it down at her feet
She than[k]d me & pickd out the best & Retird
But shepherd take courage when on[c]e you begin
Let trifles neer daunt—nor by fears be subdud
Fair maids are too fickle for faint hearts to win
I still trusted hope—dispeld fears—& pursud
She fled but her swiftnes neer seemd like retreat
Oft turning behind her the meaning I gesst
She waited to hear me I was not to seek
While I begd that a kis for my pains mite be spard
She smild her consent—wipt the curls from her cheek
& the sweets of those Roseys provd double reward

[Thrice welcome to thy slumbering peace o Grave]

Thrice welcome to thy slumbering peace o Grave
Tho when as yet thou art I know it not
Thee I address as death the stroke had gave
& laid me happy in thy silent spot
O could I lay me down with thee in peace
Would Death but be my friend I should be blest
With thee the wicked from their troubling cease
With thee the weary lie & are at rest

[O should these humble artles strains]

ADDRESS TO AN INSIGNIFICANT FLOWER OBSCURELY BLOOMING IN A LONELY WILD

THE LUCKLESS JOURNEY

[By lonesom Woods & Unfrequented Streams]

THE VILLAGE FUNERAL

THE LAMENTATIONS OF ROUND-OAK WATERS

ON DR TWOPENNY

Twopenny Wittle his nature is & Twopenny his name is
His task is not wort[h] Twopence & twopenny his fame is
Two pennys but a trifle one well may do wi out 'em
& as hes but a twopenny I dont care twopence about him

[Towpenny his wisdom is & towpenny his fame is]

Towpenny his wisdom is & towpenny his fame is
Towpenny his merit is & towpenny his name is
& as twopence is a trifle I well may do without him
Ill sing in spite of twopenny & not care towpence about him

ALPINS HARP NEW STRUNG

from A Piece of ‘Ancient’ Scottish ‘Poetry’

TO A FAVOURITE TREE

Old favourite tree art thou too fled the scene
Could not the ax thy clining age delay
& let thee stretch thy shadows oer the green
& let thee dye in picturesque decay
What hadst thou done to meet a tyrants frown
Be dragd a captive from thy native wood
What was the cause the raige that hewd thee down
Small value was the ground on which thou stood
So sweet in summer as thy branches spread
In such gay cloathing as thy boughs where drest
Where many a shepherd swain has laid his head
& on thy cooling fragrance sunk to rest
Adieu old friends ye trees & bushes dear
The flower refreshd by Morning dews
Hopeful blooms in asure skies
Anon the Noontide heat ensues
It hoples Withers droops & dies
O Cruel change of Love like mine
To bid me hope one only day
& ere that worst of days declind
To snatch that only hope away

[The humble flowers that buds upon the plain]

[To meet the Breeze that fand the trees her snowy breast was bear]

To meet the Breeze that fand the trees her snowy breast was bear
Sheethd on the Green he[r] Beauty seen to all advantage there
She meets his view sweet peace adieu & pleasures known before
He sighs—approves admires—& love[s] his hearts his own no more.

[Young Damon long lovd charming Bess of the vale]

Young Damon long lovd charming Bess of the vale
Sweet Blooming & fair shes the maid to his mind
Still the shepherd was backward in telling his tale
Still doubting & fearing the maid to be kind
Little Birds in their courtship among the green trees
When they armor[ou]sly fix on a maid to their mind
They Reveal it in Fear & approach by degrees
Till some happy omen turns out to be kind
At length ventures [he] with low bended knee
And hopful addresses the maid to his mind
& just as he wishd so he found her to be
Politely good naturd condecending & kind

DISSAPOINTMENT

[The crowing coks the morns for told]

[My Native Village Native Fields]

My Native Village Native Fields
Places by me so highly priz'd
That not one spot such pleasure yields
No not in all the World besides
And this my cottage O so dear
This place of my Nativity
Where I was ‘bred and born’ and where
I still have livd from Infancy

ON THE DEATH OF A SCOLD

A scolding woman's worse then hell
Her tongue can never cease
She loves in quarrels to oppose
& hates the thoughts of peace
So hags delight to see the storm
Deform the smiling skye
& joys to hear the thunder roll
& see the light'ning flie
They know their tools is ready then
To prosper every spell
Which the black arts of malice plans
In journey work for hell
But that which seems as choise in those
Which bear the hellish mark
May be the effect of fear & dread
Hells mysterys are dark
Tis said their bodys when spells fail
Is like their souls condemn'd
& when they fail of Nickeys prey
He foxlike seizes them
So of old scolding nelly trix
The same thing may be said
Who after marrying husbands six
& scolding all to dead
She looking out for further work
A seventh still desir'd
But as Experience makes fools wise
Her customers grew tir'd
So when her tongue could find no more
To load with its abuse
It silencd not from being old
But only want of use
So Nicky seeing trade had faild
& no one car'd to come
He thought it time to shut up shop
& Instant took her home

AN IMITATION OF BURNS

[How oft (with hat pulld oer my eyes]

DEATH OF THE BRAVE

A Song

THE TRAVELLERS

A Parody

[O riches from thy cruel scorning]

O riches from thy cruel scorning
What divided hearts endure
Is worth enrichd by your adorning
Is worth the worse for being poor
Thou shade of merit los of thee
Is cause of all my pain
Fair Emas kind—but friends can see
No Worth were you disdain
Thus sighd poor Edwin—Hopes long vanishd
All alone to sorow left
His love discoverd he was banishd
Of Ema & his love bereft
Once lovly angel he resumd
Her smiles my hopes did warm
Then I had friends but now I'm doomd
To seek em in the storm
O was that tender Angel near me
My sorrows could but Ema see
Her heart O if her heart could hear me
If still unchang'd would pity me
Thus hoples Edwin sighd his pains
But short was his despair
For heaven that hears when worth complains
Directs his Ema there
Concious of his pains & grieving
Pearly tears bedewd her charms
& concious woes her bosom heaving
Sighd & sunk into his arms
O heaven Enrapturd Edwin c[r]ied
My angel keep from [h]arm
Love friends & all—My foes denyd
I've found eme in the storm

ON THE DEATH OF A BEAUTIFUL YOUNG LADY

A Fragment

JEANNETTE

[When from this vain World my spiri[t] is Reli[e]ved]

When from this vain World my spiri[t] is Reli[e]ved
& Chilling in my breast lifes ebbing tide
As like a Gest with da[i]ntes satisfi[e]d
Ill thank the fates for what I have recievd
& humbly wait what still they may provide

THE ROBBINS

[Now spring returns with all her wonted charms]

[The dareing Bird that hardly shuns]

[The beauties of Myra in it[s] lustre now dawning]

THE FATE OF AMY

A Tale

HAUNTED POND

[I wish that I was but a gay blushing rose]

[Young Nanceys William for a Sailor press'd]

[Young Damon for Delia Sighd]

ELEGY TO PITY

[‘O Death were is thy victory! O grave were is thy sting’]

‘O Death were is thy victory! O grave were is thy sting’
The inspird Bard & holy prophet sung
His hands exulting swept the trembling string
And all around with heavenly Music rung
More loud & louder thrills the trembling chords
His hands more Faster moves along the lyre
The Bards strong faith triumphant joy affords
And all his soul's enrapt in heavenly Fire
The sounds vibrating still the Notes prolong
And listning Seraphs throng the Bard around
On Wings of Easter flocks to hear the song
And smile in concert to the pleasing sound
—'T'was thou O Jesus! Saviour of the World
'T'was thou that filld the Bards prophetic eye
He saw thy flag of ‘Peace on Earth’ unfurl'd
And heard ‘Glad tidings’ Melt along the Skye
But O! a Tear!—the Magic Scenes ensue
The Saviour dies—that sinners might be blest
—Dies!—Death & Hell's grim terrors to subdue
And make the grave a-wish'd-for-place of rest

SUPPOSD TO BE UTTERD BY WERTER AT THE CONCLUSION OF HIS LAST INTERVIEW WITH CHARLOTTE

O wretched Man—Now hopes are fled & past
Not one Word more—one look—& that the last?
O Charlotte Charlotte stay my Angel stay
Do hear the last your Werter begs to say
The last forever—Dying—I implore
One Word—and then—I'm gone to come no more
Then o for once anticipate the friend
Look back and pity if you cant commend
Bid one Adieu—& instant I'll depart
Your Werter craves it with a broken heart
O prayers intreaties—all are spent in vain
She hears me not or hears me in disdain
'Tis done—'tis Death—I go—my fates decreed
Sure now she hears—my inmost souls reveald
Yes Angel Yes Your Werters Vows are true
What Silent still? she Answers not—Adieu!

NIGHT

THE MILLERS DAUGHTER

[The Rose & lilly blooms again]

NATIVE SCENES

O native scenes for ever ever dear
So blest so happy where I long have been
So charmd with nature in each varied scene
To leave ye all is cutting & severe
Ye hanging bushes that from winds woud screen
Where oft Ive shelterd from an aprils shower
In youths past bliss in Childhoods happy hour
Ye Woods Ive wanderd searching out the nest
Ye Meadows gay that reard me many a flower
Culling my cow slips Ive been doubly blest
Huming gay fancies As I bound the prize
O Fate unkind beloved scenes adieu
Your vanishd pleasures crowd my swimming eyes
& makes this wounded heart to bleed anew

DEATH OR VICTORY

Battle now is drawing near
Foes in sight of foes appear
Now the Heroes courage warms
Now the Cowards fears alarms
Heroes hottest fight defies
Cowards shrinking falls or flies
Frenchman Gallias Sons may fear
British Blood advancing near
But darken day & blush bright Sun
Shouldst thou see a briton run
Foes to flie or fight to shun
Till the battle's oer & won
In Glory! Glory! Glory!
For Britons still must Britons be
Away to Death or Victory!
Yes! Yes! proud Victory smileing cries
As oer the advancing troops she flies
‘Be dark that day & blush that sun
‘That ever sees a briton run’
But while Brittanias isle remains
To boast one Briton on her plains
Ye foes dispair that day to see
Which never was and neer shall be
A true bred Briton never flies
His very nature flight denies
His courage every fear defies
He either wins the day or dies
In glory! glory! glory!
For Britons still will Britons be
So on to Death or Victory

[Ye spirits of the earth and air]

Ye spirits of the earth and air
Ye Naids of the Liquid plains
O will ye to my plaint repair
& allev[i]ate my restles pains
Ye Cherub Cupids of the skye
And all ye airy tribes unseen
Can ye with my request comply
To thaw the heart of Bonny Jean

[Ive long been urgd friend for to write ye a Letter]

[No Chilling fears nor trembling alarms]

No Chilling fears nor trembling alarms
Are never witnes'd in no hackney'd charms
The throbbing bliss that heav'd her snowy breast
Full truly told what treasures I possest
And now uninterupted or reprovd
Love reghnd triumphant & her fears removd
In all the Charms endearing hopes could frame
Or heart desire or fondest wishes name
I freely revelld—freely then posses'd
And O such charms as not to be exprest
Such charms such softness O to feel & prove
My very soul was melted into love
Here rest fond Muse—they all thy powers excell
And if they did not—thou must cease to tell
Nor try nor venture secrets to reveal
Which she—sweet girl could wish thee to conseal
Near raise a Blush nor give that heart a pain
Which has been kind & will be kind again
To leave such charms as if not let alone
Would only make thy imperfections shown

EPIGRAM

[For fools that would wish to seem learned & wise]

For fools that would wish to seem learned & wise
This Receipt a wise man did bequeath
‘Let 'em have the free use of their ears & their Eyes
‘But their Tongue’—says he ‘Tye to their teeth’

STANZAS ADDRESS'D TO M.C.M.

MYRA

O if the sorrows which true love inspires
In heavens eye could ere compasion find
O give ye gods my hearts supreme desire
& teach my angel myra to be kind
The lovly charmer she is all to me
My utmo[s]t hopes—the all my heart desires
& O beneath her scorn my pleasure flees
& all my wishes & my hopes expires
For her my Youth & vigour pines away
For her black sadnes turns my day to night
And by her Frown my chill soul shrinks away
And life itself grows hateful to my sight
Adieu the pleasures which I once posest
Those tastles charms that gave deligt & ease
The charms of her suplanted all the rest
& those posesd by her alone can please
In vain all pleasures art & nature yeilds
My sickning soul their sweetest pastimes shun
& like the blighted blossom of the fields
Sickens & dies beneath the brightest sun
Possesd of her the remedy is sure
All heaven is present when the charmers there
Denyd of her theres nought admits a cure
Absence is hell—I perish in despair

HER I LOVE

—A SONG

[How blest is he—the happiest mortal known]

How blest is he—the happiest mortal known
With independant fortune of his own
With just as much as makes each wish compleat
& just as much as makes both ends to meet
& keeps that keen wolf hunger from the door
Tis quite enough contentment wants no more

[Reader if undisguisd thou ownst a heart]

Reader if undisguisd thou ownst a heart
That for thy countrys good woud act a part
& when her sorrows meets thy saddend eye
Sincerly heaves (the whole it durst) a sigh
Yet ready waits (if some woud bravly dare)
To save thy country or its fate to share
To join true Britons rous'd by Freedoms call
With them to triumph or with them to fall
Then oer this sacred spot impassiond bend
& mourn a heros Brother & a friend
But if self interest binding tyrants laws
Bribes the[e] a Villian to support their cause
O if thy heart an undermining foe
Dissembling plans thy countries over throw
O sham of Britain (Land of Liberty)
That brought to light thy villanies & thee
Go hence away thou poison & disgrace
Nor turn a look toward the sacred place

ADDRESS TO PLENTY IN WINTER

A Parody

THE RESIGNATION

(Supposed to be Written by the Unfortunate Chatterton Just Before he Took the Deadly Draught that Put a Period to his Existance)

[Now spring returns with all the pleasing charms]

[O welcome to thy cheering light]

O welcome to thy cheering light
That smooths the raven down of night
Fair moon I court thy peacful reign
(Recourse to sleep with me is vain
She seeks the Beds of healt[h] & ease
But shuns the wretch devoid of these)
Thy silence & thy peace I love
The dim seen plain & darker grove
& (balm for woe) an hours Reprieve
I watch the sober close of eve
To seek for the[e] & for the fair
The maid of thy peculiar care
That shuns the noisy & the rude
& thou art nurse of Solitude
When thou art present she is near
& thou & thine art ever dear
The gloomy haunt her taste approves
My coresponding genius love[s]
I always love & take delight
Be thine or not to rule the night
When suns set red & darknes lowers
Above my head in threatend showers
& when night spreads her sable shroud
Beneath one undivided cloud
—But more delighted love to seek
When thy light paints the maidens cheek
& softer shades the darksom folds
Which nights gloom in her mantle rolls
O then how sweet with her & you
& handmaid contemplation too
& sister silence lonly led
The solem scenes of night to tred
The pasture & the green to rove
Pacing neath the willow grove
Or oer brown fallows wher the sheep
For us a batterd pathway keep
Where strong voicd labours noises oer
Hollows at the plough no more
Ceasing to urge labour on
From the scene Industrys gone
Leaving her to breath awile
Strength Recruiting—farther toil
—Short the sweets which I pursue
'Morrows dawn the toils renew
Dull the scenes I now survey
Blyth & jolly all the day
Kate has ceasd with idle bawl
Her Roving lowing cows to call
'Neath the awthorn by the spring
Collin ceases now to sing
& the ploughman as before
Rants his vulgar lays no more
All is still & desolate
Plains abandond to their fate
Save the lark that sweetly sleeps
Were the grasy bunches peeps
'Bove the clod that shields its nest
Moon sweet gilds its ruset breast

ON THE DEATH OF A QUACK

Here lyes Lifes Cobler who untimly fell
By name of Doctor Drug'em known to all
His frequent visits mad[e] him known full well
For where he'd business he ne'er faild to call
Fools praisd his power as great in saving Life
& for that purpose many a Journey made
To Village Lout & Tradesmans Wimsy Wife
But some there must be to incourage trade
For want of them full many a trade wou'd stop
& what wou'd docters do if't wa'n't for fools?
They then might keep at home & shut up shop
Their pills & mixtures would be usless tools
—The Doctors Drugs one certain Virtue claims
Which in his Wondorous Bills he never puts
E'faith why don't they?—'t'wou'd increase their fame
To empty Pockets well as scour the Guts
At this our Drug'em was Expert enough
The Art he practis'd knew it wondorous well
While money lasted he ne'er faild of Stuff
& Fools would buy 'em—he knew how to sell
& faith of Custom from his noted skill
He never faild—his fame the Village spred
Tho ignorant of the cause—too strong a Pill
Has workd a Paietent—now & then to dead
Yet still his fame & customers increas'd
Who he by Practise prov'd not over nice
& playd as good a part wi' them at least
For as they E'k'd his fame—he Ek'd his Price
His Drugs went off—(& Doctors will be paid)
So money tumbld in most wondorous free
But Fortunes Sun shine often finds a shade
The happiest crosses meet—& so did he
Death—who'd ta'en many a Patient off his hands
& wether want of Work—Or wether whim
What caus'd his coming—no one understands
But he was hunting & he hunted him
No Lingering-Illnes'd-Journy man—he sent
Himself at once—nor made one doubtful stop
Spite of his being a Doctor—Boldly went
& Seiz'd him in his Garrison—his Shop
Where all his Weapons dreadfully displayd
Bid bold Defiance on each hand Bill Read
& Pills & Powders desperate sallies made
Pelting like hail Round the Besiegers head
But Death feard nought—yet when the Phisic flew
The stink so nausious—made him turn about
& forcd him to Retreat awhile to spew
—But frequent Sallies wore the Doctor out
A Time to prove his Art was fairly bid
Patients Expected—(Fools have little wit)
That he would play his part—well so he did
But then it faild & then the fools were bit
They provd too well his Art of Getting Pelf
But tother Art was either Lost or past
If he sav'd them he cou'd not save him self
So here Poor Drug'em lies a Quack at Last?

[O thrice lucky town (the more lucky poor creatu'rs)]

A FEW HINTS TO A MAIDEN

After Hearing Her Laughing & Diverting Herself & Company With Railing at Anothers Misfortune

[Now the Summers in its prime]

Now the Summers in its prime
All in Youth & Beauty blest
Myra mark the precious time
Snatch the pleasure while posest

[Shakspear the Glory of the English stage]

FALLING LEAVES

[Summer now its lustre shining]

[Yes Ra[l]ph Natures made you both clumbsy & stout]

EPITAPH ON MR C---LE WHO AFTER EXPERIENCING MISFORTUNES URG'D AT LAST BY DESPAIR PUT A PERIOD TO HIS EXISTENCE—

When honest worth born down beneath the weight
Of sad misfortunes yieldeth to his fate
Pity low bending where the sufferer sleeps
Recalls the past & reccolection weeps
—Beneath this humble stone (all fate would give
To better luck may every reader live)
Misfortune hides—& sorrow finds repose
The last resource adversity bestows
And while oblivion draws the vail between
& hides the present with the future scene
Let not ill judging jealousy distrust
Nor seek the fault forgotten in the dust
—But hold—ye hasty fears—ye jealous thoughts
The man's the man in spite of all the faults
The clouds of fate that blacken & oer cast
But vainly shade the present with the past
The former lustre merits sun displayd
Disperses clouds & lightens up the shade
—His deeds he own'd em—wheres the man with none?
& those where his no man like him could shun
His dealings just his principals was good
He always strove (as far as ere he cou'd)
To keep an even ballance man with man
& tho he failed in this golden plan
Still slander may reproach—but cannot blame
(Here black designing malice lost her aim)
His puntual payments far as he was worth
Secur'd his honest fame while here on Earth
& the undoubted character he bore
Endears the memory now the mans no more
Such libral actions mark'd his honourd name
In life beloved & in death the same
Ye who succeed him do but act as well
Ye then may flourish where another fell
How vain the wreck to strive against the stream
Expierience prov'd it just the same with him
The more involv'd & vain the more he try'd
—Urg'd by despair—he prov'd it so—& dy'd
& contradict it malice if you can
Whats rarely found—he dy'd an honest man!

CHUSING A FRIEND

As the old Proverb always prove true in the end
‘All will cheat alike as cheat can’
Therefore let your judgment in chusing a friend
Be your self—as the properest man

EXPIRIENCE

Tho Expirienc's pupils pay dear to be wise
It's no Use a talking 'bout this that & to'ther
For we're all blind alike 'till she opens our eyes
And 'till then cant be made to be learnt by no other

MODERN LOVE

Occasioned by an Unequal Marriage

DICKS OPINION

A Simille after the Manner of Peter Pindar

THE CONTRAST

Beauty & Virtue

THE FOUNTAIN

[So Christianitys enlivening light]

So Christianitys enlivening light
Dispersd the mistery with smiling ray
Of Ignorance & superstitions night
That gastly veild religions early day
Such light in Jesu's passion we [OMITTED]
He died & sufferd that we might be blest
& death & hells grim terrors he subdues
He made the grave a wishd for place of rest

[One monday morning sour & loath]

One monday morning sour & loath
To labour like a turk
A tween the hour o' five & six
I took my corpse to work
Deuce take a labourers life thought I
They talk o slaves els where
I sees much choice in foreighn parts
As I do in Slavery here

[[The maid who] roams upon the plain]

[The maid who] roams upon the plain
Will no more trust your Songs
For pride disguisd & love despisd
Are bought with killing wrongs
The swain that late beheld [his Love]
While wandering by his side
His [maiden] pain but told in vain
Till life despaird & dyd

[O beneath such raptures in my forgetfull heart]

O beneath such raptures in my forgetfull heart
That at that moment neath a oaks mossd bough
From all the world debard world forgot
I sat as happy at that time as if
Id just recievd existence & as if
The world[s] sad troubles & the world[s] rude spite
Had never never been

EXPECTATION

When expectation in the bosom heaves
What longing anxious views disturb the mind
What fears what hopes distrust & then believes
That somthing which the heart expects to find
How the poor prisner ere hes doomd to die
Within his gloomy cell of dreary woe
How does he watch with expectations eye
The lingering long suspence of fate to know
Alas poor soul & so do I repine
The Walls his prison is the world is mine
So do I turn my weary eyes above
So do I look & sigh for peace to come
So do I long the graves dark end to prove
& anxious wait my long long journey home

[Crafty cats that were constantly fixt on the watch]

Crafty cats that were constantly fixt on the watch
As chances fell out they employd
& timley retreating as [he] lifted the latch
Unmolested their thieving enjoyd
Quite heedless to every domestic concerns
She hung her self over the fire

[Watching [in that chill spot] that wakend the gale]

Watching [in that chill spot] that wakend the gale
[Such fits] to illness [speak] plainly
The welcome voice of health & plenty
Sweetly Reflected in toils ruddy cheek
That health attends the labourers early hour

[Just as mornings rosy lass]

Just as mornings rosy lass
Unbeds from sleep & gins to dress
Just as draws her curtains bye
How sweet to watch her opening eye
As her cheek is glowing warm
& her finely turned arm
First unfolding on the stretch
Her [mantles] crystal sheets to reach
Sweet is then the graceful folds
As round her lovly limbs it rolls
Half revealing to the sight
That seat of rapture & delight
In beautys melting mingling hue
Skin so white & veins so blue
H[e]aveing on the ravishd eye
Warming charms of extasy
Till it fades in witching pale
Neath a seeming swelling vale
Of morning while it 'lopes away
Mid the modest blush of day
Then the sun with gentle creeps
Oer heavens surface softly peeps
To his toils again repairs
To [k]not in gold her spangld hairs
& as waiting in the skies
Till morn takes her exercise
High & brighter when shes drest
Hangs a locket at her breast
& to suit her softy tread
The sun this way to earth is led
& as proofs of gold esteem
Spreads around her [OMITTED] gleam
When at first the while to wait
Like a watch man at the gate
Verdant on the morning sceen
Oer the carpets spreading green
Hies & summons every flower
To open at an early hour
Sweetly soon each flower unfurls
Capt within a crown of pearls
& each notty point of grass
[OMITTED]
Or the brook [OMITTED] as I pass
Witnessing [OMITTED]
To the wild wood shielded sweet
Where the branches branches meet
Where the [OMITTED]
& the morning songs are heard
& the holly branches spread
Spreads an arbour oer my head
As the woodland paths divide
Sweet to put the boughs aside

PS: CL

Let churchs & chappels shrill your a[n]themns crye
Places ordaind for a sacred [him]
Praise praise the Lord ye cherubs of the sky

JEAN BELL

A Ballad

[Others in mixt alteration doubly blest]

Others in mixt alteration doubly blest
My woes unheeded leaves my heart at rest

[This hill on which I rest me now]

This hill on which I rest me now
Shaded by summers blooming bough
Where free the cowslips left to bow
& where the wild thymes printed now
Waves from the zephers sigh
Upon this bare existing spot
As some day tho I heed it not
Might stand but castle hall or what
& when & how—why thats forgot
Or wether it was so or not
—The Times gone bye
Where Sleep has dropt my weary head
To take its peace the weary bed
& closing sorrows nigh gone fled
Ive often thought & often said
As slumbering here I lye
Mynstrel of earliest aged days awake
Of thy wild Ignrance fain would I partake
Thy rusted wires thy old uncoothly make
& quaint expressions pleaseth much mine eye
As wandering aimlessly the wires among
Wild on the heaths on which thy harp has rung
Where druid mynstrel sung
In days gone by

[Spirit of the woods awake]

[I saw the girl just to my mind]

[Hobbling to labour by some pasture side]

Hobbling to labour by some pasture side
While often stopping scenes to trace
The wonderous beauties in a flowers face
& often [OMITTED] yet [OMITTED]
Tho be his sweet [OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
Captures the while his inward powers
& [OMITTED] delight him which he [OMITTED]
Brings picture pleasing scenes to mind
For which his language can allegiance find
& other pleasures they portray
Till in each others love they now are gay

TO AN OAKEN STEM

THE ADIEU

[Gee is thy name thou prating plodding creature]

Gee is thy name thou prating plodding creature
& at thy plough tail gee thy horses still
Twas all intented by thy mother nature
Tho [framd] it seems to thought of better skill

[O freedom freedom sacred name]

O freedom freedom sacred name
Thy lands a land of slaves
Tho many a town thy right proclames
But trust me they are knaves
Theres many a slave shows in his notes
In freedoms intrest bawling
Woud sell his consciense for a groat
O freedom thou art fallen

PATTY

[O endless bright in life & light]

O endless bright in life & light
Thou mercys depths thou comforts height
Triumphing faith acclaim
Encouragd by his blest command
As firm as lasting shall you stand
Your heaven endures the same

[The ]

The [OMITTED] has [OMITTED]
He stopd [OMITTED] loud
Then kept his beaver up & bye & bye
[OMITTED] silly wench
Ah hark [OMITTED]
To urge [OMITTED]
Galls up her starved [OMITTED]
A poor loose good for nothing he was found
So even had I heard his hogs noise round
[OMITTED] sure enough it was to guess as how
That honest work kept not the racket life
But veigling as he did twould be his delight
To wench & drink & swear from morn to night
& he was fane lie housed where one would
Hed one was sure to seem boasting about

A SEAT AT NOON

THE PAUSE BEFORE THE BATTLE

The[n] from the mist top of the far watched hill
The breath of the night came as softly & still
As it did any night in the working mans head
As quietly [he] slept on his flock pillow bed
Tho nothing seemd more than at other times past
Yet soldiers were thitherward marching em fast
The spot it was doubtfull where foe might meet foe
The fight it was certain that it would be so
Their horse on the pasture was freed from the plow
& wandering as usual where bullock & cow
To be sure there was noises the Watching dogs growls
The neighing of horses & whooping of owls
& gossips & nurses might quake in their beds
As the shriek of the owl was omen of dread
& the sheep they did bleat & the asses did roar
But the sheep & the asses did so before
Still the camps they was forming upon the wild Heath
& the bayonet waited for blood shed & death
The horses hoofs patter & waggons did jar
Just as the thunder clap mutters afar
& louder & louder it fell on the ear
As times counted moments advancd em near
& long the lines stretchd on the [moon glazed] heath
& silent the pause as one stopping his breath
Each soldier had fears but he mentiond them not
& each had a thought that to die was his lot

[The daises silver white]

[& ]

& [OMITTED] winding [ways] break
[OMITTED] to sight
But I may never see their strange mountains
The shining blade of grass
& some have moister growing on [OMITTED] [grain] where they was
& what my life leard may [OMITTED] [again]

[Thou moon crazd man]

[Sweet sleep & peace good night]

Sweet sleep & peace good night
Ive oft had cause to bless thy soothing reign
& if Im blessd to live till Mornings light
& welcome thee again
Ill well know how to value thee
& prove the sweets of pleasure after rain
Freed from the dread of war be thou my country
Blanketed in sleep from the Earths cold damp
Dreaming of her I love—Alas its vain
I fear my last repose is with the slain
Sweet sleep & peace good night

SONG

[Canst thou [buy] my love so lightly]

Canst thou [buy] my love so lightly
That I love thee to decieve
Prize my love ah not so slightly
As not a single sigh believe
Hark the[e] maid Ill leave thee never
Hark thee if thee love Ive given
When done loving here for ever
Thee Ill ever love in Heaven

THE AUTUMNAL MORNING

O much I love thee autumn sere
When fragrant in the mellow year
While dropping leaves & blossoms dead
Makes pillows for thy sunny bed
While faint short wirlwinds puffing bye
Breaths thy latest symphony
& much I love thy checkerd gloom
& dear I love thy waning moon
Or breaths the blue mist & the [OMITTED]
Or [OMITTED]
Or [OMITTED]
Or [OMITTED] thy wintry bed
With hurkling stride & watchful tread
Let my [OMITTED] be watching found
Let me as wont begin my wait
Inofensive keeping state
Where halfway bowd & neath the ground
Like a buble bright & round
The sun streams up till bove the wood
It meets the blue sky red as blood
& by degrees increasing high
It sticks a Gold stud in the sky
& view thy ripness growing up
Just as the acron leaves its cup
Just as the nut bunch ripnd brown
Leaves its shell & tumbles down
& the leams on every squall
Leaves the tree in softnd fall
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED] blow
Nor doubts its dead nor wish to sigh
But as the autumn droops to dye
Now the Village calm & still
Droves its tenants up the hill
Gently lifts as tho it where
[OMITTED] shed proaching near
Tho far different be the cause
That the hinds attention draws
While oer wheat fields turning brown
Laughing flings its [OMITTED] down
Emigrating swallows now
Sweep no more the green hills brow
Nor in circuits round the spring
Skim & dip their sutty wing
& no more their chimny nigh
Twitter round to catch their flye
But with more majestic rise
Practising their exercise
& their young brood to pursue
Autums weary journy through
Meditating travels long
Wher the freshing year is young
Leaving us our cold sojourn
'Turning more till springs return
Wild woods ring in echos round
Wi many a lusty rural sound
Thro the day the wooping call
Of ramping nutters ceasless brawl
Weaving branches tearing down
Plucking nuts now ripe & brown
Boys as soon as loosd from school
Run to get their pockets full
& many a village clown [in extacys]
Rustling mong the faded trees
That bend beside her path is seen
Like the woodlands rural queen
Snatching hastes handfuls while she hies
To milking where her red cow lies
Venturing oer the woodland stile
Shepherds leave their sheep awhile
Dreading squalls & turning back
They snached a nut or 2 to crack
While the pindard quirking out
As the lawyer squints about
Siezes on the chances found
& drives the straying sheep to pound
The Hedger who wi many a tap
Drives the stake down in the gap
Leaves his gaps & leaves his toil
& claims a share of autumns spoil
In short as full as it can snive
The hamlets dead & woods alive
The once so still & silent shade
Is now a scene of uproar made
& from her bowers of ash & oak
Where scarce a song besides crows have spoke
Till now the rolling seasons through
Scard Solitude now bids adieu
& from the thicket dark & deep
The fluttering pheasant scared from sleep
While nearly trampld on her lair
Bobbing jerks the startld hare
& the squirrels agilty
Sputters up the timber tree
There in safty on the grain
Wipes his face & peeps again
& the rabbits viving fears
Listning perks his taper ears
Bobbing round wi tail so white
He hurries from the gazers sight
& all the peacful things that flye
From meddling mans Accusing eye

[When gentle even oer the wild scene creeping]

[& if friendship [OMITTED] you would win it]

[OMITTED] & if friendship [OMITTED] you would win it
& should black guard fate leave us with [OMITTED]
I am yours to [OMITTED] in it

SPORTS OF THE FIELD

THE BIRTH OF CHARITY

THE BIRTH OF EVE

How oft Ive noticed when the west sky blazed
At the sweet opening of the evenings birth
& often thought they gamb[o]ld as they glazed
The dying sunbeam on the cotters hearth
Red coal like clouds about the suns bed lying
First brightning up in many a burning track
[The] [OMITTED] & then like [OMITTED] loosing cloud

O CRUEL WAR

OLD JOHNNY & DOROTHY CANNING

OPENING OF THE MORNING

A Sketch

JENNY BELL

THE MOON

TO OBSCURITY

Written in a Fit of Despondency

Hail dreaded fate of dark obscurity
Which lingering hopes so long delay'd to find
Now dissapointment reads my destiny
—Ah since Encouragement her aid declin'd
To thee for shelter from the world he flies
& oh that horrid blotch (fond Memory weeps)
Beneath whose buried shade of deep disguise
The sons of Merit unrewarded sleeps—
While Learning mourns & Ign'rance delights
To see worth perish in Eternal night
Thou last, last hope of Genius distrest
Redress the Wrongs which Envy joys to see
O bid my weak aspiring spirit rest
& bury all its hopes & pains in thee

CHRISTIAN FAITH

EVENING

WHAT IS LIFE? (a)

LIFE'S LIKENESSES (b)

(Written in imitation of the Poetry of the 17th Century.)

A REFLECTION IN AUTUMN

THE SUPRISE

TO DAY THE FOX MUST DYE

A Hunting Song

ELEGY HASTILY COMPOSED & WRITTEN WITH A PENCIL ON THE SPOT IN THE RUINS OF PICKWORTH RUTLAND

NOON

All how silent and how still
Nothing heard but yonder mill
While the dazzel'd eye surveys
All around a liquid blaze
And amid the scorching gleams
If we earnest look it seems
As if crooked bits of glass
Seem'd repeatedley to pass
O! for a puffing breeze to blow
But breezes all are strangers now
Not a twig is seen to shake
Nor the smalest bent to quake
From the rivers muddy side
Not a curve is seen to glide
And no longer on the stream
Watching lies the silver bream
Forcing from repeated springs
‘Verges in succesive rings’
Bees are faint and cease to hum
Birds are overpower'd and dumb
And no more loves oaten strains
Sweetley thro the air complains
Vocal voices all are mute
Tuneles[s] lies the pipe and flute
Shepherds with their panting sheep
In the swailiest corner creep
And from the tormenting heat
All are wishing to retreat
Huddel'd up in grass and flowers
Mowers wait for cooler hours
And the Cow-boy seeks the sedge
Ramping in the woodland hedge
While his cattle oer the vales
Scamper with uplifted tails
Others not so wild and mad
That can better bear the gad
Underneath the hedgerow lunge
Or if nigh in waters plunge
—O to see how flowers are took
How It grieves me when I look
Ragged robins once so pink
Now are turnd as black a[s] ink
And the leaves being scorch'd so much
Even crumble at the touch
Drowking lies the Meadow sweet
Flopping down beneath ones feet
While to all the flowers that blow
If in open air they grow
The injurious deed alike is done
By the hot relentless sun
E'en the dew is parched up
From the teazle's jointed cup
O poor birds where must ye flye
Now your water pots are dry
If ye stay upon the heath
Ye'll be choak'd & clam'd to death
Therefore leave the shadeles goss
Seek the spring head lin'd with moss
There your little feet may stand
Safely on the printing sand
While in full poss[ess]ion where
Purling eddies ripple clear
You with ease and plenty blest
Sip the coolest and the best
Then away and wet your throats
Cheer me with your warbling notes
'T'will hot noon the more revive
While I wander to contrive
For my self a place as good
In the middle of a wood
There aside some mossy bank
Where the grass in bunshes rank
Lifts its Down on spindles high
Shall be where I'll chuse to lye
Fearless of the things that creep
There I'll think and there I'll sleep
Careing not to stir at all
Till the dew begins to fall

‘YOU'LL NEVER CATCH ME THERE’

A Ballad

EARLY RISING

TO A ROSE BUD IN HUMBLE LIFE

A SCENE

The landscapes stretching view that opens wide
With dribbling brooks & rivers wider floods
& hills & vales & darksome lowering woods
With grains of varied hues & grasses pied
The low brown cottage in the shelter'd nook
The steeple peeping just above the trees
Whose dangling leaves keep rustling in the breeze
—& thoughtful shepherd bending oer his hook
& maidens stript haymaking too apear
& hodge a wistling at his fallow plough
& herdsman hallooing to intruding cow
All these with hundreds more far off & near
Approach my sight—& please to such excess
That Language fails the pleasure to express

TO THE GLOW-WORM

Tastefull Illuminations of the night
Bright scatter'd twinkling stars o' spangl'd earth
Hail to the nameless colour'd dark-&-light
The watching nurse o' thy illumin'd birth
In thy still hour how dearly I delight
To rest my weary bones—from labour free
In lone spots out o' hearing & o' sight
To sigh days smother'd pains & pause on thee
Bedecking dangling brier & ivied tree
Or diamonds tipping on the grassy spear
Thy pale fac'd glimmering light I love to see
Gilding & glistering i' the dew drop near—
O still hours mate—my easing heart sobs free
While tiny bents low bend wi' many a added tear

TO INNOSCENCE

SONG

[The beauties o' youth lovley Emma adorning]

The beauties o' youth lovley Emma adorning
As the spring is first seen to disclose
When the dew dropping silver o' mays infant morning
Unfolds the sweet blush o' the rose
While her charms—O as varied as summers profusion
& ripe as the autumn for love
In her blue eyes sweet beaming the thrilling confusion
Near failing each bosom to move
While the snows o' the winter improvd on her bosom
No need o' a rival be told
—& O my sad pains—when I 'gan to disclose em
I found it as killing & cold

TO HOPE

Ah smiling cherub cheating hope adieu
No more I'll listen to your pleasing themes
No more your flattering scenes with joy review
For ah I've found em all delusive dreams
Yes mere delusions all—therefore adieu
No more shall you this aching heart beguile
No more your fleeting joys will I pursue
That mock'd my sorrows when they seem'd to smile
And flatterd tales that never would be true
Tales only told to aggravate distress
& make me at my fate the more repine
By wispering joys I never can posess
& painting scenes that never must be mine

TO A WINTER SCENE

Hail scenes of Desolation & despair
Keen Winters over bearing sport & scorn
Torn by his Rage in ruins as you are
To me more pleasing then a summers morn
Your shatter'd scenes appear—despoild & bare
Stript of your clothing naked & forlorn
—Yes Winters havoc wretched as you shine
Dismal to others as your fate may seem
Your fate is pleasing to this heart of mine
Your wildest horrors I the most esteem.—
The ice-bound floods that still with rigour freeze
The snow clothd valley & the naked tree
These sympathising scenes my heart can please
Distress is theirs—& they resemble me

THE UNIVERSAL EPITAPH

No flattering praises daub my stone
My Frailties & my faults to hide
My faults & failings all are known
—I livd in sin—in sin I dy'd
& O condemn me not I pray
All who my sad confession see—
But ask your soul if it can say
That your a Better man then me

THE LOVERS MEETING

An Imitation of the Fifth Elegy of the First Book of Ovid

THE AUTHORS ADDRESS TO HIS BOOK

HOME

THE HARVEST MORNING

IMPROMTU ON WINTER

O Winter what a deadly foe
Art thou unto the mean & low
What thousands now half-pind & bare
Are forcd to stand thy piercing air
All day neer numb'd to death wi' cold
Some petty Gentry to uphold
Paltry proudlings hard as thee
Dead to all humanity—
O the weathers cold & snow
Cutting winds that round me blow
But much more the killing scorn
—O the day that I was born
Friendless,—poor as I can be
Struck wi' death o' poverty
But why need I the winter blame
To me all seasons come the same
Now winter bares each field & tree
She finds that trouble sav'd in me
Stript already—pennyless!
Nothing boasting but distress
& when spring chill'd nature cheers
Still my old complaint she hears
Summer too in plenty blest
Finds me poor & still distrest
Kind Autumn too so liberal & so free
Brings my old well known present—‘Poverty’

PATTY OF THE VALE

SUPRESSION OF A SIGH

THE RECANTATION

[O gentle star so placidly]

[Closly confind among humdruming wheels]

[Ye promisd me mary last michaelmas fair]

Ye promisd me mary last michaelmas fair
As how yed be mine—that ye woud
& to buy ye a wreath Id but sixpence to spare

TO RELIGION

Thou sacred light that right from wrong discerns
Thou safe guard of the soul—thou heaven on Earth
Thou under valluer of the worlds concerns
Thou disreguard of all its joys & mirth
Thou only home the housless wanderers have
Thou prop by which the pilgrims woes are born
Thou peace thou comfort of the hermits cave
That beds him down to rest on fates rude thorn
Thou only hope to sorrows bosom given
Thou voice of mercy when the weary call
Thou faith extending to thy home in heaven
Thou peace thou rest thou comfort all in all
My end & aim & guidance must thou be
My crutch to prop me to Eternity

MIDNIGHT (a)

VERSES ON MIDNIGHT MADE DURING A JOURNEY (b)

DAWNING OF GENIUS

Genius a pleasing rapture of the mind
A kindling warmth to Learning unconfin'd
Glows in each breast & flutters every vein
From arts Refinements to th'unculter'd swain
Such is that warmth the lowly shepherd proves
Pacing his native fields & willow Groves
Such is that joy which every scene unfolds
Which taste endeareth & fond memory holds
Such is that sympathy his heart attends
Makes bush & tree companions seem & friends
Such is that fondness from his soul sincere
That makes his native place so doubly dear
The sparks of genius Ignorance conceals
Gleams forth to relish what his Bosom feels
In those low paths which poverty surounds
The rough rude ploughman of his fallow grounds
Those nessascery tools of wealth & pride
While moild & sweating by some pasture side
How oft he'll stoop inquisitive to trace
The opening beauties of a daiseys face
& often witness with admiring eyes
The brooks sweet dimples oer the pebbles rise
& often bent as oer some magic spell
Hell pause & pick his shaped stone & shell
Raptures the while his inward powers inflame
& joys delight him which he cannot name
Ideas picture pleasing views to mind
For which his language can no utterance find
Increasing beauties fresh'ning on his sight
Unfold new charms & witness more delight
So while the present please the last decay
& in each [other] loosing melt away
Thus pausing wild on all he saunters by
He feels enrapturd tho he knows not why
& hums & mutters oer his joys in vain
& dwells on somthing which he cant explain
The bu[r]sts of thought with which his souls perplext
Are bred one moment & are gone the next
Yet still the heart will kindling sparks retain
& thoughts will rise & fancy strive again
(So have I markt the dying embers light
When on the hearth it fainted from my sight
A Glimmering glow oft redens up again
& sparks crack bright'ning into light in vain)
Still lingering out its kindling hopes to rise
Till faint & fainter the last twinkle dies
Vain burns the soul & throbs the fluttering heart
Their painfull pleasing feelings to impart
Till by successles sallies wearied quite
The memory fails & fancy takes her flight
The wickett nipt within its socket dies
Born down & smother'd in a thousand sighs

THE ANCIENT HEROE

Not with the nodding feathers modern pride
Or gilded swordcase dangling by his side
Or fringed shoulder nott or blazing star
Was bravery born the triumph of the war
But naked to the winds & dreary plain
Save wrapt in Skins his infant hands had slain
The hard young hero first appeard in sight
When David met the giants in the fight
With all the war armd soldiers vengance stung
The spear like thrust was dealt & stone he flung
& were the unskilful war the hottest came
His young unpractisd valour made its aim
While victory haild him not by thousands slain
But dauntless valour which the brave mentain
As beetling rocks wears the waves vengance out
His steady stands no shocks coud put to rout
The onset of the fight the last retir'd
The bright example which his followers fir'd
& each young Hero his rude weapon plied
With all a Soldiers valour by his side
& when beat down beneath a stronger foe
His feeble hands still turnd its vengful blow
Lookd up on braverys face for vengance sighd
& strove to rise & graspd his stick & dy'd

[Lost on the wild to the Storms biting breath]

Lost on the wild to the Storms biting breath
That thro her rags winnow so chill
All torn by the brambles & furze on the heath
& beat by the storm on the naked blea hill
A shade of the human form daily appears
The wild ecchos oft with her yell

[Wants yet on every side as deep suround me]

Wants yet on every side as deep suround me
& still deny life bettering sun to shine
& thou sweet bud wears sharpest thorns to wound me
Since every beauty every witcheries thine
To bind in triple ties this heart for ever
& every want & woe & sorrow mine
With contradicting force that tie to sever
Lifes storms may wreck but hope shall leave thee never
Towering far oer what bars my bliss from me
Where wants foul hinderance owns no worldly power
But freedom opening on equallity
Gives fre[e] acess to crop thy Virgin flower
Ah then like werter tho lifes joys we miss
Our wreckt desires shall meet in heavens eternal bliss

[Violet—thou art a lovly blossom]

Violet—thou art a lovly blossom
In early spring time purpling on my eye
Most snugly seated in the woods warm bosom
Neath budding brambles sheltering canophy
Untoucht by frowning tempest howling high
Their terrors thro the oak twigs melting green
That bows the daisey down upon the green
& threatens much the cowslaps trembling flow[er]s
Thou ere dwelst peacful in thy lonly scene
Thy oaks high towering & thy hazel bowers
Thou lowly hermit flower of Solitude
Thou plainly tellst a lesson unto me
The naked hill bears all the tempest rude
That wind decends to touch such thing as thee

[Tis sweet to view as on we pass]

Tis sweet to view as on we pass
Foot pads bending thro the grass
Leading to a thatched cot
In a sweet sequesterd spot
Side a wood or side a brook
Or pend snugly in a nook
Or left carless on a lea
Where the drooping willow tree
Friendly backs the roof behind
Keeping off the northern wind
There we think that peace abounds
Tracking sweet the cotters rounds
Rising as the mornings rise
Soon as dawn streaks red the skyes

TO THE NIGHTINGALE

Ah eve lov'd bird how sweet thy music floats
E'en hodge fine musics vulgar tasteles foe
Entirely thoughtless where's he's got to go
Stands struck with wonder at thy varied notes
Untill a pause ensuing brings to mind
His work at which he starts but touch'd so strong
Rememb'rance makes him as he plods along
Sing ‘Sweet jug, jug,’ and often look behind
To where they first begun—then such as these
O bird again repeat and let me know
If they (which do so much with others please)
Can sooth in me this anguish more than woe
For sure no anguish more tormenting stings
Then that which vexing dissapointment brings

TO THE MEMORY OF JAMES MERRISHAW A VILLAGE SCHOOLMASTER

What no plain stone? to court the strangers eye
No mournful strain to heave the tender sigh
Is not one record left? to mark the spot
Where thou art laid; or is thy name forgot
All! All! are lost, All perish'd in the tomb
And black oblivion triumphs oer thy doom
Ah! tho no careless muse one tribute gave
Nor cast one flowret on thy injur'd grave
Thy worth shall never die; while life remains
And health and memory their course sustains
While the blest vissitants attend my frame
I'll never cease to tell, thy worthy name
Tho weak my genius which would fain attone
To make thy memory and thy virtues known
Tho mean the lay to what thy worth requires
‘Yet naught is vain which gratitude inspires’
'Tis she that bids my artless muse pursue
Her lowly flight & give the tribute due
Due to thy worth thy memory and thy grave
For thou it was dear injur'd Man that gave
This little Learning which I now enjoy
A Gift so dear that nothing can destroy
T'was thou that taught my infant years to scan
The various evils that encompas man
Twas thou that taught my eager breast to shun
Those vain pursuits where thousands are undone
And if such choise Examples I decline
Then Shame belongs to me:—the praise is thine
This he has done for me:—Then rise my soul
Above the littlenes of lifes controul
Mind not what Booklearnt men or Critics say
Thine is the debt—and be it thine to pay

AN ACT OF CHARITY!!!

At H[elpsto]n town O rariety
What mighty acts of charity
Performing are—but chiefly one
The which we mean to treat upon
Bestow'd by that—but halt awhile
Such gifts require a loftier stile
In these uncommon things I trow
‘Bestow'd’ will sound a note too low
Then haste ye muse's haste away
And all your lofty sounds convey
Ransack your far-fam'd temple's oer
Bring musick never heard before
For sure such noble deeds require
Immortal hands to sound the lyre
But now a lucky thought pops in
Which makes high metaphors run thin
Methinks while thus invokins flow
My anxious reader longs to know
The Gift I sing ‘Bless us’ quoth he
‘Who can the great donator be’
‘For sure it must if I can read’
‘Be more than charity indeed’
‘If so; why need he sue for aid’
‘For “lofty sounds” or rich brocade’
‘Blest Charity!! her self illumnes’
‘Nor wants high “sounds” nor borrow'd plumes’
‘She is a subject so divine’
‘That nought on earth can brighter shine’

EPIGRAM ON LONDON

Ocasioned by Reading Mr Rolts Translation of Sannazario's (Famous) Epigram on Venice

Sannazar was a fool when he exclaim'd
That only men built Rome, and Gods fine Venice fram'd
For surely if we give old rome her due
She must be call'd the grandest of the two
Or why does History yield to her the praise?
In Architecture, Arts, and Laureat Bays
And must this be lookt oer in modern days?
That would be wrong indeed intirely wrong
To loose Vitruvious or a Virgil's song
But we may stop,—with Venice &c
For had he took Excursions further North
He'd found a City grander then 'em both
More skilld in Architectural Arts to build
More skilld in Arms to conquor in the field
Nay if Venice was fram'd so:—the only odds!
Is:—that London was fram'd by better men than gods!!

LUBIN & COLLIN

A Pastoral

Collin
Come Lubin let us leave this maple tree
Or we shall soon be dripping wet I see
E'en now (so thin the straggling branches spread)
The rain begins to patter on my head

Lubin
With all my heart for I could wish to gain
Our poor old hut that stands beside the plain
For see yon black'ning cloud begins to lower
And that loud hissing speaks a heavier shower
The sooner the better we get there I know
Then no more parley I'lle this instant go

Collin
Running so hard has put me out of breath
But I dont care so long as I'm beneath
This welcome hut once more—for now beguy
Rain e're so hard my shelter keeps me dry
Bring that shift tray & place it for a door
And strew that bunche of rushes on the floor
I'll sit me down and con my lesson well
For I have got a pleasant tale to tell
And something on your side—

Lubin
—why have you tho?
Then I dont care how soon you let me know

Collin
I mean to tell you all I've heard & seen
Since I've been keeping sheep upon the green
Whether by chance or how I cannot tell
Before I never speeded half so well
When going along one day to shift my penn
Some time last week but now I can't say when

Lubin
Well never mind the day nor when nor where
Tell me the tale that's all I whant to hear

Collin
Then you must know as I was going along
List'ning attentive to the woodlarks song
I heard or thought I h[e]ard a cheering sound
Come sweetly breathing oer the fallow ground
So soft so graceful did the tones combine
Young Thenot's piping ne'er was half so fine
Away I brush't inquisitive to know
From whence & where such Melody could flow
But when on coming near about the spot
The sounds where vanish'd & the song was not

Lubin
Aye how was that—it should be something quere
To hear far off and lose the sound when near
Twas fancy sure—but never mind what past
The heads give now and tell the substance last

IMPROMTU ON THE BATTLE OF ALEXANDRIA IN EGYPT

In one accord they shout with anxious breath
We fight! We fight! for Victory or death
Their halloo rends the vaulted skies
Their thundering Cannons sound
Away the frighted fre[n]chmen flies
By britons Courage drownd

SONG

[Come lovley Jenny haste away]

THE MEETING

CRAZY NELL

The Maniac

TO THE FOX FERN

Haunter of woods lone wilds & solitudes
Were none but feet of birds & things as wild
Doth print a foot track near were summers light
Buried in boughs forgets its glare & round thy crimped leaves
Feints in a quiet dimness fit for musings
& mellancholy moods with ere & there
A golden thread of sunshine stealing through
The evening shadowy leaves that seem to creep
Like leisure in the shade

[Mary I dare not call thee dear]

[‘Pink pink’ the bunting sings & picks its feather]

‘Pink pink’ the bunting sings & picks its feather
I love the note it speaks of winter weather
The blue cap seeks the mossy apple tree
& pecks the buds & flutters merrily
The sparrow noises in the cottage eaves
& hides from cats among the opening leaves

THE FAREWELL

SONNET ON THE RIVER GASH

Where winding gash wirls round its wildest scene
On this romantic bend I sit me down
On that side view the meads their smoothing green
Edg'd with the peeping hamlets checkering brown
Here the steep hill as dripping headlong down
While glides the stream a silver streak between
As glides the shaded clouds along the sky
Brightning & deep'ning loosing as they're seen
In light & shade—so when old willows lean
Thus their broad shadow—runs the river bye
With tree & bush repleat a wilderd scene
& mossd & Ivyd sparkling on my eye—
O thus wild musing am I doubly blest
My woes unheeding—& my heart at rest

TO MY OATEN REED

Thou warble wild of rough rude melody
How oft Ive wood thee—Often thrown thee bye
In many a doubtful rapture touching thee
Waking thy rural notes in many a sigh
Fearing the wise the wealthy proud & high
Would scorn as Vain thy lowly extacy
Deeming presumptious thy uncultur'd themes
Thus vainly courting taste's unblemish'd eye
To list a simple labourers artless dreams
—Erst may I wander into wide extreams—
But O thou sweet wild winding Rapsody
Thou gurgling charm that sooths my hearts controul
I take thee up—to smoothen many a sigh
& lull the throbbings of a woe worn soul

THE WAGTAILS DEATH & PITYS FEELINGS ON BABARITY

A Scene from Nature

THE DISCOVERY

or Song of Truth

‘MY LOVE THOU ART A NOSEGAY SWEET’

A Song

A BALLAD

[My loves like a lily my loves like a rose]

SONG

[True love the virgins first fond passion]

BETTY SELL

THE POETS WISH

SONG

[Women still are cold & jealous]

[Fair grows the tree by the side of the fountain]

Fair grows the tree by the side of the fountain
Green green grows the grass in the falls of the plain
Sweet smells the thyme on the caps of the mountains
& sweet from the woods thrill[s] the Mavis [h]is strains
The fair dripping branches & grasses green blooming
Adorn the cool fountain & carpet the plain
& molehills of thyme the wild mountains perfuming
Still do they bloom but to please me in vain

[Lost to all pleasures when pl[e]asure can please [me]]

SUMMER

MORNING WALK

Come lovely Lucy lets away
Sweet morning calls and we'll obey
Look yonder see the rising sun
His daily course has just begun
Lets lightly beat the dewy grass
And mark each object as we pass
There the unheeded daisy grows
There the golden kingcup blows
There the stinking briony weaves
Round the hazel her scollopt leaves
Here the woodbine and the rose
All their blushing sweets disclose
Ah lovely Lucy to describe
The different flowrets tribe by tribe
Would be too much for me or you
Or any shepherd lad to do
Nay had I Darwins prying thought
Or all the learing Ray has taught
How soon description would exaust
And in sweet floras lap be lost
Then let us leave this flowry nook
And hasten down to yonder brook
Behold how clear the dimpling stream
(Illuminated by the beam
Of glare-ey'd sol whose piercing rays
Along the babbling water plays)
Murmuring winds along the mead
O'er grown with sedgy rush and reed
O Lucy see how swift it flows
Continually—nor stillness knows
Just so is mortal man I ween
Toss'd along from scene to scene
He does no rest nor pleasure know
Untill hes' laid at rest below
Aye! Lucy why so wan and pale
Dost thou dislike my moral tale
Or does some wrankling thought molest
The peaceful harbour of thy breast
If so the lurking fiend disarm
Drive away this magic charm
All thy meek beauties reasume
Let the soft flush thy face illume
Let all be gentle all be gay
Like yon skipping lambs at play
See how they chase along the rill
Now they scale the thymy hill
Now sporting backwards now advance
Now they join in merry dance
There they frisk it round and round
Till weariness their limbs confound
Contented then they sink to rest
In tranquil ease and plenty blest
Learn then from these thy mind to form
And no weak thought or passion storm
Thy tender breast—let all be calm
None but the foolish dream of harm
These trifles which thy mind surprise
Are counted blessings by the wise
Hark how the birds in yonder lawn
Ply forth their notes to hail the morn
Then let us haste their songs to hear
Melodious sweet divinely clear
First I list the woodlarks song
Now the linnet joins the throng
Next the cuckoo's well known tale
Echo's responsive through the vale
Now the thrush and black birds sing
While the air with music rings
Now the Hedge-chat on the spray
Warbles forth her feeble lay
Nay e'en the meanest birds that fly
The rook the jay and chattering pie
Join their harsh notes intent to praise
The god who all their wants repays
What thankful songs these creatures give
For the small morsels they receive
While we who all his bounties share
Scarce offer up a single prayr
Now we'll thro' the coppice stray
Behold this riding points the way
Delightful walk enchanting shade
For nymphs and dryades only made
Here the albion muses dwell
In oaken bower and primrose cell
Here heartfelt peace is only found
Sitting on the leaf strew'd ground
And every nymph and goddes slim
Lives here unseen in gaily trim
Hail rural shades retirement sweet
We once more tread with willing feet
Thy briery wood-bound paths among
(Where nature dwells in ample throng)
Intent on every charm to gaze
And pry along thy leafy maze
How pleasant. . .

EMMA

—SONG

THE INVITATION

ANXIETY

One oer heaths wandering in a pitch dark night
Making to sounds that hope some village near
Hermit retreating to a chinky light
Long lost in winding caverns dark & drear
A slave long banish'd from his country dear
By freedom left to seek his native plains
A soldier absent many a long long year
In sight of home ere he that confort gains
A thirsty labourer wight that wistful strains
O'er the steep hanging bank to reach the stream
A hope delay so lingeringly detains
We still in point of its disclosure seems
These pictures weakly 'zemble to the eye
A faint Existance of Anxiety

A RAMBLE

What ist wi breaking thro the hedge
& in the dyke pit pattering rustles in
Through moss & witherd leaves uncoothly [born]
Tis that poor hedgehog every bristles up
A thousand spears in the defensive winds
Protects these timid creatures & preserves
For combat or for flight
Ah quiet disconcerted timid friend
Thy claw is rough as [OMITTED] through
A trifle such as nature musters up
To wind her way compleatly round
& make a graceful finish
A trifle such as every bosom loves
Which honest taste of nature does Inspire
How sweet to wind the lane confined as now
In a lovd prison of oer hanging boughs
As loosd & wirls each turning round & round
Some new variety keeps d[r]op[p]ing in
Fresh flowr or scene speckt cot or steeples point
Just sprouting oer the horizon still changing sweet
[Flowering] lovley & for ever new
As on proceeding to the lanes last end
[Pastor[a]lls] gently on a hill whose rise commands
A bursting view apprising on the eye
Brooks silver shined & wood shades greening deep
Meadow & culterd field of varied hue
& Hierogliphs of art dropt here & there
& mingling patchd with cottages & spires
As rugged & as barren as it seems
This heath too has its beauties
Brush we on Unheeding rude assaults
Of Brambles' pertinent & catching finger
So sweetly wild & perminant of hue
& heaths low creeping in their pinky bloom
& here beside the dead bents rustling tuft
A blossom hides its beauties from the world
& such a one as natures happiest hand
Neer took a tool to scoop & hollow out
One of more curious interesting form
Its speckld petals c[a]lyx burnishd gold
Inmixd with somber hues exactly forms
A living ins cot for Industry famd
& hence this natures solitary gem
That numbers in her calender of curosities
[Gains] its distinguishment tho neer unknown
The ‘Bee flower’ apt characteristic name

[To stand the brunts of toil & stormy weather]

To stand the brunts of toil & stormy weather
What many gewgaws of the softer sex
What simpring charms to tempt us & perplex
Some with a killing dart from [OMITTED] eye
Our heart receives em as we pass em bye
Some with a rosy cheek have hearts at will
A smile relieves us or a frown must kill
A ruby lip shapd hand or swelling breast
Forbids the aching heart to be at rest
Needless to mention every zembling art
Curls paint & patches but a minutes smart
Deception charms while ignorance befriends
But hate atends the cheat expeirence ends
Charms purly nature beautys still remain
Charms patchd by Art are sickning & vain
Some with a voice bewitch our ravishd ears
As tho they stole the music of [the] spheres
& many a heart has been deserted found
Smit with the eden that appears in sound
& here sweet D[amo]n thy pleasing power excels
Where many a captive heart enrapturd dwells
Here where thy charms an easy conquest makes
Here heaven breaks silence while the angel speaks
But when she sings then charms before unknown
Make all that hear her wish such charms unknown
Blest is the authors toil her voice displays
For what she sings can never fail of praise
No longer in despair he lives unknown
But meets applause for merits not his own
& woudst thou d---m the [OMITTED]

[Thy eye can witness more then others]

SONNET

[Well have I learnd the value of vain life]

Well have I learnd the value of vain life
Long have I stood the worlds reproach & scorn
& braved fates sea full many a cloudy morn
Long bristling many a waves contending strife
Long curs'd the luckless day that saw me born
& brought to light my miserys & me
But now vain life & use me how ye will
Ill kiss the rod & smile at every ill
Ive learnd thy value & I've learnd thy end
A mad braind wanderer & without a friend
Age learnd me little & experience much
& as a beggar leans upon his crutch
On my last hope a pilgrim here I bend
For peace beyond the grave were all my woes shall end

[So now says he weegling how matters went wi im]

So now says he weegling how matters went wi im
As Ive begd food & clothing & nobody gi em
The next plan to take is—hard fortune a curs ont
As beging wornt speed I mun rob & make wors ont
Tho the case stans wi that as it stood wi the tother
I may as well dy by one death as dye by another
The hemp fevers dreadful—as terrors can mak it
But still reasons plain if as plain I can take it
Where force puts no choise we mun put up wi pinches
Hemp mays well end at once ont what hunger but inches
So now for their desent behaviour Ill comb em
What they wornt gie fairly Ill foul take from em
So said on the high road he took up his station
Wi trifles he first gan his new occupation
But in practise grown bolder—succeses still speeding
Tempted actions more dareing to crown the preceeding
Till hardend in robbing—O horror forbidding
He dard to do murder—which shall not be hidden
Young readers take warning ye ha the Example
O the ‘fruits of Idleness’ this is a sample
Friendship is but Vanity hope not there giving
Let your hands be your trust for the honestest living
He was taen & condemnd in the hopes o' his glory
& a Gallows deservd serves to finis the story

[Had they but got a haunch of bread]

Had they but got a haunch of bread
& silver george to spare
The labours pay without the work
I shoudnt may be care
Till pitch dark night the light een shows
& cheerfulness on monday

[Full many troubles vext my hate]

Full many troubles vext my hate
& many silly wims
& fain upon the sunny bank
Id stretchd my lazy limbs
The fleering witches nigh at hand
Kep [OMITTED] me forsooth
Muses I [OMITTED] [echo agen] are vain
Ive [OMITTED] uncooth

[Shepherd why is this complaining]

TO REVD MR HOLLAND

When trembling genius makes her first essay
By ignorance & poverty opprest
Nipt struggling in oppressions cloudy day
Ah who can tell the anguish of the breast
The doubts & fears that throng her thorny way
That fill the eye & rob the Soul of rest
Hail Holland hail thou friend to worth distrest
Thou man of taste from thy discerning eye
My artless strains have found a ready friend
The muse by thee a loftier flight will try
Thou thou alone her artless strains commend
& feign some token in return she'd send
Though rough the strain great will thy praise appear
Canst thou believe it that she sings sincere

[Not booted foplings when their cloaths misfit]

Not booted foplings when their cloaths misfit
Not cleanly nurs maids when the babes be---t
Not the old toper his most dreadful curse
That slinks the last sad sixpence from his purse
Not the young wench that coxcombs lies believd
Not wrinkld dames a second time decievd
Not doubtful bard that first appears in print
Dreading the evils the vain World has int
Not all the plagues that haunt this world below
Nor each sad Victim with his several woe

[The driving clouds in dark condension hung]

The driving clouds in dark condension hung
The village bell its warning summons rung
& every witch that doubtful forcd to roam
Was by the welcom call conducted home
The roads bemird with hasty showers of rain
& Evenings cautions hung her lamps in vain
The sweeping moonbeams momentary peep
Behind the racking clouds was ushd to sleep
The fare moon neath many a lulling sweep
Of bright rack riding clouds had sunk in sleep
Or only winking thro thin folded shrouds
& only wakend thro disparted clouds

[Twas but a wild bramble that catchd at her gown]

Twas but a wild bramble that catchd at her gown
While the bramble of doubt stung her breast
Uneasy she saunterd again to the town
& in bed waited vainly for rest

[Man in that Age no rule but Reason knew]

Man in that Age no rule but Reason knew
And with a native bent did good pursue,
Unawd by punishment, and void of fear,
His words were simple and his soul sincere
By no forced laws his passions were confin'd
For conscience kept his heart, and calm'd his mind,
Peace o'er the world, her blessed sway maintain'd
And e'en in Desarts smiling Plenty reign'd—

[I Saw a Tree with Cheries Red]

I Saw a Tree with Cheries Red,
Whole Height was 40 Foot,
A Moat against it hinder'd me
That I could not get to't,
The Moat was 30 Feet all Wet
The Question now must be
How Long a Ladder I must Set
To reach the Top o' the Tree.

[As I was walking out one Day]

As I was walking out one Day,
Which happened on the first of May;
As luck would have it, I did spy,
A May Pole raised up on high;
The which at first me much surpriz'd,
Not being before hand advertiz'd;
Of such a strange uncommon sight,
I said I would not stir that Night;
Nor rest content, until I'd found,
Its height exact from off the Ground;
But when these Words, I just had spoke,
A blast of Wind the May-Pole broke;
Whose broken Piece I found to be,
Exact in length, yards sixty three,
Which by its fall broke up a hole,
Twice fifteen Yards from off the Pole;
But this being all that I can do,
The May-Pole now being broken in two
Unequal Parts, to aid a Friend,
Ye Youths pray then an answer send.

[Thrice Welcome to thy song sweet warbling thrush]

Thrice Welcome to thy song sweet warbling thrush
May you be happy as you still have been
The present sunshine warms your covert bush
The future clouds you know not what they mean
Vain foolish thought & why should ye be [sad]
Why be like me with ills to come oprest
To pass the present bliss that may be had
& wait on sorrow as a welcome guest
No sing thou on & let me sorrow still
I cant be happy be it as it will
In vain the sun gleams thro the prison grate
To cheer the felon thats condemnd to dye
[H]is soul in anguish mourns impending fate
Such pains are his & such a one am I

[Beneath thies hedge how happy have I felt]

Beneath thies hedge how happy have I felt
As I have hummed oer my rustic songs
Upon this bank how often have I knelt
& wi the cow boy plated rushy thongs

TO SUSAN ETHINNINGTON

TO A COLD BEAUTY, INSENSIBLE OF LOVE

ON YOUTH

Ah, youth's sweet joys! why are ye gone astray?
Fain would I follow could I find a plan:
To my great loss are ye exchang'd away,
For that sad sorrow-ripening name—a man.
Far distant joys! the prospect gives me pain:
Ah, happiness! and hast thou no return?
No kind concern to call thee back again,
And bid this aching bosom cease to mourn?
The daisies' hopes have met another Spring,
Poor standard tenants on a stormy plain;
The lark confirms it on his russet wing;
And why alone am I denied? in vain:
Ah, youth is fled!
A second blossom I but vainly crave:
The flower, that opes with peace to come,
Is budding in the grave.

THE FIRST OF MAY

A BALLAD

APPROACH OF SPRING

Sweet are the omens of approaching Spring,
When gay the elder sprouts her winged leaves;
When tootling robins carol-welcomes sing,
And sparrows chelp glad tidings from the eaves.
What lovely prospects wait each wakening hour,
When each new day some novelty displays;
How sweet the sun-beam melts the crocus flower,
Whose borrow'd pride shines dizen'd in his rays:
Sweet, new-laid hedges flush their tender greens;
Sweet peep the arum-leaves their shelter screens;
Ah! sweet are all which I'm denied to share:
Want's painful hindrance sticks me to her stall;—
But still Hope's smiles unpoint the thorns of Care,
Since Heaven's eternal Spring is free for all.

SUMMER

The oak's slow-opening leaf, of deepening hue,
Bespeaks the power of Summer once again;
While many a flower unfolds its charms to view,
To glad the entrance of his sultry reign.
Where peep the gaping, speckled cuckoo-flowers,
Sweet is each rural scene she brings to pass;
Prizes to rambling school-boys' vacant hours,
Tracking wild searches through the meadow grass:
The meadow-sweet taunts high its showy wreath,
And sweet the quaking grasses hide beneath.
Ah, 'barr'd from all that sweetens life below,
Another Summer still my eyes can see
Freed from this scorn and pilgrimage of woe,
To share the Seasons of Eternity.

[Ah doubtful bard perhaps in vain]

Ah doubtful bard perhaps in vain
You scribble your expected gain
Fortunes a hazard all would wait
As hopeful of some better fate
Trembling victims want wears down
Chance deals not worth her smile or frown
A Southey hears the whispering strain
The bards own'd great but sings in vain
A Southey hears his numbers roll
Of poetry the very soul
Go witness his inspired strains
And ask the poet what's the gains
A suffocating shower of praise
A treetops mighty crown of bays
And the same time ah who'd believe
As crawls the louse the beggars sleave
May hopeless faint and poor as thee
Sing those fine strains to Poverty
The scribbler next behold him shine
[Keen] to correct the poets line
In many a wise unmeaning slare
And many a consequential stare
And sits him down and hums along
And finds where he fancies must be wrong
And insect dry discoursing gammer
Tells what's not rhyme and what's not grammar
Leering and pleas'd at faults the while
To help the lame dog o'er the stile
And was this Critic known forsooth
(Twould be ill manners speaking truth)
Spite of his learning glean'd at colledge
His outward titles inward knowledge
His learning which he brags so much
To act Longinus or as such
A Critic brag who learning pothers
So great himself to judge for others
Is just as fit if I discern
As whopstraw lowking in a barn
Who B fro' bulls foot couldn't tell ye
Nor yet the deep hid difference tell ye
Or fitless as with less a farce on
The parish clerk to act the parson
Then smiling at me o'er the table
And told a corresponding fable
‘Mong the wood minstrels years ago
‘There always join'd a scoundrel crow
‘Pretending much to critics learning
‘In singing wonderous deep discerning
‘Such taste such baseness (neer doubt him)
‘Twas vain to sing aught without him
‘Of so much consequence was he
‘Such insolence and poetry
‘As neither blackbird thrust or linnett
‘Could meet in peace to sing a minute
‘Without the jabbering beggars bother
‘In finding fault with one or other
‘Once on a time the croaking devil
‘As fate ordaind bad luck to cavil
‘The birds all met no way to quarrel
‘But just to talk about the laurel
‘Each one to give as was the thesis
‘Of his abilities a species
‘Extempore ode or song to be
‘Or any choice of poetry
‘To's worth and judgment might bequeath
‘The then left vacant laurel wreath
‘Which lay as crowns off left bargaring
‘Till heads were found as worth the wearing
‘The crow still first in each affair
‘As chief decider took the chair
‘With great pretensions (ham) and spirit
‘To see who had and had not merit
‘In his eye merits fex were small
‘None earnd a praise faults due to all
‘To some he bid them hold their tongues
‘And never more pretend to songs
‘Best for your selves I'd have ye know it
‘Ye'll never match to be the poet
‘So ne'er be hurt at my refusal
‘But follow your calling 'gain as usual
‘To others he was more a friend
‘And said by practise they might mend
‘Gave hopeful hints when faults confuted
‘As corresponding genius suited
‘And though he said the prize is vain
‘Each competition strove to gain
‘They might in time wi' careful pushes
‘At such a meeting meet their wishes
‘Each bird had sung his ode or sonnet
‘And heard the critics 'pinions on it
‘Some nettld their revenges mutter'd
‘And all disliking inly flutter'd
‘At last a mavis from the bush
‘Or if ye like a mavis thrush
‘Bespoke the criticiser thus
‘Old friend you make a monstrous fuss
‘And find says he uncommon fault
‘More doubtless far than what you ought
‘Sure you must be so vers'd in taste and learning
‘So deep and witty in discerning
‘To judge of others as you do
‘What might we not expect from you
‘You've prov'd us all we've all a fault
‘And no one sings so well's we ought
‘Your singings chance 'bove ours is double
‘The wreath is yours without the trouble

ADDRESS TO THE SLUGGARD

Awake thou sluggard cou'd thy drowzy soul
Lay sloth aside—be resolute enough
To trace the fields and silver studded woods
While each grass point and velvet knobbed flower
Bends arching with a gem—O couldst thou but
Meet the first breath, which morning zephyrs breath
Pilfering and culling, skimming woods and fields
Who like a robber lingers for the chance
When wakening nature opens all her stores
Molests her entrance and unbid intrudes
With forcing rape—to sip her sweetest charms
Then in a heedless and make gamely fit
Scatter their beauties o'er a thankless world
O wouldst thou but
List to the hymn of day break when the woods
Echo in harmony where lark and thrush
And blackbirds music thrilling low and loud
Ah didst thou witness
What the morning is when sun beams sweet
As curdling through the dewy misted panes
Checkers the wall and urges thee to rise
Couldst thou but tell
What charms which Ign'rance passes unconcernd
At that same hour enraptur'd genius sees
And with enchanted ravishment admires
With natures charms intoxicated—how
Trace wood and field
Pause on each flower and varied leaf 'cognise
Lost in the bliss which nature yields & none
But natures children know
O couldst thou feel
The thrilling burning extacy of soul
The throbbing beat that heaves the bosoms charm
While musing on the work of power divine
When in each meanest mite on earth or sea
Its makers Image wonderfully shines
When genius left in wonders void to pause
Thrills into adoration's silent praise
And bent enraptur'd hails the Lord of all
Didst thou know this thy shocky bed
Which seems to thee so comfortable now
Lost in its drowsy apathy and ease
Would like a dungeon seem and please no more
But when nights curtain lap't thee up to sleep
And shut in darkness natures weary eye
As sickness bed is to the fated wretch
To thee its necessary rest would seem
A forc'd releif as loath'd to be enjoy'd

[On Saturday night she was strewing her sand]

SONG TAKEN FROM MY MOTHERS & FATHERS RECITATION & COMPLEATED BY AN OLD SHEPHERD

He
Fare you well my own true love
& fare you well for a while
I will be sure to return back again
If I go ten thousand mile my dear
If I go ten thousand mile

She
Ten thousand mile is a long way
When from me you are gone
Youll leave me here to lament & sigh
But you never will hear me mourn my dear
But you never will hear me moan

He
To hear you mourn I cannot bear
Nor cure you of your disease
But I shall be sure to return back again
When all your friends is pleased my dear
When all your friends is pleased

THE FOUNTAIN

TO HOPE

(In a Melancholy Hour)

DOLLYS MISTAKE OR WAYS OF THE WAKE

VERSES WRITTEN ON THE BANKS OF THE RIVER GWASH AT BRIDGE CASTERTON

THE BATTLE

an A Air Intended for a Dramatic Entertainment ‘The Man of my Chusing’

[A pleasant path a little path]

A pleasant path a little path
Goes thro the meadow hay
Where in the summer many a swath
Fresh mown stops up the way

[As hopes fair sun breaks fates desponding gloom]

SONG

[Slighted love I little heeded]

SONG

[In a bonny black wench & the best I set eyes on]

[The hind that were chopping them up for his fire]

The hind that were chopping them up for his fire
Een stood like a poet awhile to admire
& when I last sat here to listen the thrush
I lookd on yon knowll at our favourite bush
Were gipseys campd round it in freedom did dwell
& a swain told its history that knew it so well
About a court yearly being kept neath its boughs
In its youth—when his forefathers herded the cows
While the bush oer our heads blooming feeble & old
Seemd listning in sorrow the story he told
& sighd as the winds summer breath flutterd bye
Its few scatterd leaves as one ready to dye
Tho the gipseys haunt still the lovd spot as before
& the swain calls it still by the name it once bore
Langley bush with its scard trunk & grey mossy bough
Is fled & the scene is left desolate now
A storm that made shepherds in dread for an hour
& boild oer the hills with its thunder & shower
Struck it down to the earth were it withering lay
Till the gipseys sought firing & hauld it away
When the shepherd returnd as the tempest was bye
From his hut of thatchd brakes that had sheltered him dry
He lookd with supprise & a fearful anoy
On the fall of his favourite known from a boy
& I thus to witness its sorrowful end
Feel a loss for its fate as I do for a friend

A SIMPLE EFFUSION ADDRESS'D TO MY LAME FATHER

AN EFFUSION TO POETRY

Written after recieving a damp from a genteel opinionist in poetry & of some sway (as I am told) in the literary world

Despis'd, unskill'd or how I Will
Sweet poetry I love thee still
Vain, (cheering comfort) tho I be
I still must love thee poetry
A poor rude clown & what of that
I cannot help the will of fate
A lowly clown altho I be
Nor can I help it loving thee
Still must I love thee sweetest charm
Still must my soul in raptures warm
Still must my rudeness pluck the flower
Thats plucked in an evil hour
While learning scowls her scornful brow
& damps my soul—I know not how—
Labour 'cause thourt mean & poor
Learning spurns thee from her door
But despise thee how she will
Poetry I love thee still
When on pillowd thorns I weep
Vain when stretc[h]'d me down to sleep
Then thou charm from heaven above
Comforts cordial dost thou prove
Then engaging poesy
Then how sweet to talk with thee
& be despisd or how I will
I cannot help but love thee still
Endearing charm vain tho I be
I still must love the[e] poetry
Still must I—aye I cant refrain
Dampt despisd or scorn'd again
With vain unhallow'd liberty
Still must I sing thee poetry
& poor & vain & prest beneath
Oppressions scorn altho I be
Still will I bind my simple wreath
Still must I love thee Poetry

‘HOW D'YE DO & GOOD BYE’

AUTUMN

Now autumns sorrows meet the faded leaf
& sick & faint resumes her hopless care
No flower or minstrel bird consoles her grief
Silent & wan as beauty in despair
Still autumn do I love thy faded face
Thy sad still musings on the dying year
Thy downcast eye thy solemn suited pace
Holds each a charm as beauty with her tear
Thy mournful sighs that wake the woods despair
Thy fading dress that leaves thy bosom bare
All all exulting while they seem to sigh
Another spring & seasons bloom is given
& man frail flower hope glads his tearful eye
That tho he dies on earth he blooms again in heaven

SUMMER MORNING

THE DYING SNOWDROP

TO THE VIOLET

Hail to the[e] violet sweet carless spread
Neath each warm bush & covert budding hedge
In many a pleasing walk have I been led
To seek thee—promise of springs earliest pledge
In modest coyness hanging down its head
Unconsious hiding beautys from the eye
& sweetly brooding oer its gracful form
Shunning each vulgar gaze that saunters by
& timly stooping from an april storm
As virtue startled by approaching harm
Shrinks from delusions false betraying hand[s]
With bashful look that more the bosom warms
So sweetest blossom the coy violet stands
Tempting the plunderer with a double charm

[There was three ravens sat upon a tree]