Poems by the late Hon. William R. Spencer :: :: University of Virginia Library

Poems by the late Hon. William R. Spencer

A New Edition with Corrections and Additions; To Which is Prefixed A Biographical Memoir by the Editor

Spencer, William Robert (1769-1834)

[section]

POEMS.

DEDICATION TO SARAH, COUNTESS OF JERSEY.

[Ere yet with manhood's vain desire]

THE YEAR OF SORROW.

CHORUS FROM THE IPHIGENIA IN AULIS OF EURIPIDES. WRITTEN AT HARROW SCHOOL, IN THE YEAR 1784.

EPITAPH ON THE COUNTESS HARRIET JENISON, MAID OF HONOUR TO LOUISA, LANDGRAVINE OF HESSE DARMSTADT.

THE BLUSH.

THE VISIONARY.

THE NURSING OF TRUE LOVE.

ANSWER TO A LADY'S VERSES ON “TO-MORROW.”

ORIGIN OF A PEN.

EPITAPH ON MISS SPENCER,

BETH GÊLERT,

TO THE MARCHIONESS OF DOUGLAS AND CLYDESDALE.

PROLOGUE TO “THE GRAVE:”

TO A BUTTERFLY,

PROLOGUE TO THE WYNSTAY MASQUERADE,

SONG.

TO MISS ---.

SYBILLINE VERSES,

INVITATION TO KENSINGTON GARDENS.

LOVE OUT OF PLACE.

TO ---.

TO GEORGE R. CHINNERY, ESQ.

THE EMIGRANT'S GRAVE.

TO THE HON. MISS CREWE (NOW MRS. CUNLIFFE),

GOOD-BYE, AND HOW-D'YE-DO.

TO MY GRAMMATICAL NIECE.

TO A YOUNG POETESS.

TO THE VISCOUNTESS HINCHINBROOK,

SONG FROM THE COMEDY OF URANIA.

SONG FROM THE SAME.

WRITTEN IN A GARDEN.

EPITAPH UPON THE YEAR 1806.

TO THE LADY ANNE HAMILTON.

THANKS TO A LADY

TO LADY ---.

ON A DYING BAY-TREE.

OCCASIONAL PROLOGUE TO LE TEXIER'S PROVERBS.

CHRISTMAS CAROL.

ON THE SOUNDS PRODUCED BY THE WIND PASSING OVER THE STRINGS OF A PEDAL HARP IN A GARDEN.

PARTING SONG.

ON READING MILTON WITH A YOUNG LADY.

TO ---.

ON A LADY'S BIRTHDAY,

ADDRESSED TO LADY SUSAN FINCASTLE,

FROM SISTER DOLLY IN CASCADIA, TO SISTER TANNY IN SNOWDONIA.

TO THOMAS MOORE, ESQ. DECEMBER, 1808.

TO MRS. SPENCER,

TO THE MEMORY OF EDWARD DONEY,

TO SPENCER CAMERON,

LINES SENT TO MRS. HANS SOTHEBY, WITH A CAWDLE-CUP.

Collapse All | Expand All expand section

207

PARTING SONG.

Ere yet we slumbers seek,
Blest queen of song, descend;
Thy shell can sweetest speak
Good night to guest and friend.

'Tis pain, 'tis pain to part
For e'en one fleeting night;
But music's matchless art
Can turn it to delight.

How sweet the farewell glass,
When music gives it zest;
How sweet their dreams who pass
From harmony to rest!

Dark thoughts that scare repose,
At music's voice give place,
And Fancy lends her rose,
Sleep's poppy wreath to grace.