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Select poems of Edward Hovel Thurlow

Lord Thurlow

Thurlow, Edward Hovell-Thurlow (1781-1829)

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VERSES, IN ALL HUMILITY DEDICATED TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS The Prince Regent.

THE SECOND ELEGY OF The Fourth Book of Tibullus.

SONNET, ON BEHOLDING THE PORTRAITURE OF SIR PHILIP SIDNEY, IN THE GALLERY AT PENSHURST.

SONNET, ON THE DIVINE AND NEVER ENDING MEMORY OF SIR PHILIP SIDNEY .

SONG. To the Rose.

SONNET. To Phœbus.

A SONG, IN APRIL.

A SONG, To the River Avon.

1.

A SONG OF THE SEA-FAIRIES.

2.

A SECOND SONG OF THE SEA-FAIRIES.

TO THE MARQUESS OF HASTINGS:

AN EPIGRAM OF ANTIPATER OF SIDON

FROM THE GREEK OF ANACREON.

SONNET, ON THE EXCELLENT POET, SHAKSPEARE.

SONNET, ON THE SAME.

THE PRAISE OF PINDAR, AND THEN OF AUGUSTUS CÆSAR

THE SUN-FLOWER.

EPIGRAM; FROM THE GREEK: In the Seventh Book of the Anthologia.

TO THE EARL OF ASHBURNHAM .

TO THE EARL SPENCER,

TO THE MARQUESS OF HASTINGS,

TO THE FOUNTAIN BANDUSIA.

TO A BELOVED FRIEND.

ON BEHOLDING BODIAM CASTLE,

TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ.

SONNET, ON READING THE INDUCTION TO THE MIRROR OF MAGISTRATES, WHEREIN THE POET, LED BY SORROW, DESCENDS TO HELL.

SONNET, WHEN TRAVELLING, IN THE EVENING.

ON THE SAME EVENING, PASSING NEAR HASTINGS.

ON THE SAME EVENING.

THE DIALOGUE OF HORACE AND LYDIA.

SONG, IN ANGELICA.

LINES, COMPOSED, WHEN TRAVELLING FROM THE SEA-SIDE.

TO THE RIVER THAMES.

THE RITES, Had at the Burning of Arcita, of Thebes.

SONNET, WRITTEN ON THE LAST DAY OF SUMMER.

IN AUTUMN.

ON THE POEM OF MR. ROGERS, ENTITLED “AN EPISTLE TO A FRIEND.”

SONNET, IN SPRING.

SONNET, TO A BIRD, THAT HAUNTED THE WATERS OF LACKEN, IN THE WINTER.

THE ODES OF ANACREON, OF TEOS;

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83

IN AUTUMN.

The mournful earth is fellow to my woe,
The hills and valleys to my anthems sing,
That now no more the golden sunbeams flow,
But waning Autumn of the world is king.
The woods and gardens to my songs reply,
They feel the loss, which they in change sustain;
The fountains on me look with careful eye,
And fondly of the creeping cold complain:
The winged horses now have lost their powers,
The musing herds within the meadows stand,
The birds are hush'd amid' their naked bowers,
And insects in the cells themselves have plann'd;
All sight and sound is of a mournful cast,
And tell to man the golden prime is past.