The Wiccamical Chaplet :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Wiccamical Chaplet

a selection of original poetry; comprising smaller poems, serious and comic; classical trifles; sonnets; inscriptions and epitaphs; songs and ballads; mock-heroics, epigrams, fragments, &c. &c. Edited by George Huddesford

Huddesford, George (1749-1809)

[epigraph]

[dedication]

SMALLER POEMS, AND ODES.

ELEGIES, AND PLAINTIVE PIECES.

NUGÆ POETICÆ, &c.

SONNETS.

SONNET I. THE WORLD.

II.

SONNET II. FROM THE ITALIAN.

III.

SONNET III. TO Mr. WARTON,

IV.

SONNET IV. ON THE AUTHOR's BIRTH-DAY.

SONNET V. TO LAURA.

VI.

SONNET VI. THE RETURN OF LAURA.

VII.

SONNET VII. TO VALCLUSA.

VIII.

SONNET VIII. IMITATION FROM FAUSTINA MARATTI.

IX.

SONNET IX. ON DOVER CLIFFS.

SONNET X. TO AN OAK Blown down by the Wind.

XI.

SONNET XI. MORNING.

XII.

SONNET XII. TO BOCCACCIO.

XIII.

SONNET XIII. INSANIENTIS DUM SAPIENTIÆ.

XIV.

SONNET XIV. TO AN INFANT.

XV.

SONNET XV. RETIREMENT.

XVI.

SONNET XVI. ON A WET SUMMER.

XVII.

SONNET XVII. On a Revolution in the Opinions and Conduct of a Friend, whose Notions were supposed to be a little too free; and who was also supposed to have an Amour with a Lady who sung elegantly.

XVIII.

SONNET XVIII. ON THE DEATH OF THOMAS WARTON.

INSCRIPTIONS AND EPITAPHS.

SONGS AND BALLADS.

MOCK-HEROICAL AND BURLESQUE PIECES, PARODIES, EPIGRAMS, &c.

MISCELLANEOUS PIECES, FRAGMENTS, &c.

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SONNET XIV. TO AN INFANT.

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Dear Babe, whose meaning by fond looks exprest,
Thy only little eloquence, might move
The sternest soul to tenderness and love,
While thus, nor taught by age to fawn, nor drest
In Treachery's mask, nor Falsehood's glittering vest,
Thou sweetly smilest: at the pleasing sight,
Wretch as I am, unwonted to delight,
A transient gleam of gladness cheers my breast:
Yet soon again bursts forth th'unbidden tear,
And inly bleeds my heart, while I divine
What chilling blasts may nip thy riper year,
What blackening storms may cloud thy life's decline;
What for myself I feel, for thee I fear:
Nay! God forbid my woes should e'er be thine!