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Reminiscences, in Prose and Verse

Consisting of the Epistolary Correspondence of Many Distinguished Characters. With Notes and Illustrations. By the Rev. R. Polwhele
Polwhele, Richard (1760-1838)

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VOL I.
  
SONNET ON THE SOUND OF A BELL AT POLWHELE.
  
[These garments stored up by a Canon, forsooth]
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VOL. II.
  
SONNET, Written February 24th, between three and four in the afternoon, when the funeral procession was advancing towards Truro, and the minute bell at St. Mary's tolling:—
  
Madam Cant to Miss Pert.
  
[Alas! such idle hours are fled]
  
[His perilous state if not resembling]
  
THE LAMP.
  
THE GOUT.
  
THE TARTAR.
  
The last-left Evening Primrose
  
On an Apple-tree full of blossom, Sept. 11th
  
[------“'Twas my lot, ere long to roam]
  
[The historian tells us, that Caligula—]
  
TRURO.
  
Truro Ten-pounders.
  
[Lunching with Baucis and Philemon]
  
[Herod the bawling brats of Bedlam]
  
The Impromptu
  
THE PARENTS TO THEIR CHILDREN ON THE 1ST OF JANUARY, 1834.
  
THE SABBATH-EVENING WALK.
  
[A tissue but of joy and grief]
  
[Ah! who are they that have not lost]
  
[Where roars the Westering surge—“Lo! Methodism]
  
[Peace officers! four doughty fellows!]
  
[Silent, stant auribus erectis”—]
  
[Though here, not much renown'd for Beauty]
  
[“Nor Roman prow, nor daring Tyrian oar]
  
[Lo, at long intervals, the rage is]
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VOL. III.
  
[dedication]
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SONNETS.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
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POETRY.
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THE MERCHANT OF SMYRNA; OR, LOVE AND GRATITUDE.
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ACT I.—
 I. 
SCENE I.
 II. 
SCENE II.
 III. 
SCENE III.
 IV. 
SCENE IV.
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ACT II.—
 I. 
SCENE I.
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SCENE II.
  
SONG.
  
SONG.
 III. 
SCENE III.
 IV. 
SCENE IV.
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ACT III.—
 I. 
SCENE I.
 II. 
SCENE II.
 IV. 
SCENE IV.
 V. 
SCENE V.
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THE SYRIAN PRINCESS.
collapse sectionI. 
ACT I.—
 I. 
SCENE I.
 II. 
SCENE II.
 III. 
SCENE III.
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ACT II.—
 I. 
SCENE I.
 II. 
SCENE II.
 III. 
SCENE III.
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ACT III.—
 I. 
SCENE I.
 II. 
SCENE II.
 III. 
SCENE III.
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ACT IV.—
 I. 
SCENE I.
 II. 
SCENE II.
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ACT V.—
 I. 
SCENE I.
 II. 
SCENE II.
 III. 
SCENE III.
 IV. 
SCENE IV.
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DARTMOOR.
 I. 
[I.]
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
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THE FALL OF CONSTANTINOPLE.
 1. 
CANTO THE FIRST.
  
[section]
 3. 
CANTO THE THIRD.
 4. 
CANTO THE FOURTH.
  
[section]
 6. 
CANTO THE SIXTH.
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MISCELLANEOUS VERSE; SERIOUS AND LUDICROUS.
  
THE FOURTH OF MARCH.
  
THE SNOWDROPS.
  
RURAL SCENERY.
  
THE HORTICULTURAL BARD.
  
THE OLD CORYCIAN HORTICULTURIST.
  
THE LONGING LADY.
  
THE FLORA BALL.
  
A FRAGMENT.
  
THE RILL LOST IN A THICKET.
  
A GOOD CONSCIENCE.
  
To Dr. DARWIN.
  
To J. W. CROKER, Esq.
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SONNETS To a person threatening to shoot the wood pigeons at Polwhele.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
  
A CORNISH INCIDENT.
  
TO A LADY,
  
A LESSON
  
THE DEAN; OR SNUFF-COURTSHIP.
  
Hogg succeeded Cardew, and Dr. Ryall, Hogg, as master of Truro Grammar School.
  
LANDEUWEDNAC.
  
BEDLAM BROKE LOOSE.
  
DIE OF THE DOCTOR.
  
THE DOCTOR TURNED PATIENT.
  
BEERSHOPS.
  
THE SONNET OUT OF JOINT.
  
STATUES IN VOGUE.
  
ON AN IMPUDENT BULL OF O'CONNELL.
  
KARNBRE.
  
EPITAPH ON TWO FAITHFUL DOGS,
  
ON HEARING AN ASS BRAY.
  
THE DEFUNCT CORPORATION.
  
NOT DEAD BUT DYING.
  
Oct. 1835.

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SCENE III.

The Queen's Cabinet.
Queen Serinda. Amanda Rayer, the Brahman, her Counsellor.
Ser.
Say—
Is Saib on the march? Who warn'd the prince
Of this impending danger? Were our heralds
Charg'd with the tale of fleets from northern regions,
Fleets bearing on their wings the sons of giants?
And was he told, that girt with swords of flame,
And cased with adamant, each warrior tower'd
A champion of St. Thomas?

Aman.
If we read
The auguries of the skies aright, Prince Saib
38

Encircled by a numerous host, draws near.

Ser.
And hath thy secret messenger been taught
To set forth Theodora's ripening charms,
Her brilliant beauty, to reward the achievement,
When he shall rise, terrific, on the ruins
Of Syrian churches?

Aman.
Rather to our fanes,
Aye, rather, when Prince Saib shall restore
Their still mysterious gloom, their deep repose!

Ser.
Such, such is thy eternal cant. The picture
Of tranquil votaries may perhaps amuse thee,
And win thy fancy to its placid features—
But the dread Deity that hush'd our temples
Far off retires, whilst in each avenue
Those licens'd scoffers of St. Thomas, jostle
The mild Gentoo! Go—bid the Nazarite
Eschew his vanities, give up his baubles,
His precious stones and garments! Go, reduce
The Prelate to his pristine simple state,—
To saintlike self-abasement! Then observe
His flock—go number them! The Cross, perchance,
(Erected kindly, to refresh, to heal
The fainting multitudes that press around it,)
Hath virtues to evaporate all in air!

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