Rhapsodies :: :: University of Virginia Library

Rhapsodies

By W. H. Ireland

Ireland, W. H. (1777-1835)

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TO THE READER.

DEDICATED, By Permission, TO LADY HUNLOKE, OF WINGERWORTH, DERBYSHIRE.

RHAPSODIES.

ANACREONTIC.

EPIGRAM On a gentleman in fear of bailiffs.

LINES Under the statue of Love, by Voltaire.

POOR POLLY, THE MAD GIRL.

A BALLAD.

LINES.

SOLILOQUY OF A GARRETEER.

EPIGRAM On a known fact.

THE LITTLE RED WOMAN,

SONG—POOR JANE.

EXTEMPORE,

LINES By a Poet, to the object of his idolatry.

THE BASTARD.

THE BASTARD's COMPLAINT.

REPLY TO THE BASTARD's COMPLAINT.

TO A FRIEND,

ODE TO CHARITY.

LINES To the departed Spirit of a Parent.

THE WHITE LADY ;

FRAGMENT.

EPIGRAM On a set of bell ringers.

ON THE HEART,

SEA SONG.

LINES On hearing a person maintain that Man might have been formed less vicious.

EPITAPH, Written at the request of a friend, on his much-lamented wife.

LINES On a happy union.

THE ABBEY PORCH, AND MELANCHOLY MAN'S CONTEMPLATION.

BALLAD.

EPIGRAM On a country judge.

BACCHANALIAN:

THE MISTRESS's QUESTION.

THE LOVER's REPLY.

ON THE DEATH OF A FEMALE FRIEND,

LITTLE JOHN;

ON THE OAK IN PENSHURST PARK,

WILLY, THE FORSAKEN SWAIN.

ANACREONTIC.

THE QUESTION RESOLVED.

LINES From Age to Youth.

PARODY.

CUPID AND THE LOVE-SICK MAID.

EMPLOYMENT FOR A MISTRESS AND A WIFE.

FROM THE FRENCH.

CRAZY TOM, THE BEDLAMITE.

TO A MISTRESS.

FRAGMENT.

LINES Addressed to a young couple on the celebration of their nuptials.

LITTLE JANE;

TO AN ABSENT MISTRESS.

PARODY.

A LOVER's KISS.

ADVICE OF FRIENDSHIP.

THE LOVER's REPLY.

PARODY.

PARODY, In answer to the former.

LINES On following a lady with a beautiful turned ancle.

LINES On hearing a young Lady sing the celebrated mad song composed by Purcell.

BALLAD IMITATED.

PARODY.

LINES To a Mistress, who fled every worldly consideration for him she loved.

FROM THE FRENCH OF VOLTAIRE.

ANSWER, In 1802

A BALLAD, OF EDWARD AND ELGIVA, The Nun of St. Agatha.

LINES Addressed to the admirers of aerial excursions;

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167

LINES To a Mistress, who fled every worldly consideration for him she loved.

Ah! could I harbour in my breast
One thought to give thee pain,
I then should stand the wretch confess'd,
And merit thy disdain.

But no; not such the thrilling fire
That sways my panting soul;
'Tis purest love, and soft desire,
My anxious thoughts control.

Great God! how flutters now my heart;
A languor numbs my frame;
My trembling limbs can nought impart
But Rosa's cherish'd name.

168

Now expectation comes in turn;
My blood impetuous flows;
With ecstacy I sigh, I burn,
My cheek with rapture glows.

For me hast thou the world defied,
Its rancour and its sneer;
For love and me forgot thy pride,
And must not I revere?

Oh! yes; while yet the stream of life
Shall animate my clay,
I'll clasp thee as my hallow'd wife,
For Love inspir'd the ray.

No peevish thought, no cool neglect,
My conduct e'er shall stain;
The world shall treat thee with respect,
Or meet my soul's disdain.

By Fate we met—oh! bless the hour
That gave thee to my sight!
From thee I learnt Love's sacred power,
And learn'd to think aright.

169

For could I covet other charms,
And know that form was mine?
What! seek the stranger's lustful arms,
When bless'd with truth and thine?

Oh! perish the detested thought!
'Tis thou alone canst give
That truth with heavenly rapture fraught,
That love for which I live.