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Original, serious, and religious poetry

by the Rev. Richard Cobbold
Cobbold, Richard (1797-1877)

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CHARITY.
 I. 
REFLECTION I.
 II. 
REFLECTION II.
 III. 
REFLECTION III.
 IV. 
REFLECTION IV.
 V. 
REFLECTION V.
 VI. 
REFLECTION VI.
  
LINES WRITTEN IMPROMTU IN FOX'S BOOK OF THE MARTYRS.
 VII. 
REFLECTION VII.
  
LINES WRITTEN TO SIR JOHN WHITEFOORD'S FAMILY, ON THE EVE OF THEIR DEPARTURE FROM IPSWICH.
 VIII. 
REFLECTION VIII.
 IX. 
REFLECTION IX.
 X. 
REFLECTION X.
 XI. 
REFLECTION XI.
  
TRUTH.
 XII. 
REFLECTION XII.
  
FOR RAIN.
  
RETURN FOR RAIN.
 XIII. 
REFLECTION XIII.
 XIV. 
REFLECTION XIV.
  
TO LOVERS.
 XV. 
REFLECTION XV.
 XVI. 
REFLECTION XVI.
  
VIRTUE.
 XVII. 
REFLECTION XVII.
  
RETURNING HEALTH; LINES ADDRESSED TO MR. B---T.
  
TO THE GOOD.
  
TO THE UNFORGIVING.
  
CHRISTMAS DAY, 1826.
 XVIII. 
REFLECTION XVIII.
  
REFLECTIONS UPON GOING TO REST.
 XIX. 
REFLECTION XIX.
  
FAITH.
  
HELMINGHAM.
  
[Who feels as Christian must acknowledge this]
  
TO THE PENITENT.
  
TO THE IMPENITENT.
  
TO THE WISE MAN.
  
TO THE INFIDEL.
  
THE RIDE.
  
ORWELL,
  
TO THE DISAPPOINTED.
  
TO THE MARRIED.
  
LOVE.
  
LINES WRITTEN IN MY BIBLE.
  
A MEMORABLE EVENING.
  
TO J. C. THE UNKNOWN POET.
  
THE EYE OF AGONY.
  
A MOTHER.
  
MAN.
  
TO MY GOD.
  
TO MY LOVE.
  
TO THE PATIENT CHRISTIAN.
  
TO A PERSON WISHING TO ENTER INTO HOLY ORDERS.
  
TO MY HEART.
  
THE WRETCHED MAN.
 XX. 
REFLECTION XX.
 XXI. 
REFLECTION XXI.
  
REVELATIONS.
  
TO MRS. COLE.
 XXII. 
REFLECTION XXII.
  
TO MY FATHER.
 XXIII. 
REFLECTION XXIII.
  
TO THE INCONSTANT.
 XXIV. 
REFLECTION XXIV.
  
GOOD NIGHT.
  
THE SABBATH.
  
A TRUE NARRATION.
 XXV. 
REFLECTION XXV.
  
SENSATIONS UPON SEEING THE SHUTTERS OF A HOUSE HALF CLOSED.
  
DISTRACTED POETRY.
  
BITTERNESS.
  
THE LAST HOUR OF LOVE.
  
TO THE WICKED.
 XXVI. 
REFLECTION XXVI.
  
ON SEEING MY FATHER AT THE AGE OF EIGHTY-ONE, AN ATTENDANT AT HIS SONS CHURCH.
  
THOUGHTS UPON VIRTUE.
  
HEAVEN.
  
THE CHRISTIAN'S FAREWELL.
  
TO THE PURITAN.
  
DECEMBER 30TH, 1826, CLAYDON CHURCHYARD.
  
TO THE LIBERTINE.
  
ON THE PROSPECT OF LEAVING MY NATIVE TOWN.

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182

DISTRACTED POETRY.

Wild fire running through the sky,
Wilderness of mystery:
Phantom passing quickly by,
Distracted Poet's Poetry.
Sorrow, sadly pouring forth,
Dismay and dreariness: or wrath,
Passion waking strains of woe,
Distracted Poetry can show.
Madness, mildness, heat, and cold,
Fervor, chilliness, to praise, to scold,
To alter, vow, begin, and change,
Are Poetry's distracted range.
183

Music wakes the wildest strains,
Woe distracts a Poet's brains,
Love inspires his heart to write,
And piety to clear his sight.
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