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The poetical works of Henry Kirke White

White, Henry Kirke (1785-1806)

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DEDICATION.
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MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
  
CLIFTON GROVE.
  
TIME,
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CHILDHOOD.
 I. 
PART I.
 II. 
PART II.
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THE CHRISTIAD.
 I. 
BOOK I.
 II. 
BOOK II.
  
LINES WRITTEN ON A SURVEY OF THE HEAVENS,
  
LINES SUPPOSED TO BE SPOKEN BY A LOVER AT THE GRAVE OF HIS MISTRESS.
  
MY STUDY.
  
DESCRIPTION OF A SUMMER'S EVE.
  
TO THE RIGHT HON. THE COUNTESS OF DERBY.
  
LINES
  
WRITTEN IN THE PROSPECT OF DEATH.
  
VERSES.
  
FRAGMENT.
  
FRAGMENT.
  
TO A FRIEND IN DISTRESS,
  
CHRISTMAS DAY. 1804.
  
NELSONI MORS.
  
EPIGRAM ON ROBERT BLOOMFIELD.
  
ELEGY
  
INSCRIPTION FOR A MONUMENT TO THE MEMORY OF COWPER.
  
“I'M PLEASED, AND YET I'M SAD.”
  
SOLITUDE.
  
[If far from me the Fates remove]
  
[Fanny! upon thy breast I may not lie!]
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FRAGMENTS.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 IV. 
IV.
 V. 
V.
 VI. 
VI.
 VII. 
VII.
 VIII. 
VIII.
 IX. 
IX.
 X. 
X.
 XI. 
XI.
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FRAGMENT OF AN ECCENTRIC DRAMA.
  
THE DANCE OF THE CONSUMPTIVES.
  
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TO A FRIEND.
  
LINES
  
FRAGMENT.
  
COMMENCEMENT OF A POEM ON DESPAIR.
  
THE EVE OF DEATH.
  
THANATOS.
  
ATHANATOS.
  
MUSIC.
  
ON BEING CONFINED TO SCHOOL ONE PLEASANT MORNING IN SPRING.
  
TO CONTEMPLATION.
  
MY OWN CHARACTER.
  
LINES WRITTEN IN WILFORD CHURCHYARD.
  
VERSES.
  
LINES.
  
THE PROSTITUTE.
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ODES.
  
TO MY LYRE.
  
TO AN EARLY PRIMROSE.
  
TO H. FUSELI, Esq. R. A.
  
TO THE EARL OF CARLISLE, K. G.
  
TO CONTEMPLATION.
  
TO THE GENIUS OF ROMANCE.
  
TO MIDNIGHT.
  
TO THOUGHT.
  
GENIUS.
  
FRAGMENT OF AN ODE TO THE MOON.
  
TO THE MUSE.
  
TO LOVE.
  
ON WHIT-MONDAY.
  
TO THE WIND, AT MIDNIGHT.
  
TO THE HARVEST MOON.
  
TO THE HERB ROSEMARY.
  
TO THE MORNING.
  
ON DISAPPOINTMENT.
  
ON THE DEATH OF DERMODY THE POET.
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SONNETS.
 I. 
I. TO THE RIVER TRENT.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III. SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN ADDRESSED BY A FEMALE LUNATIC TO A LADY.
 IV. 
IV. SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN BY THE UNHAPPY POET DERMODY IN A STORM, WHILE ON BOARD A SHIP IN HIS MAJESTY'S SERVICE.
 V. 
V. THE WINTER TRAVELLER.
  
[BY CAPEL LOFFT, ESQ.
 VI. 
VI. RECANTATORY, IN REPLY TO THE FOREGOING ELEGANT ADMONITION.
 VII. 
VII. ON HEARING THE SOUNDS OF AN ÆOLIAN HARP.
 VIII. 
VIII.
 IX. 
IX. TO CAPEL LOFFT, ESQ.
 X. 
X. TO THE MOON.
 XI. 
XI. WRITTEN AT THE GRAVE OF A FRIEND.
 XII. 
XII. TO MISFORTUNE.
 XIII. 
XIII.
 XIV. 
XIV. TO APRIL.
 XV. 
XV.
 XVI. 
XVI. TO A TAPER.
 XVII. 
XVII. TO MY MOTHER.
 XVIII. 
XVIII.
 XIX. 
XIX. TO CONSUMPTION.
 XX. 
XX.
 XXI. 
XXI.
 XXII. 
XXII.
 XXIII. 
XXIII.
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BALLADS AND SONGS.
  
GONDOLINE.
  
A BALLAD.
  
THE LULLABY OF A FEMALE CONVICT TO HER CHILD, THE NIGHT PREVIOUS TO EXECUTION.
  
THE SAVOYARD'S RETURN.
  
A PASTORAL SONG.
  
MELODY.
  
SONG.
  
THE WANDERING BOY.
  
CANZONET.
  
SONG.
  
THE SHIPWRECKED SOLITARY'S SONG TO THE NIGHT.
  
THE WONDERFUL JUGGLER.

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TO THE HARVEST MOON.

Cum ruit imbriferum ver:
Spicea jam campis cum messis inhorruit, et cum
Frumenta in viridi stipula lactentia turgent. [OMITTED]
Cuncta tibi Cererem pubes agrestis adoret.
VIRGIL.

Moon of Harvest, herald mild
Of plenty, rustic labour's child,
Hail! oh hail! I greet thy beam,
As soft it trembles o'er the stream,
And gilds the straw-thatched hamlet wide,
Where Innocence and Peace reside!
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'Tis thou that gladd'st with joy the rustic throng,
Promptest the tripping dance, the exhilarating song.
Moon of Harvest, I do love
O'er the uplands now to rove,
While thy modest ray serene
Gilds the wide surrounding scene;
And to watch thee riding high
In the blue vault of the sky,
Where no thin vapour intercepts thy ray,
But in unclouded majesty thou walkest on thy way.
Pleasing 'tis, oh! modest Moon
Now the night is at her noon,
'Neath thy sway to musing lie,
While around the zephyrs sigh,
Fanning soft the sun-tanned wheat,
Ripened by the summer's heat;
Picturing all the rustic's joy
When boundless plenty greets his eye,
And thinking soon,
Oh, modest Moon!
How many a female eye will roam
Along the road,
To see the load,
The last dear load of harvest home.
Storms and tempests, floods and rains,
Stern despoilers of the plains,
Hence, away, the season flee,
Foes to light-heart jollity:
May no winds careering high
Drive the clouds along the sky,
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But may all nature smile with aspect boon,
When in the heavens thou show'st thy face, oh Harvest Moon!
'Neath yon lowly roof he lies,
The husbandman, with sleep-sealed eyes;
He dreams of crowded barns, and round
The yard he hears the flail resound;
Oh! may no hurricane destroy
His visionary views of joy!
God of the winds! oh, hear his humble prayer,
And while the Moon of Harvest shines, thy blustering whirlwind spare.
Sons of luxury, to you
Leave I sleep's dull power to woo;
Press ye still the downy bed,
While feverish dreams surround your head;
I will seek the woodland glade,
Penetrate the thickest shade,
Wrapped in Contemplation's dreams,
Musing high on holy themes,
While on the gale
Shall softly sail
The nightingale's enchanting tune,
And oft my eyes
Shall grateful rise
To thee, the modest Harvest Moon!
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