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 VII. TO VALCLUSA.

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

What tho', Valclusa, the fond Bard be fled
That woo'd his Fair in thy sequester'd bowers,
Long lov'd her living, long bemoan'd her dead,
And hung her visionary shrine with flowers!
What tho' no more he teach thy shades to mourn,
The hapless chances that to Love belong;
As erst when drooping o'er her turf forlorn,
He charm'd wild Echo with his plaintive song!
Yet still, enamour'd of the tender tale,
Pale Passion haunts thy grove's romantic gloom,
Yet still soft music breathes in every gale,
Still undecay'd the Fairy Garlands bloom,
Still heavenly Incense fills each fragrant vale,
Still Petrarch's Genius weeps o'er Laura's tomb.