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Poems (1806)

Polwhele, Richard (1760-1838)

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VOL. I
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Elegiac Pieces.
  
TO A GENTLEMAN, WHO SHED TEARS IN COMPANY ON THE INTELLIGENCE THAT A FRIEND HAD DIED AT SEA OF A FRENZY FEVER.
  
LAURA's RINGLET.
  
IN MEMORY OF THE LATE Mr. RACK, OF BATH.
  
IN MEMORY OF THE LATE Mr. SLEECH, ARCHDEACON OF CORNWALL.
  
IN MEMORY OF THE LATE Mrs. DOBSON, OF EXETER.
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VOL. II.
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LYRIC PIECES.
  
ODE TO SLEEP,
  
ODE ON THE ISLE OF MANN,
  
ODE WRITTEN AFTER A THUNDER-STORM.
  
ODE WRITTEN IN A PICTURE-GALLERY.
  
PART OF THE EPICEDIUM OF REGNER LODBROG, TRANSLATED.
  
ODE ON THE SUSCEPTIBILITY OF THE POETICAL MIND.
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HEROIC PIECES.
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CLAUDIAN's RAPE of PROSERPINE.
 1. 
BOOK THE FIRST.
 2. 
BOOK THE SECOND.
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ADDRESSES.
  
AN ADDRESS, INTRODUCTORY OF Mrs. SIDDONS,
  
AN ADDRESS, SPOKEN BY Mrs. SIDDONS,
  
A POETICAL ADDRESS TO A WIDOW LADY, OVER A DISH OF TEA IN HER HERMITAGE.
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SONNETS.
 I. 
SONNET I.
 II. 
SONNET II.
 III. 
SONNET III.
 IV. 
SONNET IV.
 V. 
SONNET V.
 VI. 
SONNET VI.
 VII. 
SONNET VII. TO A YOUNG LADY, ON HER WEARING A VEIL,
 VIII. 
SONNET VIII. TO A COLLEGE FRIEND; ON HIS EXPRESSING HIS APPREHENSIONS, THAT THE AUTHOR HAD FORGOTTEN HIM.
 X. 
SONNET X. TO THE SAME. [A COLLEGE FRIEND]
 XI. 
SONNET XI. TO THE SAME. [A COLLEGE FRIEND]
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SONGS.
 I. 
SONG I.
 II. 
SONG II.
 III. 
SONG III. THE BLUSH OF SIMPLICITY.
 IV. 
SONG IV. THE FAINTING KISS.
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SONG V.
 VI. 
SONG VI.
 VIII. 
SONG VIII. To Miss S*****.
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EPITAPHS.
  
ON THOMAS POLWHELE, Esq; LATE OF POLWHELE, BY THE REVEREND J. B. C. OF GLYNN.
  
ON TWO CHILDREN OF R. POLWHELE, BURIED IN THE SAME GRAVE,
  
LINES TO THE MEMORY OF BRIGADIER GENERAL HOPE, GOVERNOR OF QUEBEC,

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194

SONNET II.

[O Circle, whether erst the lightning's lance]

O Circle, whether erst the lightning's lance
With its keen azure shot thy wavy way;
Or—such the tales of village maidens, say—
The merry Fayes (what time their troops advance
To thread the fleeting mazes of the dance,
While bends dim Iris in the lunar ray)
Form'd, as they tripp'd with many a twinkling glance,
Thy ring, to speak their revels to the day;
Still fancying, lovely Circle, that I trace
Amid the features of thy fading dyes,
The little footsteps of the faery race—
Still, 'round the springing verdure, shall arise
In soft relief, thy gently-curving grace—
Too trivial but for fond poetic eyes!
P.
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