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University of Virginia Library

Select poems of Edward Hovel Thurlow

Lord Thurlow

Thurlow, Edward Hovell-Thurlow (1781-1829)

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VERSES, IN ALL HUMILITY DEDICATED TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS The Prince Regent.

THE SECOND ELEGY OF The Fourth Book of Tibullus.

SONNET, ON BEHOLDING THE PORTRAITURE OF SIR PHILIP SIDNEY, IN THE GALLERY AT PENSHURST.

SONNET, ON THE DIVINE AND NEVER ENDING MEMORY OF SIR PHILIP SIDNEY .

SONG. To the Rose.

SONNET. To Phœbus.

A SONG, IN APRIL.

A SONG, To the River Avon.

1.

A SONG OF THE SEA-FAIRIES.

2.

A SECOND SONG OF THE SEA-FAIRIES.

TO THE MARQUESS OF HASTINGS:

AN EPIGRAM OF ANTIPATER OF SIDON

FROM THE GREEK OF ANACREON.

SONNET, ON THE EXCELLENT POET, SHAKSPEARE.

SONNET, ON THE SAME.

THE PRAISE OF PINDAR, AND THEN OF AUGUSTUS CÆSAR

THE SUN-FLOWER.

EPIGRAM; FROM THE GREEK: In the Seventh Book of the Anthologia.

TO THE EARL OF ASHBURNHAM .

TO THE EARL SPENCER,

TO THE MARQUESS OF HASTINGS,

TO THE FOUNTAIN BANDUSIA.

TO A BELOVED FRIEND.

ON BEHOLDING BODIAM CASTLE,

TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ.

SONNET, ON READING THE INDUCTION TO THE MIRROR OF MAGISTRATES, WHEREIN THE POET, LED BY SORROW, DESCENDS TO HELL.

SONNET, WHEN TRAVELLING, IN THE EVENING.

ON THE SAME EVENING, PASSING NEAR HASTINGS.

ON THE SAME EVENING.

THE DIALOGUE OF HORACE AND LYDIA.

SONG, IN ANGELICA.

LINES, COMPOSED, WHEN TRAVELLING FROM THE SEA-SIDE.

TO THE RIVER THAMES.

THE RITES, Had at the Burning of Arcita, of Thebes.

SONNET, WRITTEN ON THE LAST DAY OF SUMMER.

ON THE POEM OF MR. ROGERS, ENTITLED “AN EPISTLE TO A FRIEND.”

SONNET, IN SPRING.

SONNET, TO A BIRD, THAT HAUNTED THE WATERS OF LACKEN, IN THE WINTER.

THE ODES OF ANACREON, OF TEOS;

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VERSES, IN ALL HUMILITY DEDICATED TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS The Prince Regent.

As when the burning Majesty of Day
The golden-hoofed steeds doth speed away
To reach the summit of the Eastern hill;
(And sweet expectance all the World doth fill;)

With all his gorgeous company of Clouds
(Wherein sometimes his awful face he shrouds),
Of amber, and of gold, he marcheth on,
And the pure Angels sing before his throne;

Beneath his feet the beams of Morning play;
Before him the immortal Seasons stray;
And, looking down from that thrice sacred height,
He fills the boundless kingdoms with his light:

6

So You, great Sir, if fitly we design
The kingly glory by a type divine,
Like that exalted Shepherd , on his way,
Disperse our darkness, and restore our day:

The tears, which we have shed, no more shall flow;
Your beauteous rising in our hearts shall glow;
And hymns of praise, as we behold your light,
Shall warble from the bosom of the night!

Apollo, or the Sun.