134 135 promise of sunshine, not so prone to fail. TO CAPEL LOFFT ESQ. H. K. WHITE OFFT, unto thee one tributary song the simple Muse, admiring, fain would bring; she longs to lisp thee to the listening throng, and with thy name to bid the woodlands ring. Fain would she blazon all thy virtues forth, thy warm philanthropy, thy justice mild, would say how thou didst foster kindred worth, and to thy bosom snatched Misfortune's child: firm she would paint thee, with becoming zeal, upright and learned as the Pylian sire, would say how sweetly thou couldst sweep the lyre, and show thy labours for the public weal, ten thousand virtues tell with joys supreme, but ah! she shrinks abashed before the arduous theme. H. K. WHITE SW TO CONSUMPTION 'WEET to the gay of heart is Summer's smile, sweet the wild music of the laughing Spring; but ah! my soul far other scenes beguile, where gloomy storms their sullen shadows fling. and melancholy wastes the vital fire? Away with thoughts like these!-To some lone cave where howls the shrill blast and where sweeps the wave, direct my steps; there, in the lonely drear, I'll sit remote from worldly noise and muse, till through my soul shall Peace her balm infuse, and whisper sounds of comfort in my ear. F. S. II. H. K. WHITE 4 136 W THE PAINS OF MEMORY HAT time my heart unfolded its fresh leaves in spring-time gay, and scattered flowers around, a whisper warned of earth's unhealthy ground, and all that there faith's light and pureness grieves; sun's ray and canker-worm, and sudden-whelming storm:— but, ah! my self-will smiled, nor recked the gracious sound. So now defilement dims life's morning springs; I cannot hear an early-cherished strain, not without hope, this breast may one day lose its load, and youth yet bloom again. 137 138 LYRA APOSTOLICA HOPE N with quivering ray the silent glen pervades, OW sober Cynthia spreads her lucid beam, tints the brown wood that crowns yon silvery stream, 'tis thus, sweet Hope! through sorrow's blasting day give to departing joy a lingering ray and cheer with promised good the drooping heart; with radiant hands life's sable clouds remove, and ere the future dawns its blessings prove. WHY TO DEATH HY art thou slow, thou rest of trouble, Death, to stop a wretch's breath, that calls on thee and offers her sad heart a prey unto thy dart? 139 140 I am nor young nor fair; be, therefore, bold: deformed and wrinkled; all that I can crave Such as live happy hold long life a jewel; if thou end not my tedious misery; Strike, and strike home, then: pity unto me, P. MASSINGER AD SEIPSVM DE ADVENTV HYEMIS UMMER'S last lingering rose is flown, She lear has withered from the tree; I hear the coming winter moan through the sad forest sullenly. The north wind's rage soft Zephyr flies; Then quit we too the rural plain; till spring, with coronal so gay, Farewell ye flowers, ye streams, and thou I go-but leave my spirit here. F. WRANGHAM TO VIOLETS WELCOME, maids of Honour, you do bring in the spring; and wait upon her. She has Virgins many, yet you are more sweet than any. Ye are the maiden posies, to be plac'd 'fore damask roses. Yet though thus respected, by and by ye do lie, poor girls, neglected. R. HERRICK 141 142 AND THE RULE OF LOVE ND said I that my limbs were old; and that I might not sing of love?— in hamlets, dances on the green. OF THE SEA SIR W. SCOTT FOR to the Sea that fleets about the land, and like a girdle clips her solid waist, Sometimes his proud green waves in order set, and to make known his courtly love the more, 143 HARK! whence that rushing sound? 'tis like the wondrous strain that round a lonely ruin swells, which, wandering on the echoing shore, those lines of rainbow light are like the moonbeams when they fall P. B. SHELLEY 144 145 NOR A NIGHT-PIECE ON DEATH of woe; OR can the parted body know, TO ENGLAND NOT yet enslaved, not wholly vile, Albion! O my mother isle! thy valleys, fair as Eden's bowers, T. PARNELL |