British Women Romantic Poets Project

Genuine Poetical Compositions.

Bentley, Elizabeth, 1767-1839


Leigh Rios, -- creation of electronic text.

Electronic edition 150 Kb
British Women Romantic Poets Project
Shields Library, University of California, Davis, California 95616
2002
I.D. No. BentEGenui

Copyright (c) 2002, University of California

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Davis British Women Romantic Poets Series

I.D. No. 99
Nancy Kushigian, -- General Editor
Charlotte Payne, -- Managing Editor


Genuine poetical compositions

Bentley, Elizabeth


Printed by Crouse and Stevenson for the authoress, and may be had of her . . . or of W. Stevenson
Norwich,
1791

[This text was scanned from its original in the Shields Library Kohler Collection, University of California, Davis. Kohler ID no. ISuppl:54. Another copy available on microfilm as Kohler ISuppl:54mf.]


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[Inscription on front flyleaf reads: Jeremiah Ives Norwich 1791
By Gift of the Authoress.]


Page [i]

[Frontispiece]

Title Page
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Miss Buck del. Published as the Act directs Mar 1791 T Bassett sculp.
ELIZABETH BENTLEY:

[Title page]

Title Page
[View Larger Image (47K)]



Page [ii]

Dedicated, by permission to
WM. DRAKE, JUN. ESQ. M. P.

GENUINE
POETICAL COMPOSITIONS,
ON
VARIOUS SUBJECTS.

By

E. BENTLEY.


NORWICH:

PRINTED BY CROUSE AND STEVENSON,
FOR THE AUTHORESS,
AND MAY BE HAD OF HER NEAR THE NORFOLK AND
NORWICH HOSPITAL;
OR OF W. STEVENSON, IN THE MARKET-PLACE. MDCCXCI. [Entered at Stationer's Hall.]
Page [iii]



Page [iv]

SUBSCRIBERS.

[In the original edition, the list was in two columns per page.]


The figures denote the number of copies subscribed for.
A
NORFOLK & SUFFOLK.
NORWICH.
Page [v]


CAMBRIDGE.


NOTTINGHAMSHIRE.
B
Page [vi]


NORFOLK & SUFFOLK.


NORWICH.
CAMBRIDGE.
LONDON &c.
NOTTINGHAMSHIRE.
C
NORFOLK & SUFFOLK.
NORWICH.
CAMBRIDGE, &c.
Page [x]


LONDON, &c.


NOTTS. &c.
D
NORFOLK & SUFFOLK.
NORWICH.
LONDON &c.
NOTTINGHAMSHIRE.
E
NORFOLK & SUFFOLK.
NORWICH.
F
NORFOLK & SUFFOLK.
NORWICH.
CAMBRIDGE, &c.
G
NORFOLK & SUFFOLK.
NORWICH.
H
NORFOLK & SUFFOLK.
NORWICH.
LONDON, &c.
NOTTINGHAMSHIRE.
I & J
NORFOLK & SUFFOLK.
NORWICH.
CAMBRIDGE, &c.
K
NORFOLK, NORWICH, &c.
L
NORFOLK & SUFFOLK.
NORWICH.
LONDON, &c.
CAMBRIDGE.
M
NORFOLK & SUFFOLK.
NORWICH.
LONDON.
CAMBRIDGE, &c.
NOTTS. &c.
N
NORFOLK & SUFFOLK.
NORWICH.
LONDON.
O
P
NORFOLK & SUFFOLK.
NORWICH.
LONDON, &c.
R
NORFOLK & SUFFOLK.
NORWICH.
S
NORFOLK & SUFFOLK.
NORWICH.
NOTTS. &c.
LONDON.
T
Page [xxiv]


NORFOLK & SUFFOLK.


NORWICH.
NOTTS. &c.
U & V
W
NORFOLK & SUFFOLK.
NORWICH.
CAMBRIDGE, &c.
NOTTINGHAMSHIRE.
Y
OMITTED.
ADDITIONAL.

Total of copies subscribed for
1935.

Gratitude requires the Subscribers to this publication should be told, that the profits arising from it will be applied to purchase an Annuity for the Authoress and her Mother.

The few copies of this work not subscribed for, being insufficient to supply those applications which were made since the book went to press, it is intended to publish a SECOND EDITION, for the benefit of the Authoress. Such as wish, therefore, to secure copies, are requested to favor W. STEVENSON with their names and residences as soon as possible; and it is hoped that no one will be offended if he requests the postage of letters to be paid.


Page [xxviii]

TO
WILLIAM DRAKE,

JUN. ESQ. M. P.

These Poems
ARE,
WITH PERMISSION,
DEDICATED,
BY HIS
MOST OBLIGED AND GRATEFUL
HUMBLE SERVANT,
E. BENTLEY.


Page [xxix]


Page [xxx]

PREFACE.

THE candour of the world, and of this country in particular, has seldom failed in patronizing the exertions of superior merit. It is true, indeed, that accidental circumstances may have occasionally impeded the Progress of Genius, and, for a time, with-held the rewards which are its due. The peculiar character too of many Writers of distinguished ability has contributed, more, perhaps, than the ingratitude or ill taste of the times, to that neglect which has so grievously been complained of, as annihilating all the ardor and expectation of elevated imagination. The world, at least, ought not to be blamed for a want of attention, which, in fact, was no more than an inattention in Authors to themselves.

The Editor has ventured to hazard the preceding observations from a review of the very numerous and respectable list of Subscribers to the following Poems. Charity, it is true, had her feelings an the occasion; but Charity was also prompted by Taste to patronize produc-


Page [xxxi]

tions, which, it is presumed, are original in this respect--possessing not only the strong, bold outline of Genius, but likewise the pure, mellow colouring of Art; yet, both of them uncultivated and unassisted.

Elizabeth Bentley had no education; she read only by accident; but from the moment she did read, she felt in herself a power of imitation, and a faculty of combining imagery, together with a facility of poetical expression, which, with adequate advantages, would have placed her in a situation little inferior to the first in Lyric composition.

Let us mention, in particular, the Ode to Chearfulness; the Ode to Content has already been printed, but it was selected not merely as the best effort of her pen.

It is, perhaps, anticipating the task of the good-natured Critic, but the Writer of the preface cannot refrain from quoting these stanzas, as particularly impressive:----

        Or grant me oft the temp'rate bliss,
            With thee to pass the silent hour
        (To changeful Fortune's frown submiss)
            In calm Retirement's shady bow'r;
Or with thy peaceful family to dwell,
In some sequester'd cell.


Page [xxxii]

        Where Health is found with ruddy brow,
             And Meekness flies the voice of Fame;
        And Contemplation feels the glow
            Of pure Devotion's hallow'd flame;
And radiant Hope, who darts her eagle eye
To scenes beyond the sky.

The intelligent Reader will easily guess why the two lines in the last stanza are printed in Italics; there are various other lines to be met with which have the same felicity of conception and expression, and need not be pointed out, but which the Reader of imagination and sentiment will immediately recognize. May the Editor be forgiven in bringing forward only one more passage, which has a peculiar relation to himself, the poem being written on a circumstance of distress in his family:----

Still shall the pensive Fancy dwell
        On what was late so dear,
And fond Remembrance oft impel
         The sad maternal tear.

I shall be forgiven if mistake, but surely there is a simplicity, force, and melody in these words which must be felt.


Page [xxxiii]

The Poems before us have, however, their "Flats," to borrow an expression of Dryden's: but let the Critic consider, that no production of any Author was ever uniformly excellent, and that some of these pieces are occasional and temporary; there are also certain intensions and remissions of thought and imagination which must of necessity vary the energies of the mind; and, after all, it may safely be asserted, that no Writer under the same disadvantages was ever less unequal. In general, Authors of this class have but a few brilliant passages to compensate for many a dreary page; it is not so with E. Bentley. To the Philosopher of the human mind it may be curious to trace the progress of her fancy, and the growing power of her expression. This is not a place for such an investigation: it may, nevertheless, be transitorily remarked, that the Poems in ten-syllable verse are prosaic, compared with those of a more varied and free measure; and the first superior exertion if her Muse is when she bids it "expand thy gentle wing," in the Ode on a Summer Morning.

An apology is, perhaps, due to the Reader for thus trespassing on his attention, and anticipating his own observations: but those Gentlemen of taste and fortune who have been the liberal patrons of E. Bentley, deemed some introduction not altogether unnecessary; and they have been


Page [xxxiv]

comprized in a narrow compass, the Writer of them by no means wishing to obtrude his own opinions on others, or ostentatiously to enlarge upon them. He concludes, notwithstanding, with being firm in the hope, that the candid Critic will agree with him, that the Authoress, who is not less respectable for her modest virtues than her superior abilities, has some claim to the Choir, and is not the last or meanest in the train who "Follow where seraphic Milton led* ."
*See page 68.
POSTSCRIPT.

IT is thought proper to add the simple account of herself, as written by E. Bentley.--It may be necessary also to assure the Reader, that the following Poems are the genuine and sole productions of her pen.


Page [xxxv]

To
The Rev. Mr WALKER, in NORWICH.

REVEREND SIR,

IN compliance with your request, I write the few particulars of my life, which are as follow:--I was born at Norwich, in the parish of All Saints, in November, 1767, and was the only child of my parents. My father's name was Daniel Bentley, by trade a journey-man cordwainer; who, having received a good education himself, took upon him to teach me reading and spelling, but never gave me the least idea of grammar. Being naturally fond of reading, I used to employ my leisure hours with such books as were in the house; which were chiefly a spelling-book, fable-book, dictionary, and books of arithmetic; and with such little pamphlets as I could borrow of my neighbours. When I was about ten years of age, my father was afflicted with a paralytic stroke, which took from him the use of one side, and disabled him from working at his business; but still retaining the use of his right hand, and his disorder not affecting his mental faculties, he taught me the art of writing, from copies in the spelling-book. My father was now obliged to go about felling garden-stuff for a living, till (a few months before his death)


Page [xxxvi]

he obtained the place of book-keeper to the London Coach, which then set out from the King's Head, in the Market-Place. His lameness continued till his decease, which happened by a second stroke of the same disorder, on the 25th of January, 1783, in the 48th year of his age; I being then about fifteen years old. My father died in the parish of St. Stephen, in which place my mother and I have continued ever since. About two years after my father's death, I discovered in myself an inclination for writing verses, which I had no thought nor desire of being seen; but my mother shewing my first productions to some acquaintances, they encouraged me to proceed. Soon after I purchased a small grammar-book, second-hand, from which I attained the art of expressing myself correctly in my native language. My mother's maiden name was Lawrence, her father, when living, kept a cooper's shop in St. Stephen's parish.

This, Sir, is the short history of my life; from which you will be pleased to select such passages as you may judge proper for the information of the public. I remain, with gratitude and respect,
Your obliged servant,
ELIZABETH BENTLEY.
July 23, 1790.


Page [xxxvii]

ERRATA.



Page [1]

POEMS.

ON VIRTUE. 1785.

LET others sing, in soft, harmonious strain,
The praise of Vice, and all her abject train;
Or to pert Folly's whim devote the lyre,
O, let me to some nobler theme aspire!
Tho' mean my verse, at Virtue's shrine I bend,
Ye tuneful Nine, your kinder influence lend.
Virtue, thou fair celestial of the skies!
Why should mankind thy genuine worth despise?
Why should thy matchless graces ever be
Condemn'd a sacrifice to Vanity?
Of the bright Deity thou purest ray,
O! may I never from thy precepts stray;


Page 2

But thro' Life's transient span thy paths pursue,
And strictly keep thy glories in my view.
Then may I hope, when there short scenes are past,
To rise with transport to thy realms at last!

ON READING MR. POPE's POEMS. 1786.

GREAT Pope! was ever verse compar'd with thine?
Did ever genius so conspicuous shine?
In ev'ry page sublime, throughout the whole
Thou hast display'd a great and noble soul;
With native elegance express'd each thought,
And poetry to full perfection brought.
To praise thy sense and judgment, heav'nly Bard!
It is for my poor pen a task too hard.
Ages unborn shall pay the debt of fame
Due to thy works and thy illustrious name.


Page 3

ON A SUMMER MORNING. 1786.

AWAKE! my muse, expand thy gentle wing,
    And in thy flight the Morn's bright beauties scan;
Nor e'er forget in grateful lay to sing,
    Great Nature's God how bountiful to man.

The rising sun (whole dew-dispelling beams
    To ev'ry plant and flow'r fresh beauties lend)
With sparkling lustre gilds those murm'ring streams
    O'er which the trees in graceful foliage bend.

The birds their nests forsake with anxious speed,
    To spend the day in innocence and love;
With tender care the unfledg'd brood to feed,
    And fill with music's charms the neighb'ring grove,

Man to his daily labour takes his way,
    With sweet contented face and healthful brow;
That health and peace can all his toils repay,
    Which exercise and temperance bestow.


Page 4

These are the pleasing scenes of rural life,
    These the blest joys the country e'er displays;
Who would not wish, remov'd from noise and strife,
    Amid such scenes to spend their tranquil days.

Come then, my friends, quit, quit the bustling town,
    Where bury, anxious care your bliss destroys;
And if your days with happiness you'd crown,
    With eager steps pursue the country's joys.

ON A WINTER EVENING. 1786.

CLAD in a fog, dim Evening draws around,
    Adieu, thou cold, short space, a winter's day;
Now chilling damp o'erspreads the fertile ground,
    No longer chear'd by Sol's enliv'ning ray.

The toil-worn peasant gladly quits the plain,
    With weary step, he seeks his peaceful home;
Where guiltless mirth and social pleasures reign,
    Where pride and discontent shall never come.


Page 5

The harmless feather'd tribe no more I see,
    Each to his rest has wing'd his speedy way;
Save where brisk Robin, on some leafless tree,
    Tunes a sweet carol to departing day.

Both man and beast from night's approach withdrawn,
    The sad'ning prospect darkens on the eye;
Silence almost profound reigns o'er the lawn,
    And, unperceiv'd, draws from the breast a sigh.

Yet may the mind unrack'd with doubts and fears,
    With cares unruffled, peaceful and serene;
Though nature her most dismal aspect wears,
    Still look with pleasure, on the gloomy scene.

Not so the soul oppress'd with shame or grief,
    Not so the man whom guilty thoughts affright;
He draws from nature's beauties no relief,
    He feels new horrors from the darksome night.


Page 6

ON HEALTH AND LIBERTY. 1787.

    WHAT are the choicest blessings heav'n bestows?
Or mortal man through life's short journey knows?
Sure Health and Liberty combin'd may form
That lasting pleasure which the heart can warm.
Depriv'd of Health, what object gives delight?

[This and the following two lines are connected by a large brace in the right margin of the original printed edition.]


What melody can charm the ear aright?
Or what enchanting prospects please the sight?
Nor pow'r nor titles can the heart elate,
Nor all the gaudy pageantry of state;
Pleasures nor wealth can yield a moment's joy,
The want of Health each pleasure will destroy.
Depriv'd of Freedom, not e'en Health's bright ray
Can give us ease, or chace our gloom away.
'Mur'd in a dungeon, see, the captive lies,
Rending the dismal wails with fruitless cries;
What's Health, what's life to him, his Freedom lost,
His heart's best hopes by luckless fortune crost?
Or view the wretch from Afric's sultry clime,
Who's doom'd in slavery to pass his time;

Page 7

Doom'd throughout life to one continu'd thrall,
With not a moment he his own can call;
Nor happiness is his, nor social joys,
The want of Liberty each bliss destroys.
Detested Slavery! thou foe to peace,
Soon may thy pow'r in ev'ry region cease!
Then since to Health and Liberty, when join'd,
We owe each feeling that delights the mind;
Since from their source content and pleasure flow,
With ev'ry bliss we in this life can know;
If either's lost, no social joys we share,
These to preserve be our unceasing care.
The first by exercise is best procur'd,
By industry and temperance insur'd;
As to the last, in fair Britannia's isle,
Where bright-ey'd Freedom does for ever smile,
Nought can the want of this great blessing cause,
Unless we disobey our country's laws.
Then ye who seek true peace in this short span,
Would you be blest as far as mortals can;
And would you Health and Liberty posses,
Lead temp'rate lives, and ne'er the laws transgress.


Page 8

AGAINST PRIDE. 1787.

    PRIDE's the chief source of every human woe,
To social happiness the greatest foe;
'Mongst various passions which the mind enthrall,
Pride is the least excusable of all.
In what dost thou thy fellow-men excel,

[This and the following two lines are connected by a large brace in the right margin of the original printed edition.]


(Whoe'er thou art, vain-glorious mortal, tell)
That thus with arrogance thy mind should swell?
Art thou the offspring of some noble race,
That e'en from monarchs their descent can trace?
Yet stop not here, and room for Pride pretend,
But backward still th' unweary'd search extend;
'Till thou for all one common parent find--
Adam, the great forefather of mankind.
From the same earth all human beings rose,
To the same dust return when life shall close.
The same all-wise Creator gave each soul
It's pow'rs of life, and doth those pow'rs controul.
And at that awful, great, decisive hour,
When vain distinctions shall be known no more;

Page 9

When virtue only shall regarded be,
The spotless mind grac'd with humility;
Then the poor vassal equally shall shine
With those descended from the noblest line.
Or if thou hast some recent honors gain'd,
Let not thy dignity with Pride be stain'd;
For worldly honor's but a transient joy,
A monarch's frown may all thy hopes destroy;
To-day may view thee tow'ring to the skies,
To-morrow find thee fall'n, no more to rise;
For if to honor's highest pitch thou soar,
Th' exalted height but makes the danger more.
Exult not, though thou India's treasures share,
Think what precarious blessings riches are;
Much wealth, when hoarded up, much care will bring,
From which, dispers'd, might many a blessing spring.
Beauty, which sickness may, and age must fade,
Should that a source of vanity be made?
Or canst thou more than vulgar knowledge boast?
('Tis a mere nothing we can know at most)
Reflect how small the knowledge man can gain,
While wrapp'd in clay his spirit doth remain;
Compar'd with heav'nly beings more refin'd,
Darkness must still pervade the brightest mind:


Page 10

But when remov'd from this terestrial ball,
All things shall be alike reveal'd to all;
Equal in knowledge as in bliss divine,
Bright truth to every eye shall cloudless shine;
All that our thoughts can fathom here below,
Is ignorance to what we then shall know.
Pride is a passion not for man design'd,
Whose greater ornament's an humble mind.
Behold the man of high, disdainful mien,
With haughty, supercilious brow he's seen;
His ev'ry look his want of sense betrays,
Shews a base mind, and arrogance displays.
Reverse the picture, view the man of sense,
He to distinction makes no vain pretence;
Only too proud to do an act that's base,
He stands an ornament to human race.
Behold the contrast, each vain thought remove,
Copy the portrait thou may'st best approve.
In thy own manners; to whate'er thou'rt born,
An humble mind each station will adorn.


Page 11

ON THE BILL FOR PREVENTING THE EXPORTATION OF BRITISH WOOL. 1788.

    BRITONS! rejoice at your approaching fame,
Now haughty France shall shudder at your name;
Your antient grandeur soon restor'd you'll find,
With commerce 'tis inseparably join'd.
In future records of this happy land,
Unmatch'd shall that illustrious æra stand;
When Britain's Senate, fir'd with noblest zeal,
Stood forth and acted for their country's weal;
And gave her sons alone the pow'r to hold
Their snowy Fleece, more worth than mines of gold:
The Fleece, their nat'ral right, their greatest boast,
Their strength, by neighb'ring kingdoms envy'd most;
From this fam'd period future times shall know
Those matchless blessings which from commerce flow.
Old England with its antient splendor grac'd,
The great, unequall'd day shall back be trac'd,
Which gain'd the cause; and each true patriot's name
Shall stand recorded in the book of fame;


Page 12

Who bravely dar'd to crush their Gallic foes,
And save their country from unnumber'd woes.
Now old Norvicum's sons once more shall hear
The sweet, harmonious sounds of joy sincere;
Peace in her walls, and commerce shall endure,
Her Fleece protected, and her trade secure.
The city shall with all its lustre shine,
Th' industr'ous indigent no more shall pine;
Justice and truth their native rights shall guard,
And golden plenty all their toils reward.

ON HIS MAJESTY's HAPPY RECOVERY.

MARCH, 1789.

BRITANNIA's sons, once more rejoice,
    Let jocund mirth your cares dispel;
Be it proclaim'd with cheerful voice,
    Each tongue the glad'ning tidings tell.


Page 13

Your pray'rs are heard, nor heard in vain,
    With gratitude the blessing own;
Behold your King restor'd to reign,
    Once more he fills Britannia's throne.

O Britain! ever-favor'd land,
    Of mighty Heav'n the darling care;
What people shall thy pow'r withstand,
    Or boast thy happiness to share?

That cloud of grief which late appear'd
    In ev'ry faithful subject's face,
No more is seen, nor murmurs heard,
    But universal joy takes place.

Now England's Sov'reign, good as great,
    Once more shall make his people blest;
His care shall all our ills defeat,
    His smile shall raise each wretch distrest.

Proud Faction now shall disappear,
    Fair Peace shall spread her genial wings;
To bless with many a tranquil year,
    The best of patriots and of kings.


Page 14

Hail! Royal Chief of Brunswick's line,
    In whom all princely virtues blend;
Let ev'ry loyal voice combine
    To praise our Monarch and our Friend.

Nor only in these realms ador'd,
    All Europe joins to bless the day
When our great King, to health restor'd;
    Resum'd his mild, his gentle sway.

The lib'ral arts once more shall shine,
    Blest with his kind, protecting care;
Beneath his influence benign,
    Science her drooping head shall rear.

O! may kind fate his life and reign
    Prolong with many a happy day;
Unknown to him be grief and pain,
    May Health her cheering beams display.

Blest in sweet Friendship's joys divine,
    With the fair Partner of his cares;
Whose radiant virtues far outshine
    The gems that deck the crown she wears.


Page 15

Illustrious Pair! long may they see
    Old England in a prosp'rous state;
Their beauteous, blooming Progeny,
    Good, like themselves, belov'd and great.

ODE TO SPRING. MAY, 1789.

WELCOME, sweet season of delight,
What beauties charm the wond'ring sight
        In thy enchanting reign!
How fresh descends the morning dew,
Whilst op'ning flow'rs of various hue
        Bedeck the sprightly plain.

The artless warblers of the grove
Again unite in songs of love,
        To bless thy kind return:
But first the lark, who roaring seems
To hail the orb of day, whose beams
        With fresh refulgence burn.


Page 16

The limpid brook that purls along,
The tuneful blackbird's joyous song,
        The softly-whisp'ring breeze;
The mossy hills, which now invite,
These with the verdant meads unite,
        Th' elated mind to please.

The mind with thoughts of good possest,
With innocence and virtue blest,
        Untaught in vice's ways;
May taste those joys by nature giv'n,
May lift th' enraptur'd eye to heav'n,
        And their great Author praise.

Stern Winter's gloomy season past,
We see fair Spring advances fast,
        With Summer in the rear;
Soon Autumn's shades will interpose,
And a succeeding Winter close
        The swift-revolving year.


Page 17

Of human life an emblem true,
        The early morn of youth we view,
                In Spring's delightful face;
Meridian life's a Summer's day,
With Autumn fades; its quick decay,
        In winter's blast we trace.

Then let us prize each fleeting hour,
Improve the moments in our pow'r,
        E'er time shall cease to be;
Then shall our spirits, taking wing,
Be crown'd with an eternal Spring,
        From Wint'ry storms set free.

ON FRIENDSHIP. JULY, 1789.

    FRIENDSHIP's the greater bliss we mortals share,
It heightens pleasure, softens ev'ry care;
Expands the heart, each thought severe disarms,
And in the mind unfolds ten thousand charms.


Page 18

How high in happiness the prospect stands,
Whene'er in Friendship's strong, yet tender bands,
Two spirits kind in gentle union meet,
The bliss how great, how exquisitely sweet!
Self-love and envy to their souls unknown,
Each has an int'rest dearer than their own;
Their ev'ry joy a brighter aspect wears,
Their ev'ry grief, when told, straight disappears.
Or when, amid the varying turns of fate,
The mind bears some important secret's weight;
On which the life, or life's chief hopes depend,
It rests securely with the faithful friend.
Mutual esteem and love their actions guide,
And truth and justice o'er their hearts preside.
The gen'rous breast which ardent Friendship fires,
Each lib'ral, virtuous sentiment inspires.
Friendship the mind excites to noble deeds,
And to the path of spotless glory leads;
And when its object's worthy of regard,
It will, like Virtue, prove its own reward.


Page 19

ON THE
ABOLITION OF THE AFRICAN SLAVE-TRADE.

JULY, 1789.

    WHAT blest design in Albion's Council moves,
Which earth with pleasure views, and heav'n approves?
'Tis a design humanely just and kind,
Worthy to share each free-born Briton's mind:
Each free-born Briton the design maintains,
To break inglorious Slav'ry's galling chains;
To cheer the woe-fraught soul, to sooth distress,
With Freedom's ray far-distant climes to bless;
To check the proud, impetuous tyrant's rage,
And thraldom's keenest miseries asswage.
Too long the vile reproach has stain'd our land,
Of arming Cruelty's despotic hand
With legal pow'r, to render most forlorn
Th' unhappy men in Afric's regions born;
To seize and hale them from their native shore,
Force them to toil and swell their master's store!
To break the dearest, tend'rest ties of life,
Rend from the husband's arms the much-lov'd wife!


Page 20

Fond parents from their weeping babes to force,
Viewing the plaintive tear without remorse!
More cruel yet to seize the infant train,
Regardless of the poignant, deep-felt pain,
Which will the parents' tortur'd minds oppress,
Who for their wrongs (though great) have no redress;
The grief that must the father's heart o'erflow!
The mother's frantic ecstacy of woe!
Robb'd of her only hope, her darling care,
She beats her breast, and tears her woolly hair;
In bitt'rest anguish her complaints increase,
Against the fell destroyers of her peace.
Perhaps the tender youth thus snatch'd away,
O'er fable nations would have borne the sway!
Perhaps some princess to an empire born,
Sad change of fate! now doom'd to endless scorn;
To bear th' oppressive yoke, to feel the thong,
And drag a weight of misery along!
Behold the wretched victims in despair,
Torn from each joy, the sharpest woes to share;
Depriv'd of ev'ry blessing life affords,
Loaded with fetters by their rigid lords;
Deny'd the comforts of the social hour,
Condemn'd to feel the iron hand of Pow'r!


Page 21

That man must be of worse than savage kind,
Who views such objects with unfeeling mind.
His heart he trebly steel'd against distress,
Who can his fellow-creatures thus oppress.
Were they not made-by that Creator's hand,
Who form'd the natives of a fairer land?
Are not their species and our own the same?
In colour only differing, not in name?
By nature are they not endu'd with pow'rs,
Affections, feelings, sense, and life like ours?
Witness that* man of their despised race,
Whose genius claim'd him an exalted place
Amongst the sons of learning, wit, and fame,
Whose native worth deserves a deathless name;
His heart with ev'ry virtuous passion glow'd,
Bright sense was his, by nature's hand bestow'd;
Which proves--in their uncultur'd minds are sown
The seeds of knowledge equal with our own:
And shall we rob them of the bliss design'd
By Heav'n, the common right of all mankind?
Of liberty, to ev'ry soul most dear?
No! Britons will no more the censure bear;


Page 22

Britons, whose deeds with lasting fame are crown'd,
For ev'ry gen'rous virtue long renown'd;
Who have from age to age preserv'd the smile
Of glorious Freedom on their native isle,
Be it their pride her influence to extend,
Where'er the sun's bright rays their radiance lend;
And to their foes leave that ignoble strife--
For sordid gain to barter human life.
O ye amongst the framers of our laws,
The first to plead the hapless negroes' cause;
Ye patriot sons of Liberty, proceed,
Dare to complete the gen'rous, godlike deed;
Go, wrest the scourge from vile Oppression's hand,
Make Britain's name rever'd in ev'ry land;
Go tell the wretch whose base, corrupted mind
Self-int'rest warps, and false opinions blind;
Who waves o'er human race th' oppressor's rod,
The helpless suff'rers trembling at his nod;
Tell him Britannia scorns, as sons, to own
Men to whose breasts soft Pity stands unknown;
Bid him act worthy of th' illustrious name,
Or ne'er expect to share a Briton's fame.
Then shall our land with added greatness rise,
Blest by the mighty Pow'r who rules the skies;


Page 23

In whose esteem the swarthy Ethiop stands,
High as the fairest sons of Europe's lands.
O! may sweet Mercy's angel form divine,
Deign o'er the world with softest beams to shine;
May heav'n-inspir'd Philanthropy increase,
And through each realm spread Liberty and Peace.
*Ignatius Sancho, an African.

ODE TO FORTUNE. SEPTEMBER, 1789.

BLIND goddess, whose capricious sway
The thoughtless race of man obey,
        Whose transient smiles they court;
How hapless must thy vot'ries be,
Who, lur'd to fancy'd bliss by thee,
        Become thy cruel sport.

Thou, sorc'ress, on thy magic wheel,
Bid'st human race thy vengeance feel,
        And dread the fatal turn;
Though now they gain the topmost seat,
And with exulting triumph's heat
        Their raptur'd bosoms burn.


Page 24

Yet soon, transfix'd, their envy'd lot,
Their pow'r, their greatness, all forgot,
        They find themselves the scorn
Of those exalted in their place,
Whom late they deem'd an abject race,
        For their advantage born.

Then happiest they who ne'er depend
On such a fickle, faithless friend,
        Nor thy dominion own;
Whose pleasure's to no state confin'd,
Who, with a steady, equal mind,
        Can meet thy smile or frown.

Thrice happy he, who, truly wise,
Can each intemp'rate bliss despise,
        Which might his peace annoy;
Blest with Content, serenely fair,
Stranger alike to dark Despair
        And wild tumultuous Joy.


Page 25

ON THE NORFOLK AND NORWICH HOSPITAL,

OCTOBER, 1789.

See where yon spacious structure meets the eye!
    When, wing'd with zeal, intent on mortals' good,
Fair Charity, first offspring of the sky,
    Left her celestial realms for earth's abode.

Descending, here she fix'd her gracious seat;
    When Indigence the shaft of Pain receives,
Her hand conducts him to this blest retreat,
    Here soothes his anguish, and each woe relieves.

Here sage Professors of the healing art,
    Whose souls divine Benevolence inspires;
Their time employ, their wealth, their skill impart,
    Before whose eyes Death, with slow step, retires.

The halpless wretch to dire Disease a prey,
    From his untimely fate they kindly save;
With friendly hand each healing balm convey,
    And snatch the body from the gaping grave.


Page 26

With equal care they teach the soul to trace
    Those regions for her future life design'd;
Expand the thoughts beyond earth's narrow space,
    And raise from dark Despair th' immortal mind.

Hail, sacred fabric! gen'rous mortals hail!
    By Charity inspir'd, these walls you fram'd;
Where'er her sway shall o'er the world prevail,
    Shall your unfading honours be proclaim'd.

ON CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. NOVEMBER, 1789.

SAY, lordly Man, of pow'rs possest,
    That no inferior creatures know;
Say, can the mind with reason blest,
    Relentless fury show.

To thy domain all beasts belong,
    Yet why so merciless thy sway?
Why to the harmless, useful throng,
    Such cruelty display?


Page 27

Just accusations all may bring,
    Against imperious Man complain;
Whatever spreads in air its wing,
    Or grazes on the plain.

The bird laments its plunder'd nest,
    Her mate shot, breathless, at her side;
A pair, she cries, thus fondly blest,
    Shall sportive hands divide?

The lab'ring ox that ploughs the soil,
    Must feel th' unpitying drover's rage;
A life of never-ceasing toil
    Might kinder fate engage.

The patient ass, or nobler horse,
    Who ne'er to Man their aid refuse;
Can tyrant Man, without remorse,
    Unfeelingly abuse?

Nor these alone their claims assert;
    Each guiltless creature we oppress
Appeals to ev'ry feeling heart
    For pity and redress.


Page 28

Is't not enough, vain mortal, say,
    Their lives to feed thee myriads give?
But must thou, with unlenient sway,
    Distress them whilst they live?

'Tis not for this the Lord of All
    His creatures to thy pow'r subjects;
For thy revenge or sport to fall,
    As Folly's choice directs.

Whence could that passion first arise,
    Which from the mind in transport breaks?
The thoughtless child on birds or flies
    His infant vengeance wreaks.

If no correcting care restrains,
    Th' exulting tyrant makes no stand;
No creature in his pow'r he gains,
    But feels his tort'ring hand.

Now fierce revenge his mind ensnares,
    Each tender sentiment is lost;
His fellow-beings scarce he spares,
    By whirls of fury tost.


Page 29

Then o'er the young, unbiass'd race
    Celestial Mercy's reign extend;
Left what in heedless sport takes place,
    In serious crimes should end.

Let all thy kind compassion share,
    Through Nature's universal frame;
Whatever breathes thy kindred air,
    Or feels the vital flame.

ON EDUCATION. DECEMBER, 1789.

    WHEN infant Reason first exerts her sway,
And new-form'd thoughts their earlier charms display;
Then let the growing race employ your care,
Then guard their op'ning minds from Folly's snare;
Correct the tiring passions of their youth,
Teach them each serious, each important truth;
Plant heav'nly virtue in the tender breast,
Destroy each vice that might its growth molest;
Point out betimes the course they should pursue;
Then with redoubled pleasure shall you view


Page 30

Their reason strengthen as their years increase,
Their virtues ripen and their follies cease;
Like corn sown early in a fertile soil,
The richest harvest shall repay your toil.

ODE TO FANCY. JANUARY, 1790.

O thou keen Pow'r, whose radiant eye
Can thousand shadowy forms descry,
    That cheat corporeal sight;
Thou who canst soar above yon spheres,
Past days recall, see future years,
    Or pierce the shades of night.

Thou source of true poetic fire,
To thee the soul-commanding lyre
    Its sweetest magic owes;
Friend of the Muse in ev'ry age,
Each godlike poet's rapt'rous page
    Thy potent influence shows.


Page 31

Come, swift-wing'd Fancy, airy maid,
In varied, dazzling vest array'd,
    Inspire thy vot'ry's lay;
Grant me thy flow'ry walks to tread,
To range thy summer-painted mead,
    Or near thy fountain play.

Now led by thy resistless hand,
Or guided by thy fairy wand,
    O'er yet untrodden space;
Or on thy pinions borne along,
The bright Ideas' flitting throngs
    Pursue th' aerial race.

Yet stay, enrapt'ring Goddess, stay,
Forbear from Reason's ken to stray;
    Nor urge thy tow'ring flight
Above firm Judgment's sure command;
But let his fix'd, unerring hand
    Direct thy wand'rings right.

When fire-clad Phoebus mounts his car,
O'erwhelms with light each fading star,
    And bids their queen retire;
Then, Fancy, thou begin'st thy course,
But doubly thou renew'st thy force,
    When day's bright beams expire.


Page 32

Pleas'd in cool ev'ning shades to stray,
To hear sweet Philomela's lay,
    And haunt the leafy grove;
Or view pale Cynthia's midnight gleam
Reflected in the glassy stream,
    Or o'er wide desarts rove.

With sober Judgment hand in hand,
Still mayst thou roam o'er sea and land,
    Or beat thy trackless way
Amid the realms of boundless light,
And in thy rapid, eager flight,
    Foretaste th' eternal day.

ODE TO BENEVOLENCE. MARCH, 1790.

    NYMPH of the joy-diffusing smile,
        The soft, endearing mien;
    Whose looks the heaviest grief beguile,
        And chear the gloomiest scene;
May ev'ry Muse her tribute pay,
When thy celestial name demands the lay.


Page 33

    Thou canst pale Envy's rage restrain;
        Thine is the pow'r to tame
    Revenge, with all his ghastly train,
        And quench Ambition's flame;
'Tis thine to clip the wings of Pride,
And bid Self-love his low'ring aspect hide.

    Thine is the heart-felt, social glow,
        Th' extensive wish to bless;
    To bid the streams of comfort flow
        Where'er thou seest distress;
Thine is the sympathetic sigh,
The melting drop that falls from Pity's eye.

    Thou to no region art confin'd,
        But spread'st o'er all thy charm:
    With sweet Society combin'd,
        Earth's frigid zone canst warm;
Canst mitigate the torrid's flame,
And teach remotest realms t' adore thy name.

    But most Britannia owns thy sway,
        Thou rul'st her Monarch's breast;
    Her gen'rous sons thy pow'r display,
        And bid each wretch be blest;
Thy heav'n-taught laws their souls expand,
T' impart their bliss to each less happy land.


Page 34

    What tongue her Howard's fame shall tell?
        Whose heart, inspir'd by thee,
    Has pierc'd the dungeon's direst cell,
        And set the captive free;
Who joy'd through ev'ry clime to go,
To soothe despair and heal each human woe.

    But ah! too soon his day is o'er,
        Thy sacrifice he falls;
    On earth, alas! he shines no more,
        Yon heav'n his spirit calls:
A grateful world laments his fate,
And shall revere his name to time's last date.

    Yet though, lov'd Goddess, all divine,
        Thy darting son is fled;
    Millions shall bow before thy shrine,
        By his example led:
Thy friends shall rise in various climes,
And future Howards bless succeeding times.

    Still glad the nations with thy reign,
        Thou source of pure delight!
    The kindred virtues in thy train
        With dove-like Peace unite!
E'en now her head meek Mercy rears,
And calls Astrea from her native spheres.


Page 35

    Thy lustre o'er each mind display,
        Where Reason deigns to gleam;
    Thou, ardent as the God of Day,
        Yet mild as Luna's beam;
Teach men each other's bliss to prize,
Th' unsocial thought and self-bound wish despise.

ODE TO CONTENT. APRIL, 1790.

    DAUGHTER of Innocence! descend,
        Thou stranger to repining Care;
    Whose breast no furious passions rend,
        Let human hearts thy influence share:
Why wilt thou still our eager search elude,
And thy fair form seclude?

    Though Plenty decks the sumptuous board,
        And gaudy Splendor rules the feast;
    Can these felicity afford,
        If thou, Content, be not a guest?
Not all the wealth that rears an Indian throne,
Thy absence can atone.


Page 36

    See idle Folly's frantic train,
        Loud Riot rules their midnight hour;
    Their bosoms rack'd with guilty pain,
        Ne'er own'd thy soothing, balmy pow'r:
Remorse with deadly venom points the dart,
They feel the rankling smart.

    The simple hind, whose lowly cot
        Thy ever-placid smiles adorn;
    Blest in his undistinguish'd lot,
        With joy salutes each rising morn:
And when he quits his daily toils for rest,
No evil haunts his breast.

    Be thou, O Nymph, my constant guide,
        Through varying Life's tempestuous seas;
    'Tis thou canst stem each adverse tide,
        And find th' unruffled port of Ease:
Thou canst in ev'ry storm a calm create,
And smile at angry Fate.

    O grant me oft the temp'rate bliss,
        With thee to pass the silent hour
    (To changeful Fortune's frown submiss),
        In calm Retirement's shady bow'r:
Or with thy peaceful family to dwell,
In some sequester'd cell.


Page 37

    Where Health is found with ruddy brow,
        And Meekness flies the voice of Fame;
    And Contemplation feels the glow
        Of pure Devotion's hallow'd flame;
And radiant Hope, who darts her eagle eye
To scenes beyond the sky.

    Sincerity with artless mien,
        Firm Faith, whom Doubt can ne'er annoy;
    Thy beauteous race shall join the scene,
        Sedate Repose and tranquil Joy;
With Industry, who slavish want disdains,
And spurns Sloth's lagging chains.

    Deign, gentle Power, on earth t' abide,
        And shed thy breathing sweets around;
    Now o'er the social hours preside,
        Now tread the solitary ground:
Celestial Happiness, thy constant friend,
Shall all thy paths attend.


Page 38

ODE TO CHEARFULNESS. MAY, 1790.

HAIL! Virgin of ætherial birth,
Thou more lovely far than Mirth,
    O hither bend thy way!
Come, beauteous Nymph, serenely smiling,
Ev'ry anxious thought beguiling,
    Thou mak'st each prospect gay.

Thine eye with joy young Spring beholds,
When Nature ev'ry charm unfolds,
    And spreads thy fav'rite hue;
When Eurus to his cave retires,
And Zephyr fans those glowing fires
    That verdant life renew.

Thou lov'st to range the fields at dawn,
Or meet the shepherds on the lawn,
    At leisure Eve's advance;
Brisk Sport comes tripping o'er the mead,
And sweetly sounds his oaten read,
    And joins the rural dance.


Page 39

Not e'en hoar Winter's dreary sway,
Nor freezing blast can thee dismay,
    Nor change thy sprightly mien;
'Tis then thou seek'st the social band,
And o'er their minds, with gentle hand,
    Diffus'st a joy serene.

Though absent Sol his ray denies,
Round the bright flame which Art supplies,
    The friendly train regale;
Some fairy legend each imparts,
Whilst rapt Attention, gazing, starts
    At ev'ry wond'rous tale.

Thy presence charms stern grief to rest,
Thy light illumes th' untainted breast,
    Sweet sister of Content;
Like her thou fly'st th' abandon'd mind,
Where Guilt, Despair, and Shame combin'd,
    Their hapless prey torment.

What magic in thy aspect dwells!
That Melancholy's mist dispells;
    What graces round thee shine!
Sweet Pleasure ever near thee stands,
With Transport, whose high soul expands,
    And soars to realms divine.


Page 40

ODE TO SOLITUDE. JUNE, 1790.

    O thou, each Muse's dearest friend,
    Pensive Solitude, attend;
    With musing thought and stedfast eye,
    All is peace when thou art nigh;
    Parent of Meditation, hail!
    O guide my steps to yonder vale;
    Where nought disturbs the silent morn,
Save chirping birds on ev'ry dewy thorn.

    When first the cock's shrill clarion founds,
    Which Echo from her cave rebounds;
    While yet the sons of toil are deep
    Lull'd in the downy arms of Sleep;
    Then lead me up the mountain's height,
    To view the skies in azure dight,
    And Phoebus' rising beams behold,
When first they tinge the orient clouds with gold.


Page 41

    Or for a summer seat I'd take
    The margin of yon chrystal lake;
    Or with the winding current stray,
    And see the finny nation play;
    'Till fervent Noon, with scorching heat,
    Bids to seek some cool retreat;
    Then with thee I'd choose to rove
To shades impervious in the thickest grove.

    And when the radiant God of Day,
    Declining, sheds a milder ray;
    And with less dazzling glories crown'd,
    Casts the length'ning shadows round;
    Then the flow'ry fields invite,
    With thee to walk in calm delight;
    'Till by degrees each prospect fades,
Involv'd in sable Night's advancing shades.

    But see, the full-orb'd Moon appears,
    Sublimely soaring 'mid the spheres;
    And now the mind, with sacred flame,
    Contemplates the starry frame:
    As each new wonder she explores,
    The great Creator's pow'r adores;
    Admires o'er all his wise controul,
'Till heav'nly ecstacy enraps the soul.


Page 42

    O Solitude I thy vot'ry tell,
    In what wild wood thou joy'st to dwell;
    Amid the desarts thou art found,
    Thy awful brows with cypress crown'd:
    Through each quick-revolving day,
    The Muse delights to own thy sway;
    To thee, O thoughtful Nymph, belong
The pow'rs which animate her noblest song.

ON THE DEATH OF THE REV. DR. LLOYD,
DEAN OF NORWICH.

JUNE, 1790.

WHY hang the shades of gloom on ev'ry brow?
    Why the melodious Nine in silent grief!
Each tuneful instrument away they throw,
    And flee to lonely woods to seek relief.

Some new distress, pale Fear, foreboding, cries,
    Some native of the heav'ns from earth is fled:
He's dead! he's gone! each mournful Muse replies,
    The Son of Piety and Learning's dead!


Page 43

Science laments, her fav'rite friend's no more,
    And meek Religion sorrows o'er his bier;
Benevolence and Truth his loss deplore,
    And ev'ry Christian Virtue drops a tear.

Whilst here, on earth, those Virtues deck'd his mind,
    They form'd his Soul for scenes of endless joy;
To which she soars exulting, unconfin'd;
    Bright realms, where Pain and Death no more annoy.

While in funereal grandeur's awful gloom,
    With solemn sadness, see, they slowly move,
To rest the relics in the hallow'd tomb,
    The Spirit flies to meet a Saviour's love.

Yet though his sacred ashes sleep in dust,
    Ne'er shall his mem'ry be by Time destroy'd;
He still shall live recorded 'mongst the just,
    And ev'ry age revere the name of LLOYD .


Page 44

ODE TO PEACE. JUNE, 1790.

    THOU, whose mild radiance all adore,
    O let not human-kind deplore
        The loss of thy propitious smile:
    Why, Goddess, in such wild affright,
    Wilt thou from Europe take thy flight?
O stay, to bless Britannia's favour'd isle!

    Lo! where, in vengeful steel array'd,
    His bloody banners wide display'd,
        Fierce War, with angry aspect, stands:
    O! loveliest of the heav'n-born train!
    Shall he thy spotless vesture stain,
Or tear the olive from thy sacred hands?

    No! thou shalt safely here abide,
    Thy offspring, Plenty, by thy side,
        Profuse her blessings shall bestow;
    At whose approach gaunt Famine flies,
    And ev'ry fear-rais'd phantom dies,
And black Despair shall veil his with'ring brow.


Page 45

    Her oaken bulwarks Britain boasts,
    To guard her sea-environ'd coasts,
        Her sons in Honor's robes appear,
    And thine and Freedom's reign support;
    Nor Gallia's treach'rous smiles shall court,
Nor proud Iberia's daring insults fear.

    Yet, when provok'd by just alarms,
    The dauntless heroes rush to arms,
        They quick return with conquest crown'd;
    Enamour'd of thy form benign,
    Shall cast their laurels at thy shrine,
While Friendship, Health, and Pleasure smile around.

TO A LADY, ON THE DEATH OF HER
INFANT SON. JUNE 1790.

RESPECTED Lady! whilst thy heart
    Still feels the recent wound,
Some solace might the Muse impart,
    Or breath one soothing sound!


Page 46

Though early mingled with the dead,
    Thy much-lov'd Infant falls;
Yet, though he droops his beauteous head,
    When Fate, relentless calls;

Aloft the smiling Cherub flies,
    He joins th' angelic throng:
Hark! how he's welcom'd to the skies,
    In sweet, seraphic song!

His spotless innocence insures,
    Amid the realms of Peace,
Joy, which beyond Time's bound endures,
    With life that ne'er shall cease.

Though the grim tyrant Death's chill hand
    Has nipt thy budding flow'r,
Some lovely blossoms yet shall stand,
    To bless each future hour.

Yet when a Parent's heart o'erflows,
    With tend'rest grief opprest,
What words can charm those poignant woes,
    Or soothe the wounded breast?


Page 47

Still shall the pensive Fancy dwell
    On what was late so dear,
And fond Remembrance oft impel
    The sad material tear.

Oh! say, can Sympathy impart
    One gleam of soft relief,
'Till lenient Time shall draw the dart,
    And still the voice of Grief?

ON THE RENEWAL OF VIRTUOUS FRIEND-
SHIP IN A FUTURE STATE.

JULY, 1790.

IF, when the Spirit quits her clay-built cell,
With incorporeal essences to dwell,
Attachments form'd on earth their force retain,
And with increasing ardour still remain;
What raptures must posses the virtuous mind,
(Virtue alone those joys can hope to find)


Page 48

To meet in worlds of never-ending bliss,
All whom we lov'd, esteem'd, rever'd in this.
The long-lost Child shall glad the Parents' sight,
Deck'd in refulgent robes of spotless light;
Children with grateful smiles their Parents greet,
Who fled before them to the blissful seat.
They whom th' untimely stroke of Death disjoin'd,
The faithful Pair, by sacred vows combin'd;
Met in the realms of happiness, shall prove
The true delights of pure celestial love.
But when two hearts whom tender Friendship sways,
On virtue founded in their earliest days;
(Union which sympathy of soul endears,
Its strength maturing with increasing years)
Who ne'er could wish one pleasure to conceal,
Nor knew one grief but Friendship's balm could heal;
Sincerely anxious for each other's good,
By mutual counsel, sweet reproof they stood:
When two such Spirits wing their airy way,
And reach the bright abodes of endless day;
Enraptur'd, each the dear-lov'd friend shall view,
And ardently the solemn league renew;
Ecstatic transports feel, without alloy,
Sublimest friendship height'ning ev'ry joy;
They part no more, nor change their glorious state,
Completely blest beyond the power of Fate.


Page 49

Should we not form such friendships here below,
As only can survive the destin'd blow?
Since Vice, though leagu'd, her trust shall soon betray,
And Folly's airy vows flee swift away;
Whilst virtuous Union scorns th' attacks of Time,
And hopes to flourish in a nobler clime;
Of never-fading happiness possest,
In heav'nly mansions of eternal rest.

PROSPERITY AND ADVERSITY.

AUGUST, 1790.

PROSPERITY, with glitt'ring charms,
Invites her vot'ries to her arms,
    In Pleasure's silken robes array'd;
Of Folly's cup she bids them drink,
Oft lures them to Destruction's brink,
    Her path with flow'rs o'erlaid.


Page 50

She oft to their deluded eyes,
The mirror of Deceit applies,
    Where dazzling worldly Pomp is shown;
They gaze, forgetful whence they are,
'Till caught in proud Ambition's snare,
    They Reason's sway disown.

Adversity, with brow austere,
Her looks forbidding and severe,
    The friend of mortals in disguise,
Pursues them through each devious way;
On Terror's wings each son of clay
    Her dreaded presence flies.

But soon, unable to contend,
Reluctant, to her pow'r they bend,
    Her rigid discipline endure;
Taught by her voice themselves to know,
And what to others' bliss they owe,
    To make their own secure.


Page 51

From Falsehood's mist she clears their sight,
Illumes their minds with Virtue's light,
    And bids them burst soft Pleasure's bands;
Each Passion feels her just controul,
And Reason's empire o'er the soul
    Again securely stands.

Art thou, Prosperity, assign'd
The happy lot of human-kind,
    Let Prudence all thy actions guide;
With mild Humility, whose care
Shall bid thy tow'ring steps beware
    The precipice of Pride.

Haft thou, Adversity, thy charge
O'er Earth's abodes to rule at large,
    Let Fortitude thy reign attend;
Content and Hope be ever near,
And those condemn'd thy wrath to bear
    Shall hail thee as their friend.


Page 52

ODE TO HARMONY.

SEPT. 1790.

    QUEEN of the blest Angelic Choir!
        Bright native of the spheres!
    Whose pow'rs all Nature's works inspire,
        Whose notes, entranc'd, she hears,
'Tis thou direct'st yon orbs of light;
    When thou, majestic, rear'd'st thy head,
    Aw'd by thy voice grim Chaos fled
        To realms of endless night.

    Sweet Poesy without thy aid,
        Had ne'er to fame aspir'd,
    Nor e'er her graceful charms display'd,
        But in thy robes attir'd;
At thy command soft numbers flow,
    Thou bounds ordain'st to ev'ry line,
    Bid'st Energy and Ease combine,
        And giv'st th' emphatic glow.


Page 53

    Where thou, immortal Nymph, art found,
        Thy sister Peace abides,
    The beauteous Graces sport around,
        And spotless Joy presides;
Each prospect charms when thou art near;
    Where'er thou smil'st on social life,
    Thy hideous foe, tormenting Strife,
        Shall swiftly disappear.

    But when thou sit'st in solemn state,
        Above thy tuneful train;
    Who chaunt, with ecstacy elate,
        The soul-enliv'ning strain,
What sounds th' enraptur'd ear salute!
    Thy breath each instrument awakes,
    The glowing Passions captive takes,
        And strikes harsh Discord mute,

    Descending 'mid thy heav'nly throng,
        With mortals haste to dwell;
    O grant them oft th' enchanting song
        From thy melodious shell!
Mellifluent accents oft convey;
    O! deign to rule the human mind,
    Whose ev'ry thought, by thee refin'd,
        Shall Virtue's laws obey.


Page 54

ODE TO AUTUMN. OCTOBER, 1790.

HAIL! temp'rate Autumn, Nymph sedate,
With russet clad in simple state,
    Thou claim'st the votive lay;
Thy dew the thirsty earth revives,
Each drooping plant new strength derives,
    Nor dreads the scorching ray.

Though blooming Spring delights no more,
And ruddy Summer's charms are o'er,
    Some beauties grace thy reign;
A second Spring adorns thy breast,
Some blushing flow'rets deck thy vest,
    The last in Nature's train.

Now sheaf-crown'd Ceres leads her throng,
Whilst Gratitude inspires their song,
    To Heav'n's all-bounteous King;
Now rural mirth their hours employ,
With chearful sounds of guiltless joy
    The peaceful vallies ring.


Page 55

See, rich Pomona next appears,
Her choicest wealth the Goddess bears,
    To crown thy festive board;
The Vine her circling arms extends,
Beneath her purple burden bends,
    With luscious nectar stor'd.

While yet thy golden presents please,
Rude Winter's hand unrobes the trees,
    And ends thy mild domain;
And soon the tyrant's piercing storm
Shall Nature's beauteous face deform,
    And desolate the plain.

Thus flee our days with swiftest pace,
Seasons to seasons yield their place,
    And year to year succeeds;
Thus spends vain man his transient life,
Immers'd in pleasure, bus'ness, strife,
    Nor Wisdom's dictates heeds.

But soon the gay delusion's past,
And Time, with Age's wint'ry blast,
    Each fleeting bliss destroys;
Ah! be it then our ceaseless care
To fit th' immortal soul to share
    In Heav'n's substantial joys.


Page 56

ODE TO PLEASURE. NOVEMBER, 1790.

COME, thou, who art by all pursu'd;
Art thou with magic pow'rs endu'd,
To charm each woe, each bliss impart,
Fill with delight th' enraptur'd heart,
And make the gloomy aspect gay,
Then child of Fancy hither stray.
But how wilt thou thy footsteps guide?
If, to Frenzy near ally'd,
Thou com'st with loose, ungovern'd pace,
Void of ev'ry decent grace;
If deck'd with each alluring spoil,
If Lux'ry, with unceasing toil,
With Art combin'd, has rang'd the globe,
To form thy gaudy, glitt'ring robe;
With thee if Vice's train advance,
And Folly's race around thee dance;
And Guilt and Pain, who ne'er divide,
O'er the motley tribe preside;
With sullen mien succeeds Disgrace,
And Shame, who veils her abject face;
Malignant Strife, with blood-stain'd hands,
And lawless Mischief grinning stands;


Page 57

And dark Deceit, with baleful smiles,
Thy thoughtless vot'ries still beguiles;
Led by specious, false Pretence,
Foes to Virtue, Goodness, Sense;
And thou with Riot spend'st the day,
Vain Goddess, then I scorn thy sway.
True to Wisdom's hallow'd flame,
True to Honor's sacred name;
On Virtue's nobler pinions rise,
And all thy glaring pomp despise.
But if thou com'st by Reason led,
If sweetest flow'rs adorn thy head,
Cull'd from Nature's simplest walks;
If with thee fair Prudence talks,
And Innocence, in snowy vest,
And Temp'rance, with unruffled breast;
And Exercise, to crown whose brows,
Enliv'ning Health a wreath bestows;
If Friendship, open and sincere,
And smooth Tranquility be there;
Then, Pleasure, I no more disdain
To join thy sportive, harmless train;
To quit the hut of sordid Care,
Awhile thy sylvan joys to share;


Page 58

To range the riv'let's grassy side,
Or view the garden's purple pride;
Or meet the smiling, festive throng,
With lively dance and artless song;
Still awake at Wisdom's voice,
And in her just commands rejoice;
When she bids to shun thy gate,
And on her solemn footsteps wait;
With her th' instructive page turn o'er,
And all her hidden laws explore;
Her studious paths ne'er end in pain,
But lead to thy eternal reign.

ODE TO TIME. JANUARY, 1791.

O thou, who with the world had'st birth,
Who rul'st despotic o'er the earth,
    To whom its life each creature yields;
Man, bird, and beast confess thy pow'r,
The loftiest tree, the humblest flow'r,
    The grass that cloaths the fields.


Page 59

The noblest domes that proudly rise,
The tow'rs that seem to pierce the skies,
    The marble pillar falls thy prey;
The massy pile shall strew the ground,
The stately arch, with trophies crown'd,
    Thy summons must obey.

The monument of solid brass,
The sculptur'd form away shall pass,
    When struck by thy enchanted wand;
The pencil's liveliest tints shall fade,
Shall sink beneath Oblivion's shade,
    From thy destructive hand.

E'en Hist'ry's self, whose deathless page
Conveys each truth from age to age,
    At her thou oftimes aim'st a blow;
She, who thy purpos'd rage defeats,
As thy rude arm the stroke repeats,
    More obsolete shall grow.


Page 60

Yet, Tyrant, not immortal thou,
But to Eternity shalt bow,
    When he resumes his antient sway;
He reign'd supreme ere thou wast nam'd,
Long ere this universe was fram'd,
    Before the birth of Day.

Thy being shall no more be known,
Nature shall him her sov'reign own,
    And thine and Death's triumphant foe;
Then Heav'n shall sentence human race,
As well or ill they spent thy space,
    To endless joy or woe.

Man, thoughtless, inconsistent Man,
Who oft laments his shorten'd span,
    Of thy slow flight does he complain?
His fleeting days no more appear,
E'en now another transient year
    Is added to thy train.


Page 61

O may we ne'er thy worth despise,
But seize each moment ere it flies,
    And to the noblest ends employ;
Then shall we, when thy reign is o'er,
Quick wafted to th' empyreal shore,
    Unfading bliss enjoy.

TO HOPE. FEBRUARY, 1791.

O thou! advance, whose heav'nly light
    Can make each scene of sadness please;
On future bliss can fix the sight,
    And anguish change to ease.

'Tis thou, sweet Hope, of race divine,
    Who bid'st the Poet's thoughts aspire;
Thou breath'st thy influence o'er each line,
    And add'st celestial fire.


Page 62

Thou bid'st his anxious bosom glow,
    To climb the steep ascent of fame;
To share that praise the just bestow,
    And gain a deathless name.

The Painter, fir'd by thee, can trace
    Each genuine beauty Nature gives,
As on the canvas shines each grace,
    Renown'd his mem'ry lives.

'Tis thou, sweet Hope, whose magic pow'r
    The griefs of absence best can calm;
While Friendship chides each loit'ring hour,
    Thou shed'st thy soothing balm.

Thou mak'st the captive's heart rejoice
    In gloomy regions of despair;
In thought he hears fair Freedom's voice,
    And breathes in purer air.

But oh! when thou forsak'st his breast,
    What dismal horrors round him rise!
His mind, with weightier chains opprest,
    Deep sunk in sorrow lies.


Page 63

The sailor on the wat'ry waste,
    While boist'rous waves terrific roar,
Thou bid'st ideal pleasure taste,
    And tread his native shore.

The wretch whom keen Remorse assails,
    Or he who feels Misfortune's dart,
His hapless fate no more bewails,
    Such joy thy beams impart.

When Life presents her closing scene,
    Thy radiant sunshine chears the soul;
'Tis thou, bright Hope, with smile serene,
    Canst Fear's dread hand controul.

No mist obstructs thy piercing sight,
    Thou bid'st the mind her greatness know;
Soaring, thou point'st to realms of light,
    And scorn'st to rest below.


Page 64

ODE TO TRANQUILITY. APRIL, 1791.

O! where, thou friend of mortals, say,
Dost thou thy placid charms display?
Thou with Innocence art join'd,
Empress of the spotless mind.
Thy fav'rite haunts, O Nymph belov'd!
Are far from busy Care remov'd;
Within the hermit's moss-grown cell,
Thou, undisturb'd, delight'st to dwell;
The stately palace oft wilt quit,
Beneath the peasant's roof to sit;
He tills, he sows the grateful soil,
And thou reward'st his useful toil.
Alike thou shun'st the thorny road
To wailing Sorrow's dark abode,
Or Superstition's gloomy cave,
(To Social Bliss a timeless grave)
And scorn'st to join the giddy throng,
Who, lur'd by Pleasure's syren song,
Rush to Vice's baneful arms,
Blind to Virtue's brighter charms:


Page 65

Thou fly'st Indulgence as thy foe,
Whose flow'ry pathway leads to woe.
Health, Peace, and Temp'rance round thee wait,
And watchful Prudence guards thy gate;
Of each intrusive guest afraid,
Who might profane thy sacred shade.
Thy paths abound with fragrant bow'rs,
Adorn'd with sweet, umbrageous flow'rs,
Where, wrapt in thoughts divinely pure,
Calm Meditation sits secure.
Thy simple mansion charms the eye,
No gilded turrets beam on high;
But lowly shrubs thy seat surround,
And trees with verdant foliage crown'd;
The peaceful olive shades thy grove,
Beneath whose branches dwells the dove.
Here Solitude, unseen, may range,
Or Friendship mutual vows exchange;
Inspire the soul with Virtue's flame,
And point the path to spotless fame.
Here, beneath thy temp'rate sky,
Her infant pow'rs may Fancy try,
May plume her wings, prepare her lyre,
And soar to join the heav'nly choir.


Page 66

Thy inmost walks O let me rove,
And oft thy balmy pleasures prove;
When Spring, in verdant vest array'd,
Has each enliv'ning charm display'd;
When Summer spreads each glowing hue,

[This and the following two lines are connected by a large brace in the right margin of the original printed edition.]


And beauteous paints the varying view,
Or milder Autumn breathes her dew.
But when bleak Winter's surly blast
O'er the bright scene his gloom shall cast,
O let me in thy cottage find
Whate'er delights th' untainted mind:
For there the Graces oft retreat,
And there the sky-born Virtues meet;
Benevolence and social Joy
Shall there the pleasing hours employ;
Calm Contentment there abides,
And decent Piety presides;
Her aid harmonious Concord lends,
And smiling Chearfulness attends.
Whilst thus thou dost each bliss diffuse,
To thee, Tranquility, my Muse
Her constant sacrifice shall pay,
And joy to dwell beneath thy sway.

Page 67

LINES,
ADDRESSED AS A TRIBUTE OF GRATITUDE
TO THE SUBSCRIBERS IN GENERAL.

JANUARY, 1791.

WHAT glorious vision charms my wond'ring sight!
    A Goddess with benignant smile appears;
Her graceful form, attir'd in robes of light,
    And in her hand a rural pipe she bears.

'Tis Gratitude! I know the heav'nly Maid!
    Whose bosom's with ecstatic feelings fraught;
Love and respect are in her mien display'd,
    Her anxious looks express each inmost thought.

Receive, she cries, receive this pipe, and play
    Such sounds as I shall dictate to thine ear;
For lib'ral deeds demand thy noblest lay,
    Such lays as Angels might with pleasure hear.


Page 68

Spare me, bright Goddess! how shall words impart
    Thy glowing sentiments which fire my breast?
Such shining, gen'rous deeds o'erwhelm my heart
    With transports, ah! too great to be exprest.

O! had I POPE'S or GRAY'S harmonious lyre,
    O'er Nature's paths with THOMPSON could I tread,
Or catch one vivid ray of SHAKESPEAR'S fire,
    Or follow where seraphic MILTON led.

Then would my Muse expand her ardent wings,
    And far beyond these nether regions soar;
Drink deeply at Parnassus' hallow'd springs,
    And Fancy's airy heights with ease explore.

Then, led by chearful Hope, unaw'd by Fear,
    I'd bend a constant vot'ry at thy shrine;
Such notes as thou should'st whisper to mine ear,
    Should breathe melodious through the flowing line.


Page 69

But since unerring Fate's divine decree
    Has fix'd my lot to ring in humbler strain,
I'll sound the simplest shell, content to be
    The last and lowest of the tuneful train.

FINIS.



Page [70]

The following
PUBLICATIONS
are some of those issued from
The NORFOLK PRESS,
BY
COUSE & STEVENSON.


QUARTO.
OCTAVO.