I.D. no. flowapoems

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Davis British Women Romantic Poets Series

I.D. no. 117

-- Managing Editor
Charlotte Payne
-- Founding Editor
Nancy Kushigian

Poems, on moral and religious subjects.

Flowerdew, Alice, Mrs., 1759-1830.

-- by
A. Flowerdew

C. Stower H. D. Symonds Mrs. Gurney E. Vidler London Hanwell and Parker Oxford Bacon Norwich 1803

This text was scanned from its original in the Shields Library Kohler Collection, University of California, Davis. Kohler I:428. Another copy available on microfilm as Kohler I:428mf.

All poems, line groups, and lines are represented. All material originally typeset has been preserved, with the exception of running heads, the original prose line breaks, signature markings and decorative typographical elements. Page numbers and page breaks have been preserved. Pencilled annotations and other damage to the text have not been preserved.

July 3, 2007

Charlotte Payne
-- ed.

Proofed and entered final corrections.

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[Title Page]

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POEMS,
ON
MORAL AND RELIGIOUS SUBJECTS.

BY A. FLOWERDEW.

LONDON:
PRINTED BY C. STOWER,
Charles Street, Hatton Garden;
SOLD BY H. D. SYMONDS, 20, PATERNOSTER-ROW;
MRS. GURNEY, HOLBORN; E. VIDLER,
349, STRAND; HANWELL AND PARKER,
OXFORD, AND
BACON, NORWICH.
1803.

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MRS. FLOWERDEW'S
NO. 1,
UPPER TERRACE,
HIGH-STREET, ISLINGTON.

A limited Number of YOUNG LADIES are educated on the following Terms:

Board, including French, English, and Needle-work, Thirty Guineas per Anum.
Day Boarders, Fourteen Guineas.
Day Scholars, Six Guineas.

Writing, Geography, Drawing, Music, and Dancing, on the usual Terms.

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ADVERTISEMENT.

I CANNOT send the following trifling Production into the World, without expressing my most grateful Acknowledgments to those Friends, who have honoured me by their liberal Subscriptions. A List of Names at once so numerous and respectable, far exceeded my Expectation. The Poems which are now presented to the Public Eye, were written at different Periods of Life: some indeed at a very early Age, and others under the severe Pressure of Misfortune, when my Pen has frequently given that Relief which could not be derived from other Employments. A few of them were seen by a much-respected Friend in the Country, who strongly advised their Publication.—

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Though I am conscious of their great Inferiority, and that they possess but little Claim to Public Notice, yet I hope they will not be deemed wholly useless. Long engaged in the Education of Youth, I have ever found Instruction most pleasingly conveyed in easy Verse, and Sentiments are frequently fixed in the Heart by the Pleasure the Ear receives from Poetry. I trust, therefore, that both the moral and religious Tendency of the following Poems, will be thought calculated to give the young Mind a proper Bias; and that they may prove instrumental, along with many others of a much superior Kind, in promoting the great Purposes of early Reflection and genuine Piety.

Terrace, Upper Street, Islington,

May 24th, 1803.

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CONTENTS.

REFLECTIONS on the Close of the Year 1801 1
Thoughts on Death 17
Address to my Daughter 21
On the Goodness of God 25
On the Storm, New Year's Morn 1779 30
On perusing some Lines written at an early Age 34
On Redeeming Love 39
Paraphrase 45
The Folly of Scepticism 53
To Hope 57
Address to Friends in Suffolk 63
The Roses 69
The Captive Bird's Petition to Delia for Liberty 73
To Sleep 79
On hearing the Bells ringing in the New Year 1796 81

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To Resignation 83
To the Memory of a Child 85
On a Moon-light Night 87
The Widow's Prayer 89
Future Happiness, a Support under Afflictions 93
On Spring 97
The Cherry Tree 101
Lines accompanying the Present of a Bosom Friend 107
The Triumphs of Benevolence 109
On the Death of Charles Frederic Flowerdew 113
List of Subscribers 121

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REFLECTIONS
ON THE CLOSE OF THE YEAR 1801.

THE swift-revolving YEAR again is fled,
For ever fled—and not a trace is left;
Nor can we now one fleeting hour recall!
Ah! let us pause; nor hail the new-born year,
Till Mem'ry has review'd each active scene,
And Conscience told how we've improv'd the past.
Shall the Immortal Mind alone be still,
And rest self-satisfied? Shall Time roll on,
And as it rolls on swiftest pinions, bear
The precious Soul to her eternal home,

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And we not pause—no lessons gain from life,
How to improve our vast, our high concern?
With studious care the men of business toil,
Yet annually they pause—their state attest,
And joy or sorrow when the task is o'er.
Fair should the issue prove, they onward tend
Still eager to increase their growing wealth.
Has inexperience into error plung'd,
More sedulous they thence resolve to be,
And in the future to retrieve the past.
We too are traders for another world,
Anxious like them let us our state review,
Amend each error in our former course,
And careful be those treasures rich to store,
Which moth nor rust corrupt—in the sweet hope,
A bright inheritance will be our own.
The traveller too, who regions vast explores,
Pauses at times, surveys his weary steps,

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Seeks his directions, and compares with those
The road o'er-pass'd—with vigour fresh pursues
His course, and keeps its joyful end in view.
We too are trav'llers to a distant clime;
Soon shall we close this fleeting journey here;
Ah! let us see that we the path pursue
That leads to life and everlasting bliss!
What are we? Children of Mortality!
Pilgrims on earth! a portion small of time
Is given, to fit us for a better state:
This we divide, and subdivide—we call
It years, and months, and weeks; alike they pass
Unheeded, as the hours and minutes flee.—
We, who the summit of life's hill have gain'd,
E'er we descend the vale, ah! let us pause,
And from this height survey the scene we've trod;
Chequer'd has been the path, whilst—memory
Paints the pleasures and the ills we've known,

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How small the picture that contains the whole!
The heedless steps of childhood there we trace,
And here the ardent glow of youth, borne on
The wings of joyous Hope; how sweet did life
Appear, 'twas extacy, 'twas rapture all!
The future yet unknown we painted fair,
With flow'rets gay, as in the days of Spring.
There Disappointment stern we see approach
And from the giddy height of fancied joys
Recall the fall severe, when from our sweet
Aspiring flight, she hurl'd us down, to feel
That thorns entwine with ev'ry comfort here.
At points we mournful stop, and weeping say
'Twas here we lost our best, our tend'rest guides,
The dear Protectors of our infant days;
Fondly we retrace their kind parental love,
Their mingled joys, their anxious cares, display'd
In twice ten thousand recollected scenes

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Of sweet affection, through our helpless years.
'Twas here again we dropp'd a youthful friend,
On whom the heart repos'd its fondest hopes,
Our tastes, pursuits, and pleasures—all were one,
And Friendship shar'd each joy or ill we knew.
See! on the busy stage of life we move,
And sweet prosperity gilds all our ways;
Her cheating beams we thought were ever ours;
But soon Adversity, with gath'ring clouds,
Of darkest hue, surrounds each path we tread.
O! there we view the bitter cup she gave—
The dregs we drank, her iron scourge we felt;
Here Mem'ry, too just and faithful Artist,
Dips her sad pencil in unfading tints,
And as she paints we almost feel afresh
Each pang we prov'd of agonizing woe!
Is this the picture of full forty years?
View'd in one moment—all its varied scenes

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Are but the passing tale that's told; yet, oh!
There is one vast important view to take:
Through all these chequer'd paths that we have trod,
Has one great care employ'd our ev'ry thought?
In all the changes of eventful life,
Have we our Heav'nly Father's guidance seen,
Th' All-wise Dispenser of our good or ill?
In Life's gay morn, in youthful ardent prime,
To Him were our first off'rings duly paid?
Did grateful praise employ our brightest hours?
Have we, as tending on, this knowledge gain'd,
A true and sober estimate to make,
Of all a giddy world calls good and fair?
From ev'ry vain and transient object here,
Submissive have we turn'd, and onward press'd
With steady mind, and ardent zeal—to joys
Beyond the narrow bounds of time and change?
Have we weigh'd well the destin'd parts we bore

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On this wide stage—the characters prescrib'd
Have we sustain'd, and through our life adorn'd?
Then is a rich inheritance our own—
But shame and anguish wait the careless soul.
Is ours the pleasing, ours the anxious care
To rear a tender offspring? Ah! do we
Rear them for the skies? Have we impress'd the
Unfolding mind with this their great concern,
The knowledge of themselves, and of their God?
To what delights the eye, or charms the heart,
With ceaseless care their youthful steps we guide;
Whate'er can make them lovely or admir'd
We ardently pursue. Ah! let us not,
With gaudy flow'rs alone that catch the sight,
Embellish the rich soil which claims our care;
Rather, unceasing, let us daily strive
T'implant the nobler seeds of heav'nly truth;
That Truth, the lustre of whose glowing charms

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Nor age can tarnish, nor can time abate.
Be ours the work Religion blest to paint
In native loveliness, the mind t'allure
To Him, who came t'allure our souls from sin,
His mandates easy, and His burden light!
His virtues, far excelling human praise,
Be oft our animating theme—to wake
The ardent wish, the glowing mind to raise
To imitation of His spotless life,
Whose lips no sin or guile did ever stain!
But while His holy picture we pourtray,
His precepts teach, and on his virtues dwell,
O! let our lives a bright example be
Of all the doctrines which HE taught and liv'd!
Our various conduct let us here survey,
And note each past neglect—the RISING YEAR
Calls loudly on us error to amend,
And wisely to improve the present hour.

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For who can tell, if yet shall other years
Be ours, or e'en if yet another day?
O! let us watchful be while life remains;
Soon will the silent grave for ever close,
And shut out ev'ry blessing Time can yield!
Ye aged saints, to you the closing year
Reflections sweet impart, that cheer the gloom
Of hoary age, that animate the languid
Pulse of life, firmly sustain and smooth
Your slow descent into the vale of death;
With calm composure ye review the past,
A frail short journey nearly o'er, the stream
That parts you from your envied home is gain'd;
Unutterable joy shall soon be yours,
And ev'ry sigh and sorrow cease! Softly
A band celestial shall convey the waiting
Spirit to its wish'd abode—e'er long your feet
Those happy fields shall tread, where pleasures pure,

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And bliss unequall'd reign—not as strangers
Shall ye enter there—communion with the blest
Ye long have held, and at your Father's feet,
Ingrateful praise your happiest hours have pass'd.
Ye now can tell the list'ning world how great,
How pure the joy sweet piety bestows;
Through ev'ry scene of suff'ring ye have found
From Mercy's Throne rich consolation flow;
There have ye oft your sad complaint prefer'd,
And found each sorrow heal'd, with strengthen'd faith
With patience meek, your master's feet pursu'd,
Kept his all-perfect pattern still in view,
And thus adorn'd His Gospel by your lives.
As burning lights ye shine to all around,
Nor shall that sacred flame extinguish'd be;
Amid the gloom of death 'twill brighter shine,
Illume the vale with still more glowing rays,
And to perfection blaze in endless day!

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Ye young, yet more to you the CLOSING YEAR
Instruction bears; ah! hear—its solemn knell
Proclaims another season now is fled;
Perhaps its flight no pleasing thoughts convey,
Yet useful and important is the theme!
Early reflect, nor deem the task severe,
Though painful the review of mis-spent time;
For who, alas! can one fair day recall,
And joyful say, this did I spotless spend?
So mix'd our follies and our virtues grow;
So softly do they blend, entwine so close,
'Tis Wisdom's height the union to disjoin:
Begin by times—the wound we early probe
Admits an easy cure, but fest'ring where
It long remains unsearch'd, how sharp the pain,
How difficult to heal! Self-knowledge gain;
View all your actions with a jealous care,
Nor gloss your follies o'er, and virtues deem.

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See that they bear the test, that to His law
They bow, whose eye each secret spring detects,
Who tries the heart, and searches all its depths!
Can ye to Him with humble hope appeal
For motives pure and actions all sincere?
A joy is then your own no vain applause
Can give, nor aught on earth can take away!
Sweet are the days of youth; ah! waste them not,
Nor think RELIGION will abridge your joys;
She wears no aspect rigid and severe,
Dooming to harsh and melancholy thoughts
Her youthful votaries—cheerful her mien,
With countenance benign she sweetly smiles,
And wooes you to partake her placid joys;
She crowns with Peace each social hour of life,
But checks and lays a kind restraint, where pain
And misery would ensue—when Pleasure
Gayly spreads her faithless snares, and to your lip

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Presents the sparkling cup, RELIGION warns
You to beware, to mark ere yet you taste
The bitter woes that hapless millions prove,
Who deeply drink of her empoison'd bowl!
Does happiness in sweet communion dwell
With those, who, in the giddy maze of joys
Forbidden, dare waste the important hour?
A vain and empty round, in which the heart
No interest feels, fills up the passing day,
Nor leaves one hour for thought; their years roll on
Till Nature, tired, shrinks from the vapid scene,
And feels old age a blank, a load indeed!
No calm reflections here arise, no deeds
Of piety perform'd, no sweet moments
To recall, spent in kind acts of mercy
To the poor; not to the house of mourning
Have they gone, and felt the joy of doing good;
Unblest they live, unblest they die, without

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One chearing hope to sooth the dying hour!
Their God almost unknown; no time had they
Their Maker's Temple to attend; call'd by
His Name, whose followers they profess'd to be,
His name was all they knew; the spirit
Of his laws they never felt; that greatest,
Dearest treasure, the Saviour's love bestow'd,
Neglected was—strangers to the sweet hope
The gospel yields, no grateful love they bore
To him, who rais'd them from eternal death,
And gave His life a ransom for their own!
A life thus spent in folly ends in woe,
And unprepar'd the thoughtless spirit hastes
To that dread state, where record strict is kept
Of ev'ry action, word, and thought—enters
On an immortal scene of life, without
A wish beyond the present fleeting hour!
Is this the happiness that pleasure yields?

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Fly, O! ye young! her gay destructive paths;
Encourage pious thought—at seasons pause,
And call reflection to your aid—look back
On days elaps'd, and bear it on your mind,
That years which to maturity lead on,
Lead on to sickness and the grave; live then
As you would wish to die; your Saviour's life
Observe, his maxims keep, his footsteps tread:
Let piety to God, and love to man,
Rule ev'ry action of your future life!
Thus form'd, seduction shall in vain assail
Your stedfast mind—unerring truth your steps
Shall guide, amid the slipp'ry paths of youth,
Whilst sweet content shall crown your peaceful days!
Oft as this closing season shall return
A train of sweet reflections will it bring;
A grateful sense of countless mercies past

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Shall humble hope inspire for days to come;
Thus shall the mind, prepar'd, with calmness wait
In youth or age, to meet that solemn hour
When all terrestrial scenes shall fade away,
And boundless joy your happy portion be!

Oh! to that state of bliss let ALL aspire,
And aid each other on our journey there;
Cherish each kind affection in our hearts,
And zealous be to prove we Christians are,
By ev'ry act of kindness and of love:
This shall prepare us best for that bless'd world
Where holy Friendship's everlasting bands
Shall wide encircle all; Contention there
Shall cease; and Virtue's children, from afar,
Of ev'ry nation, age, and tongue, shall meet,
There, join in one harmonious, grateful song
To Him who reigns the UNIVERSAL LORD!

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THOUGHTS ON DEATH.
WRITTEN AT AN EARLY PERIOD OF LIFE.

THOU Great Supreme—Thou Source of Light Divine!
Thou who hast form'd me for eternal life!—
O! draw my mind from ev'ry vain pursuit,
And lead my thoughts to that approaching hour,
When Nature's feeble pow'rs shall all give way!
Then shall the world, its pleasures, and its cares,
Lose all their hold, and shrinking back from view,
Will leave the immortal mind to dwell on
Heavenly themes, and all the boundless scenes
Of vast eternity!—the feeble clay,
No longer able to confine her guest,
Shall drop, and sleep in Death, till that dread hour

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When the Archangel's voice shall shake the earth,
And all the dead in solemn pomp draw near!
Who now shall tell the glories of that state
To which the followers of the Lamb shall rise?
No mortal eye hath seen, nor ear hath heard,
Nor glowing heart conceiv'd, the boundless joys,
The ceaseless pleasures, that surround his Throne,
From whom springs ev'ry good and perfect bliss.
HEAVEN! 'tis a world of endless glory,
Where his continued presence ever dwells!
This is the happy state I long to reach,
Where not an intervening cloud can rise,
For I shall dwell for ever with my God.
O! may I here begin this Heav'n below,
And all my brightest hours be spent in praise;
In youth or age, ah! let me stand prepar'd
Calmly to meet my solemn, last exchange.
Then when Thou callst, without one struggling sigh,

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To Thee, who gave, would I resign my breath,
And fearless enter where my Saviour pass'd.
O'er the dark valley HE a light has shed
That cheers and well supports the fainting mind—
For, lo! the gates of bliss HE opens wide,
And welcomes ev'ry faithful Follower home!

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ADDRESS TO MY DAUGHTER,
ON ENTERING HER SEVENTEENTH YEAR.

GAY Health, fair Peace, and ev'ry blooming Joy
Be ever thine, dear Maid, without alloy;
Oft as revolving years shall bring this day,
O! may it still increasing bliss convey;
Long may thy breast be shielded from each care,
And Peace serene triumphant flourish there;
Let evil passions there no welcome find,
Nor with empoison'd venom taint thy mind;
In guileless ease may each gay moment flow,
While Hope's bright dreams illume thy cheerful brow;
Ah! prize her dreams—Ah! taste her fancied bliss,
For soon, too soon, the transient joy will cease.

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The rapid tide of youth will soon be o'er,
And years shall land thee on Life's busy shore.
There with applause wouldst thou perform thy part,
With Virtue's precepts now enrich thy heart;
First at RELIGION'S shrine devoutly bend,
And early make her guardian God thy friend,
She'll safely guide thee thro' the snares of youth,
And fix thy wav'ring steps in paths of truth;
Not in a garb severe, with awful frown,
Does Virtue sit on her resplendent throne;
Benign her form—gentle and mild her sway,
Thrice happy those who her blest laws obey;
Should dark afflictions cloud thy early days,
Thy sinking mind she'll ease, support, and raise,
Sweeten the bitter draught of human woe,
And teach thy anguish'd heart resign'd to bow:
Long may her sacred voice thy soul inspire,
And gently chasten ev'ry vain desire,

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Calm ev'ry troubled thought, and sweetly show
The placid joys that from her counsels flow;
Kept by the hand of her unerring pow'r,
In safety shalt thou pass each dang'rous hour;
And when thine early days their course have sped,
And all the fleeting dreams of youth are fled,
In age mature, thy breast will calmly glow
With peaceful joy, and all the hopes that flow
From conscious rectitude, from Wisdom's ways,
A life devoted to thy Maker's praise!
Then—when the sands of life are fairly run,
Shall calm Reflection gild thy setting Sun,
Chase the dark gloom of hoary age away,
And light thy path to Heav'n's ETERNAL DAY!

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ON
THE GOODNESS OF GOD,
IN THE REDEMPTION OF MANKIND.

DEAR sacred theme—how precious to our hearts!
How great the gift which Love Divine imparts—
When plung'd in sin, when lost in error's road,
Through darkest scenes of Pagan guilt we trod;
When lost to ev'ry hope beyond the grave,
No eye to pity, no kind hand to save;
No sov'reign pow'r in earth or Heav'n we knew,
To cleanse our sins, or form our souls anew—
Then Mercy sweet, descending from the Throne,
To lost degen'rate man made pardon known;
Their great Creator's wond'rous Love, which gave
His only Son our ruin'd race to save!—

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He came—aside his Heav'nly Glories laid,
Assum'd our flesh, and to the world display'd
The blest Perfections of th' Eternal Mind,
His Pow'r Supreme, his Goodness unconfin'd!
By ev'ry soft endearing mode he strove
To raise from sin the objects of his Love;
Taught us those Truths whence sacred pleasures rise,
And bade us look to Mansions in the Skies!
What tho' no more his heav'nly voice we know,
Nor from his lips can hear persuasion flow,
Yet the great promis'd Mission is fulfill'd,
And boundless Grace is thro' his name reveal'd!
The Gospel's mine—the volume richly fraught
With all the doctrines my Redeemer taught;
Bless'd be our God that we this treasure know,
That o'er this land its richest blessings flow;
That, free'd from danger, free'd from anxious fear,

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We may its kind, its solemn precepts hear;
Long may this book its light diffuse around!
Long may the nations glory in the sound!
Arise! thou Sun of Righteousness, and shed
Thy rays on lands by darkness overspread—
Dispel the mists of ignorance and vice,
And make the heathen nations to rejoice—
Hasten that blest—that great—that promis'd hour.
When ALL shall feel the Gospel's sacred pow'r;
When ALL shall ONE Eternal God adore,
And the REDEEMER'S Praise resound from shore to shore!

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ON
THE STORM, NEW YEAR'S MORN, 1779.

WRITTEN AT LOWESTOFT, SUFFOLK.

WITH weeping eyes, with awe, and solemn thought
I view the havoc which the Storm hath wrought;
Fearful the scene, and terrible the sight,
No tranquil objects now my steps invite—
If to my dear-lov'd haunts I'd bend my way,
Nor grove, nor gentle current, courts my stay;
Around confusion reigns, whilst at the sound
Of boist'rous winds yet shakes th'affrighted ground;
Torn from the roots, the plants of tender age,
Alas! unequal to the tempest's rage,

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Falling in wild disorder o'er the land,
Are rudely scatter'd with the drifted sand;
The oak, whose venerable trunk withstood
An hundred years the winds and stormy flood,
Full in the prime of high majestic strength
Stretches along his vast extended length!
Nor does the shatter'd forest only groan,
Cities and towns re-echo back the moan;
Dismantled roofs and prostrate steeples lie
Memorials of this sad calamity!
Happy had earth alone sad cause to weep,
Nor the fierce whirlwind reach'd the mighty deep.
Language is poor—its pow'rs, alas! are faint,
The horrors of the sky and seas to paint;
The swelling surges round tremendous rise,
And seem to meet the low'ring, black'ning skies!
Seamen the presage feel with anxious fear;
Increasing gloom proclaims the tempest near;

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And soon aghast, in anguish mute, they stand;
In vain the friendly beacon from the land,
Warns them of shoals, and marks the treach'rous sand.
Fruitless is skill, fruitless the Pilot's care,
The unyielding helm he quits in deep despair;
Driven by the wind's resistless power,
Their barks are dash'd on the opposing shore—
Engulph'd they sink, billows and reefs between,
And Death attends to close the mournful scene!
But who can speak the horrors of the soul
In this dread hour, when Conscience ope's the roll
Of crimes uncancell'd—numberless and great,
And tells them now repentance comes too late?
Urg'd by a hope still bord'ring on despair,
To Heav'n they raise their almost hopeless pray'r;
Prophan'd before that Pow'r which could them save,

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But now they dread his wrath beyond the grave.
Ah! were these horrors prelude to no more,
Might Death but waft them to an happier shore—
But hush—rash Muse! nor daringly pretend
To say, how far shall pard'ning grace extend—
How dost thou know but in the last sad hour
These suff'rers found sweet Mercy link'd with Pow'r;
That prayer was heard, and Jesus' boundless love,
Their parting spirits bore to worlds above?
Ah! were it thus—mine eyes no more would weep,
Nor cast one pensive look towards the deep—
But smiles of gladness should my brows adorn,
And joyful welcomes hail the NEW YEAR'S morn!

Page [33]

ON
PERUSING SOME LINES,
Written at an early Age.

WHILE these gay lines, long written, I peruse,
What scenes—awaken'd Memory renews;
Since that sweet moment, when, with careless hand
The feelings of a youthful heart I pen'd;
Blest period! A stranger then to care,
A world unknown I drew in colours fair;
My fancy glow'd with ev'ry prospect bright,
And pictur'd scenes of pure unmix'd delight;
Visions still charming, whither are ye fled?
Why—was my erring judgment by you led?

Page 34

Why did not kind Religion lend her aid,
And o'er the dear delusion cast a shade?
She did—but ardent feelings, highly wrought,
Could not submit to just and sober thought;
Through mediums false I view'd each earthly joy,
And talk'd of happiness without alloy:
Thus unprepar'd each ill in life to bear,
I enter'd on a world of anxious care,
Left the dear bosom of my native home,
O'er distant seas, in Western climes, to roam!
Vainly I pictur'd scenes of heart-felt peace,
Alas! too soon I felt th' illusion cease;
There Luxury reigns,—there Dissipation dwells,
Riot exults, and Wealth its treasure swells;
Not such the joys they gave I sigh'd to know,
From purer streams I hop'd my bliss to flow.
Tranquil enjoyments, health, and social love,
These dear delights I long'd in vain to prove;

Page 35

Alas! Disease and Death my inmates were,
Nor Peace nor Pleasure could my bosom share;
And Disappointment did each step attend,
And blasted all the promis'd joys I'd plann'd.
Nor for myself alone I sorrow knew,
A suff'ring race my ev'ry feeling drew;
How has my heart oft bled with sharpest pain,
And wish'd to meliorate their woes in vain!
From dreadful bondage long'd to set them free,
And burst the chains of cruel slavery!
Detested fiend—whose steps with blood are stain'd,
Whose iron empire is by guilt maintain'd!
Can Freedom's sons, who boast her gen'rous laws,
Can they encourage vile Oppression's cause?
BRITONS be nobly just—sever her bands,
Nor hold those wretched victims in your hands—
Raise them from earth, teach them as men to know

Page 36

The lively hopes that from the Gospel flow—
The time will come when an avenging God,
On tyranny shall lay an angry rod—
When the poor suff'rers shall that Mercy gain,
Which from oppressors long they've sought in vain.
Blest hour! when ev'ry wrong redress'd shall be,
And virtue triumph—o'er iniquity.
With joy I quitted that unhappy land,
And fondly hop'd my sorrows there would end;
With sweet emotion press'd my native shore,
And gaily thought each bliss was now in store;
Delusive thought! through each succeeding year,
None—none—I've found, my sinking mind to cheer;
Woes still on woes increasing have I known,
Joyless with me life's brightest days have flown;
Yet the same kind, all good, all gracious Pow'r,
Which gives the calm—still guides the troubled hour;

Page 37

His sure support has been my constant stay,
Through all the storms of my tempestuous day;
Nor widowed, does my trembling heart despair,
The helpless are his most peculiar care;
On a firm ROCK I lean where-e'er I go,
GOD is my Refuge in each scene of woe!

Page [38]

Page [39]

ON REDEEMING LOVE.

Written at Midnight, 1801.

WHILE solemn silence reigns around,
And sleep forsakes mine eyes;
O! may my heart to thee, my God,
With gratitude arise!

The bounties of thy hand I feel,
Around my path they flow;
And ev'ry moment as it comes,
Fresh blessings doth bestow.

But if these mercies wond'rous are,
And claim my grateful lays,
How rich—how greater far are those
Redeeming love displays!

Page 40

Redeeming love!—how dear the sound!
From hence my comforts flow;
This is the spring of all the joys
My soul can ever know.

Glory to God in heights above,
And gentle peace on earth;
These sweet, these bless'd angelic strains,
Proclaim'd the Saviour's birth!

Enslav'd by vice, in deepest gloom
We wretched captives lay;
The SAVIOUR comes—and light divine
Sheds a refulgent ray!

The Saviour comes—let distant winds
Convey the joyful sound;
The Saviour comes—to dwell on earth,
And blessings flow around!

Page 41

The prison gates he opens wide;
He sets the pris'ners free;
From dungeons deep he drew our souls
To Life and Liberty!

Glory to thee—thou great Supreme!
For this best gift of love;
Since thou thy best beloved sent,
From blissful realms above.

To do thy will, my God, he came,
Aside his glories laid;
And in the humble form of man,
Infinite love display'd!

With love that knew no bounds he came,
A sinful world to save;
And his own precious life bestow'd
To raise us from the grave.

Page 42

No thorns nor briars now perplex
The humble Christian's road;
One clear and shining path is left,
The path which Jesus trod.

May I his sacred footsteps trace,
As I march on my way!
While those bless'd marks I keep in view,
My feet shall never stray.

Yet, Lord! I weak and feeble am;
Too oft this erring heart,
Though bless'd with ev'ry light divine,
Still from thy ways depart.

Too oft the world, and all its cares,
Obtrude upon my mind;
And I forget, a pilgrim here,
'Tis not my home design'd.

Page 43

Yes—my Redeemer's gone on high,
Bright mansions to prepare,
For those who his blest precepts keep,
And humble followers are.

To fountains there, of sweet delight,
The Lamb himself shall lead;
While living streams of purest bliss,
Shall from the Throne proceed!

There let me raise my every thought,
And look to joys above,
Where I shall sing, in endless strains,
My GOD—my SAVIOUR'S love!

Page [44]

Page [45]

PARAPHRASE.

What is the Almighty that we should serve him? and what profit should we have if we pray unto him?
JOB, chap. xxi. v. 15.

SHALL Sinners dare to question thus,
And we make no reply;
Nor tell them who th' Almighty is,
Whom they their praise deny?

HE is the great Eternal One,
In whom we live and move;
That God, who ev'ry hour displays
Kind tokens of his love.

Page 46

His Providence our footsteps guard,
'Tis he supplies our food;
To him we owe our social joys,
Each dear—each heart-felt good!

When wasting sickness lays us low,
And human aid is vain,
Then doth our great Almighty Friend
Restore our health again!

There was a time, when, wholly lost,
In folly's maze we stray'd;
And to strange gods of wood and stone,
Our humble off'rings paid.

A pitying GOD beheld our state,
And saw we hopeless were;
Then his own arm salvation brought,
And rais'd us from despair.

Page 47

He sent his only Son on earth,
Kind Messenger of Love!
To clear the darkness sin had made,
And shew the path above!

Thus brought immortal life to light;
His Father's will made known
That to bestow this heav'nly gift,
He must give up his own!

And shall we not adore this GOD,
Who such a Friend bestow'd;
From whose blest lips divinest truths,
And purest precepts flow'd?

Who made a path so plainly clear,
And trod himself the way;
Leaving a shining light to guide
Our feet, so apt to stray.

Page 48

Sweet is the profit here we feel
From serving our great Lord;
Vast are the promises in store,
To those who love his word!

In ev'ry scene of deep distress,
Our God, our Friend, is near;
To hours of darkness, light he gives,
And sinking spirits cheer.

The poor and friendless sweetly find
His mercies constant are;
The widow, and her orphan'd young,
May claim his promis'd care!

When sad afflictions hover round,
And sharpest grief we prove,
In the chastising stroke we view,
A Father's tender love!

Page 49

They draw us from th' alluring scenes
That would our bliss destroy;
They fit and purify our souls
For a bless'd world of joy!

Still as we tread life's chequer'd paths,
GOD is our constant guide;
His presence is our firm support,
Nor aught we want beside.

Not death can move our stedfast faith,
We still on him rely;
Assur'd th unmoral part shall rise
To joys beyond the sky!

Our sleeping dust shall be his care,
Till that great awful day;
When our Redeemer shall descend,
And all his pow'r display!

Page 50

Then shall we hear his sacred voice,
Awake, ye dead, and rise!
Awake, and meet the Lord you lov'd,
Descending from the skies!

Ye blessed come, and enter here;
Ye that did serve your Lord,
Behold the mansions I prepare,
For those who kept my word!

Our God, with kind and pitying hand,
Will wipe off ev'ry tear;
And his blest presence banish far
Each anxious trembling fear!

But who shall speak—what heart conceive,
The bliss we then shall know?
Pleasures immortal from his Throne,
In streams perennial flow!

Page 51

Each sacred joy we prize on earth,
Shall there all perfect be!
And Peace serene, with Love, shall reign
Through all ETERNITY!

Page [52]

Page [53]

THE FOLLY OF SCEPTICISM.

LET Scepticks boast their reasoning mind,
How vast! how free! how unconfin'd!
And thence conclusion draw,
They have an undisputed right
T'indulge a bold aspiring flight,
Unfetter'd by each law.

Yet, slaves to erring Passion's voice,
Its laws they make their stedfast choice,
And seek from thence a pow'r,
To sooth a weak and sickly frame,
Whom they, the God of Nature name,
And as their God adore!

Page 54

A being, fitted to their will,
They form, as pleas'd with good or ill,
As either bears the sway;
While ev'ry pow'r finds full employ,
To fill each hour with sensual joy,
Th' imperious will t'obey.

Hence dire disease, with all her train,
Of motley woes and sharpest pain,
That wrings the human breast;
Hence, too, the deep desponding mind
Looks round in vain, and seeks to find
A calm and peaceful rest.

Beneath the fetters that she chose,
She meets a train of growing woes,
And pleasures that decay;
From age she strives to shrink in vain;
She longs to taste of joy again,
And dreads the parting day.

Page 55

Passions indulg'd, they sadly find,
Have so debas'd their abject mind,
No future life they crave;
One only hope t'indulge they dare,
That death shall close their sorrows here,
In an eternal grave!

Is this the happiness they boast,
On Life's tempestuous ocean tost,
Without a pilot near,
To furl their sails in angry skies,
Through dang'rous storms that oft arise,
Their trembling barks to steer?

Sweet Revelation—Pow'r Divine!
The Pilot's gen'rous aid is thine,
From error thou art free!
The bark committed to thy care
Shall gently sail, without a fear,
Through Life's tempestuous sea!

Page 56

Blest Morning Sun!—thy heav'nly aid
Hath clear'd the darkness sin had made,
And shines with chearing ray;
From thee we learn how weak we are—
How prone, alas! is man to err,
And how unfit to sway!

By thee we view ONE GRACIOUS POW'R,
Who o'er the world his blessings show'r,
With kind and lib'ral hands;
A GOD, whose Mercy will approve
Those subjects, who their Saviour love,
And DO what he commands!

Page [57]

TO HOPE.

WRITTEN IN 1795.

DESCEND, sweet HOPE, thou soothing Pow'r!
From whom the wretched find,
In ev'ry dark afflictive hour,
Some solace to the mind.

What, though thy brightest prospects bring,
At best, a doubtful joy;
And oft, alas! Time's hasty wing
The opening buds destroy?

Yet, blest Companion of my life,
And balm of ev'ry ill;
Though vain, illusive are thy joys,
Be mine th' illusion still.

Page 58

When keen afflictions pierce the mind,
Mem'ry in vain displays,
And dwells on joys for ever fled,—
The joys of cloudless days;

Contrasts them with each present ill,
And tells how soon they cease;
While days of anguish slowly move,
And ev'ry grief increase,

O'erwhelm'd in deep unseen distress,
Ah! Mem'ry! from me fly,
Nor bring again my youthful days,
Those days of peace and joy;

When pining grief, and worldly care,
Were strangers to my heart,
Gayly I pass'd the laughing hours,
Nor thought they'd e're depart.

Page 59

How did my breast with Friendship glow,
Of Friends I'd not a few;
Alas! my bosom had not felt
How rare is Friendship true!

For now in cold neglect I weep;
No friend, with pitying eye,
Gently allays my anguish keen,
Or sooths the bursting sigh.

Around me, while my children press,
How does my heart o'erflow?
For them—for them, indeed, I feel
Extremity of woe!

Yet, gentle Hope! kind cheering Friend!
Art thou not present too?
Whilst fell Despair before thee flies,
And vanishes from view.

Page 60

Thy pow'r alone supports my mind,
Through ev'ry gloomy way;
Still pointing to the gentle calm
That ends the stormy day.

What though affliction's storm be long,
Yet with this life 'twill cease;
Time soon will bring me to the tomb,
Where I shall rest in peace.

But from the grave, that soon must close
Around my mould'ring clay,
My kind Conductress leads me on
To realms of endless day!

There all his dark mysterious ways,
My Father will reveal;
There shall I know 'tis Wisdom's self,
Prescribes whate'er I feel.

Page 61

The rugged path—the thorny road,
Which I so long have trod,
I then shall see were meant to raise
My wayward heart to God!

To fix my faith yet more secure,
On that unerring Pow'r,
"Which feeds the ravens when they cry,"
And decks the meanest flow'r!

Hope, too, shall lead me still to think
My children are his care;
Their num'rous wants he'll still supply,
Through each revolving year.

Father of HOPE, to thee I look,
In ev'ry gloomy hour;
Through darkest scenes, O! let me view
Thy Love, as well as Pow'r!

Page 62

Long as afflictions press me down,
May faith more firmly rise!
And see a hand, in ev'ry stroke,
Divinely good and wise!

Thy chast'ning rod, my GOD, I bless,
To thee myself resign;
Do what thy wisdom seeth best,
And let thy will be MINE!

Page 63

ADDRESS TO FRIENDS,
In Suffolk, on quitting them to visit others, in
Norfolk.

JANUARY, 1802.

OF all the Shrines at which we bow,
Sweet FRIENDSHIP'S most I prize;
She cheers the heart, delights our souls,
And gives substantial joys.

The anxious hours of life she calms,
And lulls each care to rest;
Softly our moments glide away,
When with her presence blest.

Scorn'd be the wretch, who never felt
Her kind, her gentle pow'r;
Whose heart sweet tenderness ne'er warms,
Who shuns the social hour.

Page 64

Confin'd within his narrow self,
Self shall his portion be;
While ev'ry gen'rous joy we know,
Far from his breast shall flee.

As o'er the stage of life we pass,
And diff'rent paths pursue;
Dear are the pleasures when we meet,
And Friendship's ties renew.

How sweetly does each heart expand,
With kind affection glow,
As we relate our tales of bliss,
Or sooth each others' woe.

But then again our paths divide,
And parting grief we feel;
Yet shall these happy days we've known,
Short separations—heal.

Page 65

Hard is their lot, who cannot oft
These dearest scenes renew;
Who, banish'd from the friends they love,
Mourning their paths pursue.

Not such the parting stroke I feel,
Friendship still with me goes;
Again her sacred torch relights,
And heart-felt joy bestows.

'Tis this all-bright'ning Pow'r that gilds
The current of our days;
That calms the adverse storms of life,
And hopes immortal raise!

Leads our aspiring thoughts on high,
To that bless'd peaceful shore;
Where friends, who dearly lov'd on earth,
Shall meet to part no more!

Page 66

The fond affections Nature gives,
Shall there for ever cease;
But FRIENDSHIP reigns increasing still,
Her children's boundless bliss!

O! may we feel her ever near!
May she our steps pervade—
In ev'ry grief she'll mingle joy,
And light in ev'ry shade.

When recollection fondly brings
Those hours I now have pass'd,
Bright Hope points upward to the place,
Where they'll for ever last!

And now she softly whisp'ring says,
Again our paths will meet;
Again my much-lov'd friends on earth,
I shall with pleasure greet.

Page 67

Though all our joys uncertain are,
And promis'd bliss is vain;
Hope's soothing words my spirits cheer,
"We part to meet again!"

Page [68]

Page [69]

THE ROSES.

FROM Nature's book I love to draw
The pure, the moral lay;
There's not a Flower that meets my eye,
But Wisdom doth convey.

Within my Garden's sweet retreat,
Two beauteous Roses grew;
Alike their early buds disclos'd,
Tints of the brightest hue.

Surrounded by each Flow'ret gay,
One grew with tow'ring pride;
Though all around her—brightly shone,
None with her beauties vy'd.

Page 70

Expanding fair, alas! she stood
Too much expos'd to view;
The Sun's bright beams impair'd her charms,
Ere yet matur'd they grew.

The blushing damask of her leaves,
I saw it early fade;
Encircled by the gay she droop'd,
And faintly sunk her head.

And thus, ye fair, the moral speaks—
Beware of Fashion's pow'r;
Nor in those circles pass your bloom,
Where pleasure fills each hour.

Gay splendid scenes too soon will fade,
And Health, alas! will fly
The maid—expos'd in midnight rounds,
To ev'ry gazing eye!

Page 71

The other Rose, with gentle mien,
Shrinking from common view,
Shelter'd beneath a spreading elm,
In calm retirement grew.

Its fragrance fill'd the balmy air,
In glowing tints array'd;
Softly it drew th' admiring eye,
And Beauty's worth display'd.

It flourish'd long, and gently sunk,
Diffusing sweets around;
The dropping leaves unfaded fell,
And scented all the ground.

So shall the Nymph, retir'd from view,
With modest graces shine;
Nor shall her charms neglected be,
Or unadmir'd decline.

Page 72

Beneath the dear and shelt'ring roof
Of kind parental care,
The Man of Worth will ever find,
BEAUTY most lovely there!

With Truth and Goodness beams the eye,
Unus'd abroad to rove;
And Health unfaded shall be theirs,
Who far from crowds remove!

There shall each virtue, most belov'd,
With sweetest fragrance bloom;
And when the lovely Flow'r decays,
'Twill leave a rich perfume!

Page [73]

THE
CAPTIVE BIRD'S PETITION TO DELIA
FOR LIBERTY.

Written in August, 1780.

AH! Delia! canst thou bear, unmov'd,
My constant plaints to hear;
Nor can the suff'rings of thy bird,
Call forth one pitying tear?

Its said—thou gentle art and kind,
Nor cruel deeds canst bear;
That softest passions sway thy mind,
And Love inhabits there.

Page 74

Why then unfeeling dost thou prove,
And act the tyrant's part?
Ah! why confine a harmless bird?
Why wound a suff'ring heart?

Where is the mate I fondly lov'd,
With whom I us'd to share,
The highest bliss that birds can prove,
Nor felt a single care?

We were the happiest of our kind,
And every shady grove
Has often witness'd to our tales,
The tales of mutual Love.

But, now, alas! the grief I feel,
No more her voice I hear;
Perhaps e'en now in death she's cold,
Nor learnt my loss to bear.

Page 75

But, O! my children! where are they—
The pledges of our joy?
For them the soften'd grain I stor'd,
And did each hour employ.

Who now will feed their infant mouths,
And train them up for flight?
There's none that can, like parents, feel,
In ev'ry task delight.

Perhaps with them their mother pines,
Nor dares for food to roam,
Lest hungry prowling vultures find
Their unprotected home.

Perhaps, but, O! distracting thought!
Some boys have found the nest;
And torn my offspring far away,
From their dear mother's breast!

Page 76

Ah! mournful day!—ah! luckless hour!
When Strephon brought me here;
For this kind token of his love,
I keenest anguish bear.

Hadst thou, sweet Maid, but set me free?
Think of the joys we'd known;
In mutual love—in mutual cares,
Each hour had lightly flown.

Grateful, fair Delia, then had been
My ever constant praise;
And ev'ry bird for thee I'd call'd,
Their highest notes to raise!

Come, then, my poignant grief remove,
In pity set me free!
For comfort only can I find
In Love and Liberty!

Page 77

Could some rich Monarch's cruel will
Draw thee from Strephon's breast;
Say, would his Palace give thee joy,
Or down afford thee rest?

If every gift he did bestow,
And yet thyself detain—
How wouldst thou hate his slavish yoke,
And strive to break his chain?

Like me, within this little cage,
Fluttering—to be free,
THOU, in the regal dome, wouldst find
The loss of Liberty!

Do not that Freedom, then, restrain,
Which must thy bliss destroy;
Though short this tender life must be,
Yet let me Life—ENJOY!

Page [78]

Page [79]

TO SLEEP.

COME, gentle Sleep!—refresher of my frame!
And calm my mind with ev'ry soothing dream;
Banish each sorrow from my troubled breast,
And let me feel a visionary rest—
Oft in those hours when Fancy wings her flight,
Converse most dear, beguiles the dreary night;
Then the kind friends, by death, alas! remov'd,
Those friends I once so dearly, fondly lov'd,
Are present with me, bless my mental sight,
And sweet illusions ev'ry sense delight;
Ah! short-liv'd joy—soon does the magic cease,
The charm's dissolved, and I am lost to peace—

Page 80

I pass the dawn, to wretchedness a prey,
And dread th' approach of each succeeding day;
In thy kind arms alone, sweet Sleep, I find
A transient ease to my distracted mind—
Come, then! and chase each sorrow from my breast,
And bless with gentlest dreams my hours of rest!

Page [81]

On hearing the Bells ringing in the New Year.

1796.

WHILST sons of glee, with giddy mirth, prepare,
In senseless joy, to hail the dawning year;
I, weeping, bid the parting months adieu,
And dare not welcome the approaching new;
What anguish'd scenes are yet for me in store,
What rugged paths I yet must journey o'er
Are all unknown—thus far no cheering sun,
On my dejected steps has mildly shone—
No gloomy hours, illum'd with beaming light,
Dark is my day, and dreary is my night—
Afflictions keen oppress my troubled breast,
And my worn mind can find no transient rest;
Visions of bliss awake no more my care;
Hope leaves me now the prey of wan despair!

Page [82]

Page [83]

TO RESIGNATION.

BLEST RESIGNATION, soothing is thy pow'r!
Thou sweetly calmst the most tempest'ous hour!
'Tis thou reviv'st the sadly drooping heart;
Thou dost a balm to deepest wounds impart!
To Mercy's Throne thou lead'st the anguish'd mind,
And shew'st a pitying Father, good and kind;
Who, not in anger, sends his awful rod,
But in each stroke is still the present God.
With grateful, sweet delight 'tis thine to trace
The blest, endearing promises of grace;
Thy pow'r in our all-perfect Lord to shew,
And bring his bright example to our view:
O! taught by him, each murmur be suppress'd,
And thou, sweet Pow'r, alone possess my troubled breast.

Page [84]

Page [85]

TO THE MEMORY OF A CHILD.

On seeing a small Spot of Ground kept sacred to the Memory of an only and very promising Child, who planted it, but was cut off at Seven Years of Age.

THRIVE, ye fair flow'rs!—in gayest beauty bloom;
Around still breath your richest, best perfume;
And ever as the pensive mother's care,
Weeds the unhallow'd plants that dare appear;
With fragrance sweet, in gentle whispers, tell
How bright he blooms on whom her sorrows dwell;
Tell her, ye fair and living emblems are,
Of him who planted ye with infant care;

Page 86

That as ye flourish, and fresh charms acquire,
To their perfection too his pow'rs aspire;
That when th' appointed months their course have run,
Matur'd in virtue she shall meet her Son,
No more the victim of enfeebling pain;
Nor e'er to feel the Sting of Death again!—

Page [87]

WRITTEN ON
A MOON-LIGHT NIGHT.

ETERNAL MAKER! who can view
This vast expanse on high;
And not direct their thoughts to thee,
Who form'd this beaut'ous sky?

The gentle Moon's sweet soften'd light,
The starry worlds that shine,
To cheer the gloomy hours of night,
Proclaim thy hand divine!

This sweet employ be ever mine,
To trace thy wond'rous pow'r;
To read thy name in seas, in skies,
Or in the budding flower!

Page 88

While I these works admiring view,
I'll raise my thoughts on high,
Where brighter scenes shall yet unfold,
Beyond this starry sky!

No Sun there needs to gild the day,
Nor Moon to cheer the night;
'Tis ONE ETERNAL BLAZING NOON,
And GOD himself THE LIGHT!

Page [89]

THE WIDOW'S PRAYER.

Give us this Day our daily Bread.
Written October, 1802.

TO thee, my God, I daily look,
And on thy care rely;
For all the blessings that I need,
Thou hourly dost supply!

Ample provision hast thou made
For ev'ry creature here;
The rich profusion of the earth,
All were design'd to share!

Page 90

Then let me not, in thoughtless ease,
Abuse the gifts of heav'n;
Nor idly waste that precious store,
Which for the world is giv'n.

Let not the worm thy bounty feeds,
Proudly erect its head;
Nor dare forget—it waits on thee
To give it daily bread.

For who amongst the sons of wealth,
Can say, I firmly stand;
And the vast treasures I possess
Shall to my heirs descend?

The glitt'ring wealth his hands have heap'd,
Another shall enjoy;
And Palaces his pride erects,
A stranger shall destroy!

Page 91

Wealth, like the chaff before the storm,
Is scatter'd in an hour;
'Tis thine t'abase th' aspiring rich!
And thine t'exalt the poor!

Alike dependant on thy pow'r,
Through Life's frail path we go;
Uncertain what to-morrow brings,
A scene of bliss or woe.

Resign'd to thee, then, may I walk,
Nor anxious thoughts bestow;
Assur'd my joys and sorrows too,
From Love parental flow!

With grateful heart let me retrace
My Father's tender care;
And mark, in ev'ry trying scene,
That Father ever near!

Page 92

The bitter hours of woe I've pass'd,
Shall future trust inspire;
And past experience give my mind,
The strength it may require.

Should ev'ry outward comfort fail,
Yet will I not despair;
My widow'd heart shall cleave to thee,
And trust thy promis'd care.

Then patient wait the joyful hour,
When sins and sorrows end;
And the freed spirit to its God;
Triumphant shall ascend!

There shall these infant pow'rs of mind,
A full expansion prove;
And see, in each mysterious way,
The guiding hand was—LOVE!

Page [93]

FUTURE HAPPINESS,
A SUPPORT UNDER AFFLICTIONS.

1797.

WHILE cares unnumber'd round me press,
Fain would my spirit find,
Some kind, some gently healing balm,
To ease my anxious mind.

Fondly and eager I pursue
Some fresh delusive bliss;
The airy phantom mocks my grasp,
And flies my fond embrace!

Page 94

Oh! 'tis in vain the weary mind
Thus seeks for Peace below;
Her sweet abode is never found
Amid the scenes of woe!

But there's a world to which I haste,
Where woes were never known;
Where Peace and Joy eternal bloom,
Around my Father's throne!

Still as I tread Life's rugged path,
And heave the anxious sigh;
My soul shall there her comfort find,
My Hopes be fix'd on high!

No more the lab'ring heart shall beat,
With heavy laden sighs;
Nor tears of sad Repentance there,
Swim in the Mourner's eyes.

Page 95

There every thought, refin'd from sin,
In harmony shall move;
And all my passions sweetly glow
With warm adoring Love!

With God, my Father, I shall dwell,
And feel his pard'ning grace;
Shall join the saints in sweetest praise,
Who see him face to face!

His smile shall raise my drooping soul,
With long-lorn cares opprest;
While as I lean my weary head,
On my REDEEMER'S breast!

Oh! Hope Divine! Ye cares begone!
Be hush'd the anguish'd sigh!
All my desires and hopes are lost,
In this—ETERNITY!

Page [96]

Page [97]

ON SPRING.

Addressed to my Daughter, Nine Years of Age.

INVITED by the early Spring,
Maria, let us trace
Her gentle steps, which all around
Stern Winter's gloom efface.

The moisten'd ground, by her imprest,
Is rob'd in lively green;
She softly breathes, and leafless trees
In gayest bloom are seen!

Page 98

Th' enamell'd fields will soon present
A carpet to our sight,
Richly adorn'd with ev'ry tint,
That can the eye delight;

The lambs shall crop the herbage sweet,
And playful sport around;
Whilst flocks and herds reposing lay
Upon th' embroider'd ground;

The trees, with lovely flow'rs o'erspread,
Shall sweetest fruit soon bear;
The warbling birds shall sip the juice,
And insects riot there.

Think not, my child, for man alone
Kind Nature's stores are giv'n;
There's not a creature bless'd with life,
But is the care of Heav'n.

Page 99

With us they feel the joys of spring,
Partake the purest food;
Like us they breathe the fragrant air,
And taste each varied good,

But we can reason, we can trace
An high—an heav'nly Pow'r;
In ev'ry tender spire of grass,
In ev'ry budding flow'r!

To Nature's God then let us turn,
With grateful hearts adore
That Goodness which for ALL provides,
Such kind, such lib'ral store.

In childhood love his holy name,
In youth sound forth his praise;
To him your best, your guardian friend,
Devoted be your days!

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So shall MARIA'S Spring be blest,
Thy Summer bright be found;
And the fair Autumn of thy life,
With richest fruits abound!

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THE CHERRY-TREE.

On seeing the Bloom of a beautiful double-blossomed Cherry Tree* entirely shed, after a few Days' Absence from my Garden.

IN Beauty's fairest vest array'd,
How lately shone this tree;
"My Garden's Pride," I fondly said,
"Henceforward thou shalt be."

"From thy fair sister's meaner bloom,
I careless pass away;
Thy sweeter, richer, beauties claim
The homage that I pay.

[Note *:]
The Double-blossomed Cherry Tree does not bear Fruit.

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Thy lovely snowy blossoms draw
My steps with magic pow'r;
While, with enraptur'd gaze, I view
Each sweet expanded Flow'r!"

Thus did I speak, nor thought this bloom
The beauty of a day;
Its open'd foliage look'd so fair,
I thought not of decay.

But not a vestige now remains,
Of my late fav'rite tree;
Her snowy vestments all around,
In scatter'd heaps I see!

Transient has been her lovely bloom,
Each nameless grace is fled;
In Fancy's eye, I see my tree
Sink her dejected head.

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And well dejected may she view
Her sisters smile around;
For though no blossoms now they boast,
With them fair fruit is found.

Rebuk'd I stand, who thus could turn
From real worth my eyes;
And to that worth a Flow'r prefer,
Which only blooms and dies.

Then let this moral be impress'd
Upon the youthful mind;
The fairest blossom worthless is,
That leaves not fruit behind.

And, O! ye Parents! watch with care,
Each tender budding flow'r;
Nor to those charms direct your praise,
Which wither in an hour.

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Soon will that lovely bloom decay,
Which we so fondly prize;
And the most sweet attractive grace,
How soon, alas—it flies!

But where the gen'rous thought expands,
Where Truth's sweet buds appear;
Her sacred Flow'rs, from noxious blights,
O! guard with watchful care.

Let not gay Folly hover round,
And taint the sweet perfume;
O! from alluring vice protect
This dear immortal bloom.

When the gay scene of youth is o'er,
And sweetest Flow'rs decay;
The richest fruits will then appear;
And all our cares repay.

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This precious fruit not time destroys,
Age does each charm improve;
And when the tree is laid in dust,
The fruit will soar above!

Transplanted to a fairer clime,
It there shall richer be;
And ev'ry beauty still improve,
Through all ETERNITY!

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LINES,
Accompanying the PRESENT of a BOSOM-FRIEND.

SURE 'tis the dearest gift that Heav'n bestows,
A Bosom-Friend to heal corroding woes;
Gently to sooth the anxious hours of care,
And in our joys or ills to claim a share;
Call'd by this sacred name th' inclos'd I send,
Long may it prove a warm and faithful friend;
Guard from each baneful air Evander's breast,
And still more firmly cleave as longer press'd.
Just emblem this of a true Bosom-Friend,
Whose kind attentions never know an end;
By time attach'd, endear'd, cemented more,
'Tis then a loss we feelingly deplore.

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Ne'er may Evander know this blessing cease,
But added years his ev'ry joy increase!
May his lov'd Bosom-Friend no sorrows know,
But mutual pleasures round their footsteps flow;
May a dear smiling offspring, rising fair,
Gladden each day, and lighten ev'ry care!
Through flow'ring youth, thro' manhood's brighter days,
May they behold them treading Wisdom's ways;
Possest of all that dignifies the mind,
Knowledge and Taste, with Piety combin'd!
Reflected thus shall their own virtues shine,
While life's last hours in gentlest Peace decline;
Then Heav'n to worlds of bliss shall both remove,
Where Bosom-Friends—no separation prove!

Page [109]

THE TRIUMPHS OF BENEVOLENCE,

OR,
The Success of the Vaccine Inoculation.

O'ER Britain's realms a plague long fiercely rag'd,
Nor time, nor skill, nor medicine had assuag'd;
Where'er its dread contagious course it sped,
Th' affrighted people from their houses fled;
The suff'rers without a friend were left,
Of ev'ry soothing tenderness bereft;
In mournful language ancient records tell,
What millions 'neath the dire distemper fell!
How villages and towns deserted were,
And life a scene of one continu'd fear!

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Then, Montague* , whose name will ever stand
High in the annals of a grateful land,
From foreign climes relief her country brought,
On her own son perform'd the art she taught;
Yet prejudice, deep rooted, long withstood
The private interest—the public good,
Till years its great utility display'd,
And thousands bless'd its kind and soft'ning aid.
But some e'en here the wretched victims fell,
Nor anxious parents could their fears dispel;
All now are vanish'd, see contagion flies—
Nor SMALL POX more shall close the sparkling eyes;
Beauty no more shall mourn its transient date;
The feeling mind, with grateful joy elate,
To JENNER looks, whose philanthropic zeal
Bent to one ardent point his country's weal,

[Note *:]
It is well known, that the celebrated Lady Wortley Montague first introduced Inoculation for the Small Pox into Great Britain.

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O'er ev'ry obstacle pursues his way,
And makes false notions bend to Reason's sway;
By long experience proves his Vaccine plan
Replete with salutary aid to man.
Fear not, ye cautious—here's a pow'r divine;
JENNER but executes Heav'ns vast design!
Behold your pitying Father's healing hand,
In this mild system, to a suff'ring land—
Let prejudice be banish'd from your mind;
Embrace, with joy, this blessing to mankind!
See—its great fame extends to distant lands,
Whilst ENGLAND'S KING, the Pow'rful Patron, stands!
Blest with his MONARCH'S praise, his COUNTRY'S love,
JENNER deserved happiness shall prove;
No thousands slain, no dreadful victories won,
Shall gild his calm, his gently setting sun;

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Millions he's sav'd—far sweeter joys convey,
With lustre bright shall close his peaceful day;
Nor in the grave shall he neglected lie,
Rever'd, belov'd, his mem'ry cannot die!
When FUTURE AGES shall high trophies raise
To those who best deserv'd their country's praise,
And worth departed—claims the tribute just;
To JENNER, then—shall 'rise the honor'd bust;
On its broad base shall shew the wond'ring throng
The dreadful scourge that nations bore so long;
Here mothers, shudd'ring, shall the horrors view,
Which from this dread disease their parents knew;
With tearful eyes—with grateful love imprest,
Shall clasp their beaut'ous offspring to their breast,
With sweet emotion feel their bosoms glow,
That no such sorrows they are doom'd to know;
Then 'round his shrine weave the ne'er-fading bays,
And to his Mem'ry pour—IMMORTAL LAYS!

Page [113]

ELEGIAC LINES,
ON THE
DEATH of CHARLES FREDERIC FLOWERDEW,
Who died November 29th, 1802,
Aged 21 Years* .

'TIS past—the solemn, dreadful conflict's o'er,
And I—my MUCH-LOV'D SON must see no more!
That kind—that gentle voice no longer hear,
Whose tender accents sooth'd my ev'ry care;

[Note :]
The sudden removal of this excellent young man, (the Second Son of Mr. F. by a former Wife,) was awful and impressive. A fever seized him, amidst the height of his vigor and usefulness, and in the course of a few days, hurried him to his grave! He was interred at Worship Street;* where, the Sunday following, the Rev. JOHN EVANS, (who had attended him in his last moments,) preached his Funeral Sermon, from Ecclesiastes xiii. 1. Remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth, while the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh, when thou shalt say, I have no pleasure in them. His relatives and many friends, who were present, seemed suitably affected on the occasion. It is, indeed, much to be wished, that such afflictive dispensations were seriously improved by the rising generation.

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Hush'd all my griefs, and bade me live to prove
The dear delights that flow from filial love;
I felt them all—to me my much-lov'd Son,
Was each endearing relative in one!
What though for thee no mother's pangs I bore,
This but endears thy tenderness the more;
Speak ye, who feel—the richer joys, who know
That not from Nature, but Affection flow!
Have ye, like me, rear'd up an infant race,
Seen them matur'd to fill an Husband's place,
Felt ev'ry sweet reward of anxious cares,
Beheld the prop of your declining years—

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Watch'd the fair bud expanding as it grew,
In full-blown beauty till it stood to view—
Then in one sad, unseen, afflictive hour,
Untimely cropt—beheld the lovely flow'r!
O! come and mingle all your griefs with me—
And shed the kindly tears of sympathy!
As changing Suns renew my chearless days,
How sad remembrance mournfully displays
The past-lov'd scenes to faithful mem'ry dear,
When thou, my CHARLES, my drooping mind wouldst chear!
Then did thy heart unfold its kind design,
Assure my fears my children should be thine;
That thou would'st to them ev'ry loss supply,
And guard thy sisters with a Father's eye;
How oft we've plan'd sweet days of future rest,
When with reward thy labours should be blest;

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When youthful toil its recompence should find,
And independance crown thy ardent mind!
O! these dear sounds! expressive of thy love,
No time can from my memory remove:—
"Not for myself I plan, nor will I know
"A joy, which Fortune's gifts can e'er bestow;
"No recompence of toil must smile on me,
"In which my MOTHER shall not sharer be!"
Fair were thy prospects! generous was thy love!
Thy fond affection often did I prove—
When deep-felt woes my sinking mind oppress'd,
How fondly on thy Friendship did I rest!
But now no more thy interest must I share;
'Tis fled—the sweetest solace of my care,
Cut down in all the pride of youthful bloom,
I've seen thee hurried to th' untimely tomb—
My fond aspiring hope for ever crost;
My Son, my Friend, my Help for ever lost!

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Oh! like a troubled dream the scene appears,
And mournful Fancy thy lov'd voice yet hears;
Hears thee, as stretch'd upon thy dying bed,
Imploring blessings on thy mother's head—
Ah! no!—A solemn stillness reigns around!
I list! but catch not e'en a murm'ring sound!
Too sure the parting stroke hath really been!
Too sure the grave hath clos'd the solemn scene!
Farewell! then, O! my much-lov'd CHARLES, farewell!—
Long will thy mother on thy virtues dwell;
Long will she cherish in her bleeding breast,
The memory of love by thee express'd!
Yes—and thy worth shall healing balm impart,
And whisper comfort to my anguish'd heart;
Perhaps the snares of this uncertain round,
For guileless truth like thine, too strong were found;

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From these, perhaps, thy heav'nly Father's love,
Pitying, remov'd thee to his courts above;
From vice untainted kept thy gen'rous breast,
And fix'd thee in his pure eternal rest!
Hush'd, then, be ev'ry grief!—GREAT GOD! bend—
Trials severe thou dost in mercy send!
Teach me to own thy just, thy righteous sway,
Kind when it gives, and when it takes away;
Oh! let thy presence calm my troubled mind!
My soul in thee its constant refuge find!
Patient I'll wait Life's hast'ning, closing day,
When a bright morn, with gladness, shall repay
My anguish keen—for there my streaming eyes
Shall weep no more!—no more, with deep drawn sighs,
My bosom heave;—but, lost in sacred peace,
In joy, in grateful praise, complaint shall cease!

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There I again my much-lov'd child shall see,
From ev'ry sin—from ev'ry frailty free;
There, on a bless'd, eternal, peaceful shore,
Hold him in long embrace—nor DEATH divide us more!

FINIS.

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