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Than yonder upstarts of the neighbouring wood,
But since, although well qualified by age
One man alone, the father of us all,
TO THE NIGHTINGALE,
WHICH THE AUTHOR HEARD SING ON NEW YEAR'S DAY, 1792,
WHENCE is it, that amazed I hear
From yonder wither'd spray,
The melody of May ?
And why, since thousands would be proud
Of such a favour shown,
To witness it alone ?
Sing’st thou, sweet Philomel, to me,
For that I also long
Though not like thee in song?
Of some divine command,
Of happier days at hand ?
And joyless year have I,
Beneath a wintry sky.
But Thee no wintry skies can harm,
Who only need'st to sing,
And every season Spring.
WRITTEN FOR INSERTION IN A COLLECTION OF HANDWRITINGS
AND SIGNATURES MADE BY MISS PATTY, SISTER OF HANNAH MORE.
MARCH 6, 1792.
In vain to live from age to age
While modern bards endeavour,
ON A FREE BUT TAME REDBREAST, A FAVOURITE OF
MISS SALLY HURDIS.
These are not dew-drops, these are tears,
And tears by Sally shed
With too much cause, is dead.
One morn he came not to her hand
As he was wont to come,
Picking his breakfast-crumb.
Alarm’d she call’d him, and perplext
She sought him, but in vain ;
Nor ever came again.
She therefore raised him here a tomb,
Though where he fell, or how,
Nor where he moulders now.
In social Robin's stead,
Or haply never shed.
Nor spiritlessly tame,
like theirs, his bosom cold,
SONNET TO WILLIAM WILBERFORCE, ESQ.
APRIL 16, 1792.
The country, Wilberforce, with just disdain,
Hears thee by cruel men and impious callid
Fanatic, for thy zeal to loose the enthrall’d From exile, public sale, and slavery's chain.
Friend of the poor, the wrong'd, the fetter-gall’d, Fear not lest labour such as thine be vain.
Thou hast achieved a part; hast gain'd the ear Of Britain's senate to thy glorious cause; Hope smiles, joy springs, and though cold caution pause
And weave delay, the better hour is near
That shall remunerate thy toils severe By peace for Afric, fenced with British laws. Enjoy what thou hast won, esteem and love From all the just on earth, and all the blest above.
(PRINTED IN THE NORTHAMPTON MERCURY.)
TO DR. AUSTIN,
OF CECIL STREET, LONDON,
MAY 26, 1792.
Austin! accept a grateful verse from me,
Friend of my friend'! I love thee, though unknown, And boldly call thee, being his, my own.