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The slow team creeks upon the road,
Whatever my faults, I may venture to say, The noisy whip resounds,
Hypocrisy never will come in your way. The driver's voice, his carol blithe,
I am upright, I hope; I am downright, I m clear! The mower's stroke, his whetting sithe,
And I think my worst foe must allow I'm sincere; Mix with the morning's sounds.
And if ever sincerity glow'd in my breast;
'Tis now when I swearWho would not rather take his seat
Beneath these clumps of trees, The early dawn of day to greet,
And catch the healthy breeze,
1. To him who simply thus recounts
COME, Disappointment, come! The morning's pleasures o'er,
Not in thy terrors clad; Fate dooms, ere long, the scene must close
Come in thy meekest, saddest guise; To ope on him no more.
Thy chastening rod but terrifies Yet, Morning! unrepining still
The restless and the bad. Hell greet thy beams awhile;
But I recline and surely thou, when o'er his grave
Beneath thy shrine,
(twine. Solemn the whispering willows wave,
And round ray brow resign'd, thy peaceful cypress Wilt sweetly on him smile;
Before thy hollow tread,
That tells her hopes are dead;
And though the tear
By chance appear,
Yet she can smile, and say, My all was not laid Addressed (during Illness) to a Lady.
Cume, Disappointment, come! DEAR Fanny, I mean, now I'm laid on the shelf,
Though from Hope's summit hurlid, To give you a sketch-ay, a sketch of myself.
Still, rigid Nurse, thou art forgiven, Tis a pitiful subject, I frankly confess,
For thou severe were sent from heaven, And one it would puzzle a painter to dress;
To wean me from the world : Bet however, here goes, and as sure as a gun,
To turn my eye 1'1 tell all my faults like a penitent nun;
From vanity, For I know, for my Fanny, before I address her, And point to scenes of bliss that never, never die. She wont be a cynical father confessor.
4. Come, come, 'twill not do! pat that purling brun What is this passing scene ? down;
A peevish April day! You can't, for the soul of you, learn how to frown. A little sun-a little rain, Well, first I premise, it's my honest conviction,
And then night sweeps along the plain, That my breast is a chaos of all contradiction;
And all things fade away. ReligiousDeistic-now loyal and warm;
Man (soon discuss'd) Then a dagger-drawn democrat hot for reform:
Yields up his trust, This moment a fop, that, sententious as Titus; And all his hopes and fears lie with him in the dust, Dernocritus now, and anon Heraclitus;
5. Now laughing and pleased, like a child with a rattle; Then Tex'd to the soul with impertinent tattle;
Oh, what is Beauty's power ? Now moody and sad, now unthinking and gay,
It flourishes and dies; To all points of the compass I veer in a day.
Will the cold earth its silence break,
To tell how soft how smooth a cheek I'm proud and disdainful to Fortune's gay child,
Beneath its surface lies? But to Poverty's offspring submissive and mild :
Mute, mute is all As rude as a boor, and as rough in dispute ;
O'er Beauty's fall;
(pall. Then as for politeness-oh! dear-I'm a brute ! Her praise resounds no more when mantled in her I show no respect where I never can feel it;
6. And as for contempt, take no pains to conceal it, And so in the suite, by these laudable ends,
The most beloved on earth I've a great many foes, and a very few friends.
Not long survives to-day;
So music past is obsolete, And yet, my dear Fanny, there are who can feel And yet 'twas sweet, 'twas passing sweet, That this proud heart of mine is not fashion'd like
But now 'tis gone away. steel.
Thus does the shade It can love (can it not ?)—it can hate, I am sure;
In memory fade, And it's friendly enough, tho' in friends it be poor.
When in forsaken tomb the form beloved is laid. Por itself though it bleed not, for others it bleeds
7. If it have not ripe virtues, I'm sure it's the seeds And though far from faultless, or even so-so,
Then since this world is vain, I think it may pass as our worldly things go.
And volatile, and fleet,
Why should I lay up earthly joys, Well, I've told you my frailtics without any gloss; Where dust corrupts, and moth destroye, Then as to my virtues, I'm quite at a loss!
And cares and sorrows eat? I think I'm devout, and yet I can't say,
Why fly from ill But in process of time I inay get the wrong way.
With anxious skill, I'm a general lover, if that's commendation,
When soon this hand will freeze, this throbbing And yet can't withstand, you kru whose
heart be still? But I find that amidst all my tricks and devices,
8. In fishing for virtues, I'm pulling up vices; So as for the good, why, if I possess it,
Come, Disappointment, come! I am not yet learned enough to express it.
Thou art not stern to me;
Sad Monitress! I own thy sway, You yourself must examine the lovelier side,
A votary sad in early day, And after your every art you have tried,
I bend my knee to thee.
From sun to sun
Here stay his steps, and call his children round,
And slowly spell the rudely sculptured rhymes,
I've mark'd with what a silent awe he'd spoken, On another paper are a few lines, written prob. With head uncover'd, his respectful manner. ably in the freshness of his disappointment.
And all the honours which he paid the grave,
And thought on cities, where even cemeteries, I DREAM no more-the vision flies away,
Eestrew'd with all the emblems of mortality, And Disappointment
Are not protected from the drunken insolence There fell my hopes-I lost my all in this,
Of wassailers profane, and wanton havoc. My cherish'd all ot visionary bliss.
Grant, Heaven, that here my pilgrimage may close Now hope farewell, farewell all joys below;
Yet, if this be denied, where'er my bones Now welcome sorrow, and now welcome wo. May lie-or in the city's crowded bounds, Plunge me in glooms
Or scatter'd wide o'er the huge sweep of waters
Or left a prey on some deserted shore His health soon sunk under these habits; he be- To the rapacious cormorant,- yet still, came pale and thin, and at length had a sharp fit (For why should sober reason cast away of sickness. On his recovery wrote the following A thought ich soot the
?)—yet still m lines in the church-yard of his favourite village.
In solemn rumination; and will smile
With joy that I have got my long'd release.
WRITTEN IN WILFORD CHURCH-YARD
On Recovery from Sickness.
A DIVINE POEM.
HERE would I wish to sleep.-This is the spot
Come, I will sit me down and meditate,
I would not have my corpse cemented down With brick and stone, defrauding the poor earth
Yet 'twas a silly thought, as if the body,
1. ISING the Cross :-Ye white-robed angel choirs,
Who know the chords of harmony to sweep,
[deep, Oh, now descend! and with your harpings Pouring sublime the full symphonious stream
Of music, such as soothes the saint's last sleep, Awake my slumbering spirit from its dream, And teach me how to exalt the high mysterious
II. Mourn! Salem, mourn! low lies thine humbled state,
ground! Thy glittering fanes are levell'd with the Fallen is thy pride - Thine halls are desolate! Where erst was heard the timbrel's sprightly
sound, And frolic pleasures tripp'd the nightly round, There breeds the wild fox lonely,-and aghast
Stands the mute pilgrim at the void profound, Unbroke by noise, save when the hurrying blast Sighs, like a spirit, deep along the cheerless waste.
Lie crumbling in the dust; for this forlom
While stern Destruction laughs, as if in scorn,
That thou didst dare insult God's eldest born; And, with most bitter persecuting ire,
Pursued his footsteps till the last day-dawn Rose on his fortunes and thou saw'st the fire That came to light the world, in one great flash
To paini the agonies that Jesus bore!
shore; While seraph hosts the lofty pæan pour, And Heaven enraptured lists the loud acclaim!
May a frail mortal dare the theme explore? May he to buman ears his weak song frame? Oh! may he dare to sing Messiah's glorious
High on a solium of the solid wave, Buoyant on clouds around your minstrel Prank'd with rude shapes by the fantastic frost, And give him eloquence who else were dumb, He stood in silence ;-now keen thoughts engrave And raise to feeling and to fire his note!
Dark figures on his front; and, tempest-toss'd And thou, Urania! who dost still devote
He fears to say that every hope is lost. Thy nights and days to God's eternal shrine,
Meanwhile the multitude as death are mute: Whose mild eyes "lumined what Isaiah So, ere the tempest on Malacca's coast, wrote,
Sweet Quiet, gently touching her soft lute, (pute. Throw o'er thy Bard that solemn stole of thine, Sings to the whispering waves the prelude to dis and clothe him for the fight with energy divine.
At length collected, o'er the dark Divan
The arch-tiend glanced, as by the Boreal blaze Satan o'ercome, fell down and 'throned
Their downcast brows were seen, and thus began there,
His fierce harangue:-“Spirits ! our better days The Son of God confess'd, in splendour shone;
Are now elapsed; Moloch and Belial's praise
Shall sound no more in groves by myriads trod. Swift as the glancing sunbeam cuts the air, Mad with defeat, and yelling his despair,
Lo! the light breaks The astonish'd nations For us is lifted high the avenging rod! (gaze!
For, spirits, this is He, this is the Son of God! Fled the stern king of Hell-and with the
XIV. glare Of gliding meteors, ominous and red,
" What then shall Satan's spirit crouch to fear? Shot athwart the clouds that gather'd round his
Shall he who shook the pillars of God's reign head.
Drop from his unnerved arm the hostile spear?
Madness! The very thought would make me VII.
To tear the spanglets from yon gaudy plain, Right o'er the Euxine, and that gulf which late
And hurl them at their Maker !_Fix'd as fate The rude Massagetæ adored, he bent
I am his Foe!-Yea, though his pride should His northering course, while round, in dusky state, (augment;
deign The assembling fiends their summond troops
To soothe mine ire with half his regal state, Clothed in dark mists, upon their way they
Still would I burn with fix'd, unalterable hate went,
XV. While, as they pass'd to regions more severe,
« Now hear the issue of my cursed emprize, The Lapland sorcerer swell'd with loud lament The solitary gale, and, fill'd with fear,
When from our last sad synod I took flight, The howling dogs bespoke unholy spirits near.
Buoy'd with false hopes, in some deep-laid due
this vaunted Holy One to write Where the North Pole, in moody solitude
His own self-condemnation ; in the plight Spreads her huge tracks and frozen wastes Of aged man in the lone wilderness, around,
Gathering a few stray sticks, I met his sight, There ice-rocks piled aloft, in order rude,
And, leaning on my staff, seem'd much to Form a gigantic hall, where never sound
cess. Startled dull Silence ear, save when profound What cause could mortal bring to that forlorn reThe smoke-frost mutter'd: there drear Cold for
[mound, Thrones him,--and, fix'd on his primæval
“ Then thus in homely guise I featly framed Ruin, the giant, sits; while stern Dismay way. My lowly speech :- Good Sir, what leads this Stalks like some wo-struck man along the desert
(blamed Your wandering steps ? must hapless chance be IX.
That you so far from haunt of mortals stray ?
Here have I dwelt for many a lingering day, In that drear spot, grim Desolation's lair, No sweet remain of life encheers the sight;
Nor trace of man have seen; but how ! me. The dancing heart's blood in an instant there
thought Would freeze to marble.--Mingling day and
Thou wert the youth on whom God's holy ray night
I saw descend in Jordan, when John taught (Sweet interchange, which makes our labours That he to fallen man the saving promise brought. Are there unknown; while in the summer skies
XVIL The sun rolls ceaseless round his heavenly hht,
«'I am that man,' said Jesus, I am He, Vor ever sets la from the scene he flies,
But truce to questions-Canst thou point my And leaves the long bleak night of half the year to To some low hut, if haply such there be
In this wild labyrinth, where I may meet
With homely greeting, and may sit and eat; X.
For forty days ( have tarried fasting here, Twas there, yet shuddering from the burning Hid in the dark glens of this lone retreat, lake,
And now I hunger; and my fainting ear
Longs much to greet the sound of fountains gushing When parting last he fondly hoped to shake
The unerring ways of Him whose eye can see Son of our God thou be'st, what need to seek The womb of Time, and, in its embryo pent,
For food from men -Lo! on these flint stones Discern the colours clear of every dark event.
Bid them be bread! Open thy lips and speak, XI.
And living rills from yon parch'd rock will Here the stern monarch stay'd his rapid flight, Instant as I had spoke, his piercing eye (break. And his thick hosts, as with a jetty pall,
Fix'd on my face;-the blood forsook my cheek, Hovering obscured the north star's peaceful light, I could not bear his gaze ;--my mask slipp'd by;
Waiting on wing their haughty chieftain's call. I would have shunn'd his look, but had not power He, meanwhile, downward, with a sullen fall,
to fly. Dropp'd on the echoing ice. Instant the sound
XIX of their broad vans was hush'd, and o'er the hall,
“ Then he rebuked me with the holy wordVast and obscure, the gloomy cohorts bound,
Accursed sounds! but now my native pride Till wedged in ranks, the seat of Satan they sur- Return'd, and by no foolish qualm deterr'd, round
I bore him from the mountain's woody side,
Up to the summit, where extending wide
High on the shrouds the spirit that com
The ocean-farer's life; so stiff-so sear Kingdoms and cities, palaces and fanes, Bright sparkling in the sunbeams, were des- Stood each dark power ;-while through their cried,
numerous bands And in gay dance, amid luxuriant plains,
Beat not one heart, and mingling hope and fear Tripp'd to the jocund reed the emasculated swains. Now told them all was lost, now bade revenge ap
XXVII. “Behold,' I cried, these glories ! scenes divine ! Thou whose sad prime in pining want decays;
One there was there, whose loud defying tongue And these, o rapture! these shall all be thine, Nor hope nor fear had silenced, but the swell If thou wilt give to me, not God, the praise.
Of over-boiling malice. Utterance long. Hath he not given to indigence thy days?
His passion mock'd, and long he strove to tell Is not thy portion peril here and pain ?
His labouring ire ; still syllable none fell Oh! leave his temples, shun his wounding
From his pale quivering lip, but died away ways !
For very fury; from each hollow cell Seize the tiara! these mean weeds disdain, Half sprang his eyes, that cast a flamy ray, Kneel, kneel, thou man of wo, and peace and splen.
“This comes," at length burst from the rurious *Is it not written,' sternly he replied,
chief, *Tempt not the Lord thy God! Frowning he
"This comes of distant counsels! Here behold spake,
The fruits of wily cunning! the relief And instant sounds, as of the ocean tide,
Which coward policy would fain unfold, Rose, and the whirlwind from its prison brake,
To soothe the powers that warr'd with Heaven And caught me up aloft, till in one flake,
O wise! O potent ! O sagacious snare ! (of old ! The sidelong volley met my swift career,
And lo! our prince-the mighty and the bold, And smote me earthward.—Jove himself
There stands he, speli-struck, gaping at the air, might quake
While Heaven subverts his reign, and plants her At such a fall; my sinews crack'd, and near,
standard there." Obscure and dizzy sounds seem'd ringing in mine
Here, as recovered, Satan fix'd his eye
Full on the speaker; dark it was and stern; "Senseless and stunn'd I lay ; till, casting round He wrapp'd his black vest round him gloomily, My half unconscious gaze, I saw the foe
And stood like one whom weightiest thoughts Borne on a car of roses to the ground,
concern. By volant angels; and as sailing slow
Him Moloch mark'd, and strove again to turn He sunk, the hoary battlement below,
His soul to rage. “Behold, behold," he cried, While on the tall spire slept the slant sunbeam,
* The lord of Hell, whó bade these legions Sweet on the enamour'd zephyr was the flow
spurn Of heavenly instruments. Such strains oft seem,
Almighty rule-behold he lays aside (defied.” On star-light hill, to soothe the Syrian shepherd's The spear of just revenge, and shrinks by man dream.
Thus ended Moloch, and his burning tongue “I saw blaspheming. Hate renew'd my strength;
Hung quivering, as if (mad) to quench its heat I smote the ether with my iron wing,
In slaughter. So, his native wilds among, And left the accurseu scene.-Arrived at length
The famish'd tiger pants, when, near his seat, In these drear halls, to ye, my peers! I
Press'd on the sands, he marks the traveller's bring
feet. The tidings of defeat. Hell's haughty king,
Instant low murmurs rose, and many a sword Thrice vanquish'd, baffled, smitten, and dis- Had from its scabbard sprung; but toward the may'd!
Of the arch-fiend all turn'd with one accord, (seat O shame! Is this the hero who could fling
As loud he thus harangued the sanguinary horde. Defiance at his Maker, while array'd, High o'er the walls of light rebellion's banners play'd!
“ Ye powers of Hell, I am no coward. I proved
this of oid: who led your forces against the armies XXIV.
of Jehovah? Who coped with Ithuriel and the “Yet shall not Heaven's bland minions triumph
thunders of the Almighty? Who, when stunned long;
and confused ye lay on the burning lake, who first Hell yet shall have revenge.- glorious sight, awoke, and collected your scattered powers LastProphetic visions on my fancy throng,
ly, who led you across the unfathomable abyss to I see wild Agony's lean finger write
this delightful world, and established that reign Sad figures on his forehead-Keenly bright
here which now totters to its base? How, therefore, Revenge's flambeau burns! Now in his eyes
dares yon treacherous tend to cast a stain on Satan's Stand the hot tears,-immantled in the night, bravery ? he who preys only on the defencelessLo! he retires to mourn !-I hear his cries! who sucks the blood of infants, and delights only in He faintshe falls—and lo!-'tis true, ye powers,
acts of ignoble cruelly and unequal contention. he dies."
Away with the boaster who never joins in action,
but, like a cormorant, hovers over the tield, to feed XXV.
upon the wounded, and overwhelm the dying. Thus spake the chieftain,-and as if he view'd True bravery is as remote from rashness as from
The scene he pictured, with his foot advanced hesitation ; let us counsel coolly, but let us execute And chest inflated, motionless he stood,
our counselled purposes determinately. In power While under his uplifted shield he glanced,
we have learned, by that experiment which lost us With straining eye-ball fix'd, like one en- Heaven, that we are inferior to the Thunder-bear. tranced,
er :-In subtlety-in subtlety alone we are his equalse On viewless air;-thither the dark platoon Open war is impossible. Gazed wondering, nothing seen, save when
there danced The northern flash, or fiend late fled from noon,
“ Thus we shall pierce our Conqueror, through Darkend the disk of the descending moon.
Which as himself he loves; tous ' we fall, XXVI.
We fall not with the anguish, the disgrace silence crept stilly through the ranks.-The
Of falling unrevenged The stirring call breeze
Of vengeance wrings within me! Warriors all, Spake most distinctly. As the sailor stands,
The word is vengeance, and the spur despair. When all the midnight gasping from the seas
Away with coward wiles -Death's coal-black Brvak boding sobs, and to his sight expands
Be now our standard !-Be our torch the glare Of godlike deeds, far loftier than beseem
And now my spirits faint, and I have hung Him answering rose Mecashpim, who of old, The shell, that solaced me in saddest hour, Far in the silence of Chaldea's groves,
On the dark cypress! and the strings which Was worshipp'd, God of Fire, with charms untold
rung And mystery. His wandering spirit roves. With Jesus' praise, their harpings now are o er,
Now vainly searching for the flame it loves, Or, when the breeze comes by, moan, and are heard And sits and mourns like some white-robed sire,
Shall I no more re-animate the lay?
Oh! thou who visitest the sons of men, He waved his robe of flame, he cross'd his breast, Thou who dost listen when the humble pray, And sighing-his papyrus scarf survey'd,
One little space prolong my mournful day!
I am a youthful traveller in the way,
Ere I with Death shake hands, and smile that I 1.
am free. THUS far have I pursued my solemn theme
With self-rewarding toil, thus far have sung
LINES AND NOTE
BY LORD BYRON.
UNHAPPY White! while life was in its spring,
By neither chance nor envy, time nor flame,
But thee, Eternity, clasps to her breast,
An imitative radiance :* thy pure lyre
And beams and breathes in empyreal fire :
MEMORY OF H. K. WHITE.
BY A LADY.
IF worth, if genius, to the world are dear,
To Henry's shade devote no common tear.
His worth on no precarious tenure hung, THE HOMER OF MR. H. K, WHITE, If pure benevolence, if steady sense,
From genuine piety his virtues sprung:
Can to the feeling heart delight dispense; Presented to me by his Brother, J. Neville White. If all the highest
efforts of the mind,
Exalted, noble, elegant, refined,
Call for fond sympathy's heart-felt regret,
Ye sons of genius, pay the mournful debt: BARD of brief days, but ah, of deathless fame! His friends can truly speak how large his claim,
While on these awful leaves my fond eyes rest, And "Life was only wanting to his fame.".
On which thine late have dwelt, thy hand late Art Thou, indeed, dear youth, for ever fled ? I pause; and gaze regretful on thy name. (press'd, So quickly number'd with the silent dead.
Too sure I read it in the downcast eye,
Hear it in mourning friendship's stifled sigh. • Henry Kirke White died at Cambridge in Ah! could esteem, or admiration, save October, 1806, in consequence of too much exer. So dear an object from th' untimely grave, tion in the pursuit of studies that would have ma- This transcript faint had not essay'd to telí, tured a mind which disease and poverty could not The loss of one beloved, revered so well. impair, and which death itself destroyed rather Vainly I try, even eloquence were weak, than subdued. His poems abound in such beauties The silent sorrow that I feel, to speak. as must impress the reader with the liveliest regret that so short a period was allotted to talents, which would have dignified even the sacred functions he • Alluding to his pencilled sketch of a head was destined to assume.
surrounded with a giory.