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PROSPECT OF * * *
“ The owners liv'd, for manly worth renown'd,
Coll. of old Poetry.
“Why floats yon banner o'er the keep,
“ Or distant watch-fires banish sleep?
“ While ancient Knights the view assail,
666 In helm and hauberk's twisted mail.'
STANZAS UPON A CASTLE.
“Whose waving plumes appear to lower,
When rival Princes thro' the land,
With vengeance fir'd each hostile brand;
And well her magic pen can trace,
The Troubadour's romantic race.
The lofty tower with trophies hung,
The martial tournament and ball.
Far diff'rent now the prospect view,
Adorn’d by Cultivation's hue;
The stern Baronial code replace.
Art, wealth, and learning now combine,
To make the vernal landscape shine;
While yon proud mansion's ivied dome,
Where social pleasure finds a home,
Intestine broils no more affright,
But views its owner with delight;
And ever may
his honour'd line,
In Britain's senate foremost shine.
With manly tone each duty blend,
The Nation-Law, and Monarch's friend. SONNET
ADDRESSED TO A LADY, LAMENTING
SHE COULD NOT
“ Jo vorrei poi drizzar questa mia penna ;
WHILE your fine form and native grace,
Outshine a fair tho’ vacant face ;
Surpass for dignity of mien,
While you can roam by Cynthia’s light,
And charm the Ball, or crowded Park,
Or when attending Sorrow's bed,
You soothe and calm the aching head ;
With converse-playful, light and gay, Chase grief and black despair away.
Oh! why the Poet's life desire,
Why barter your ingenuous heart,
For all his wild and thankless art ?
You little know the boon you ask,
His dang'rous, and delusive task;
His fever'd brain, and aching head,
By ev'ry dream of folly led.
You little know his secret rage,
When fuming o'er the blotted page; The labour'd thought and limping line, 'Ere the coy Muse will deign to shine.