LINES,

Addressed to a Lady, on being desired to write her some Verses.

STUDIOUS to please, the poet ought to be,
And pleased himself, commissioned thus by thee.
But, when most anxious to delight,
'Tis oft most difficult to write:
So lovers least persuasive plead
When most ambitious to succeed.
The would-be poet finds this but too true,
And proves it most while thus addressing you :
Spare then his errors-spare his hobbling stanzas,
Indulgent be to his extravaganzas.

So gentle Delia spares her swain,
Though incorrectly he complain;
And, while the youth declares his duty,
Imputes his blunders to her beauty.
So my poor verses pray excuse,
And blame not me, but blame the muse:
The muse, who, like the lady-race,
Now proffers, now withdraws her grace.
(So Laura hapless Petarch used,
When he her lenity abused.)

Now pardon me this rambling strain,
Thy anger pray arrest ;

And when you honour me again,

O grant me this request :

Be thou my Muse, expand, illume my senses,
And constitute me thy Amanuensis.

January 25.

S

S

LINES WRITTEN BY PRIOR IN AN OVID. "OVID is the surest guide

You can name to show the way,
To any woman, maid or bride,
Who resolves to go astray."

WRITTEN UNDERNEATH EXTEMPORE.

IF woman once resolves to go astray,
She needs no guide to point her out the way.

B. O. N.

SONG.

HAD we met in those bright day of liberty, love,
When our souls on the pinions of pleasure were borne,
And we culled from the realms of romance, as we flew,
Rich chaplets of roses our brows to adorn!

I then might have gazed on thy charms, and resigned
My heart to the rapturous thrills they inspire;
But now I must shun thee-yet ah! I shall bear

In my bosom a wild and unquenchable fire!!

Those eyes, love, those eyes, will still light up my dreams,

And wherever I wander, like phantoms pursue:// With the sun they will brighten and burn, and at night Will smile with Diana, and melt with the dew. Ah Flora must weep o'er her blossoms to see

Those sweet lips of thine wear a lovelier streak ; And the rose of Damascus turn pallid and droop, For the beautiful vermeil that glows on thy cheek. Adieu, love, adieu! thou may'st learn to forget;

But for me-the dark volume will moulder unclosed: Thou mayst revel with truth still unstained-but for me The leaves are all scathed on which honour reposed! One look of forgiveness-one tear of regretOne pressure of friendship alone-and we severTill the laws which now part us Death kindly shall And eternity bless us for ever and ever! [break,

January 7, 1820.

CHARLES FEIST.

STANZAS.

FAIR river! that flowest with wildest meander, Through vallies where flowerets bespangle the meads, Along thy green banks with delight do I wander, When Sol from the world 'neath the blue wave recedes.

O smooth is thy stream, from its white bosom seeming The heavens to reflect to themselves back again ; Except where the bark, with its ensigns gay streaming, Its course urges on towards the watery plain.

Ah whither their way are its crew cheerly speeding?
And why are their oars with such industry plied?
O why at its prow stands yon maiden unheeding
The scenes that surround her, as onward they glide?
Her mind to one object alone seems directed,

Yon ship that her sails to the wind proudly bends; For that, lovely stream, all thy charms are neglected, Towards that all the maiden's solicitude tends.

In the west the last beam of the sun is now glowing,
The waters are gilt by the tint of his ray;
And gay goes the bark, with its streamers still flowing,
As o'er the wide ocean it now makes its way.

But who from the ship the bark's progress is viewing?
Who is he that so earnestly marks its career?
Whose dark eyes seem fixed on the course 'tis pursuing,
And beam with delight as it now draws more near
The mild tear of rapture its fellow tear chasing

Adown the maid's cheek but enlivens her charms: The vessel is gained-up its side quickly passing, And safely on board, lo! she sinks in his arms.

ye who of absence have tasted the sadness, The hopes and the fears that alternately flow With bosoms that truly love, now share their gladness, Ye only the bliss of this moment can know.

TO ROSA.

W. E. jun.

SWEET girl! were life a desert plain
And thou the rose that blossomed there,
For me that desert would contain

All that is beautiful and fair.

If doomed misfortune's storms to face,
I'd turn beneath her darkest sky,
To gaze upon the azure space

That brightly opened in thine eye.
For oh! when partial beauty's smile
Has chased away the clouds of sadness,
The heart, o'ercast with grief awhile,
Exults to catch its beams of gladness.

Frome.

J. PLAYER.

FANNY THE FICKLE.

FANNY, I saw that thou wert fair,
And I believed thee true;

But beauty is with thee a snare
Thy captives to undo.

Know, such charms baseless as the air,
May only win while new ; -

And thou, my girl, must have a care,
Lest thy spells vanish too.

Be wise betimes, and think how poor
The joy that will be thine,

When charms that may not long endure
Their influence shall resign.ang
Then they whose bliss seemed once secure,
Till taught by thee to pine,

Will laugh that thou could'st not procure
A longer date for thine.

J. W. DALBY.

STANZAS ADDRESSED TO A LADY.

AH! pity me not, for this proud heart tho' breaking
Compassion's soft accents would scorn e'en from thee,
And the gay haunts of men, aud their follies forsaking,
To Solitude's cave, in the desert, would flee!
Yes, there would I muse, not in sorrow complaining,
(For sorrow and pity are sadly allied,).
But, indignantly firm, learn the art of disdaining
The tempests careering o'er life's stormy tide,
Then seek not with Sympathy's solace to move me,
Or teach my stern soul in affliction to faint;
Adversity's gales, though most keenly they prove me,
Ne'er shall rend from this bosom one sigh of com-
plaint.

The tear-drops of pity must fall unavailing

On hearts that have ne'er felt their softening power; As the firm flinty rock o'er the sea waves prevailing, Proves imperviously hard to the evening shower. Islington, Feb. 16, 1821.

S......

PADDY'S REPLY.

A WAG once asked an English clown,
What he would take to stand,
Stripped, on the steeple of the town,
With weights tied to each hand.

The clown a consultation held ;'
Thinks he, I may fall down:
Silver at length his fears repelled,
He said- he'd take a crown.

The same wag asked an Irish clown,
What he would take to stand,
Stripped, on the steeple of the town,
With weights upon each hand.

Paddy reflected for a minute,

His eyes in caution rolled;

Then simply cried-" the devil's in it,
Why sure I'll take a cold.'

BALLAD.

DARK was the night in Brighton town,

And very dark the Steyne,

Few of the lamps were lighted up,

And they could not be seen.

When forth there came a lady gay,
A lady gay was she,

For oh! her mantle was made of silk,
And it hung right tastily.

And sweetly I deem that lady smelt
Of genuine lavender water.
Which nathless she had bought herself,
Or somebody else had bought her.

And quickly, quickly. this lady walked,
She walked not to and fro;

She neither turned to the right or left,
But went as she wished to go.

B.