SONNET

ADDRESSED TO

HENRY COWPER, Esa.

On his emphatical and interesting Delivery of the Defence of WARREN HASTINGS, Esq. in the House of Lo.ds.

COWPER, whose silver voice, tasked sometimes hard, Legends prolix delivers in the ears

(Attentive when thou readest) of England's peers, Let verse at length yield thee thy just reward. Thou wast not heard with drowsy disregard, Expending late on all that length of plea Thy generous powers, but silence honoured thee Mute as e'er gazed on Orator or Bard.

Thou art not voice alone, but hast beside

Both heart and head, and could'st with music

sweet

Of Attic phrase and senatorial tone,

Like thy renowned forefathers, far and wide

Thy fame diffuse, praised, not for utterance meet

Of others' speech, but magic of thy own.

LINES ADDRESSED TO DR. DARWIN,

AUTHOR OF

this.

Two Poets*, (poets, by report,

Not oft so well agree)

Sweet Harmonist of Flora's court!
Conspire to honour Thee.

They best can judge a poet's worth,
Who oft themselves have known

We therefore pleased extol thy song,

Though various yet complete,

Rich in embellishment as strong,

And learned as 'tis sweet.

* Alluding to the poem by Mr. Hayley, which accompanied

No envy mingles with our praise,
Though, could our hearts repine
At any poet's happier lays,

They would-they must at thine.

But we, in mutual bondage knit
Of friendship's closest tie,

And deem the bard, whoe'er he be,

And howsoever known,

Who would not twine a wreath for Thee,
Unworthy of his own.

ON MRS. MONTAGU'S

FEATHER-HANGINGS.

THE Birds put off their every hue

To dress a room for Montagu...

The Peacock sends his heavenly dyes,

His rainbows and his starry eyes;

The Pheasant, plumes, which round infold
His mantling neck with downy gold;

The Cock, his arched tail's azure show;
And, river-blanched, the Swan, his snow.
All tribes beside of Indian name,

That glossy shine or vivid flame,
Where rises and where sets the day,
Whate'er they boast of rich and gay,
Contribute to the gorgeous plan,
Proud to advance it all they can.
This plumage neither dashing shower,
Nor blasts, that shake the dripping bower,
Shall drench again or discompose,

But screened from every storm that blows,
It boasts a splendour ever new,
Safe with protecting Montagu.

To the same patroness resort,

Secure of favour at her court,

Strong Genius, from whose forge of thought

Forms rise, to quick perfection wrought,

Which, though new-born, with vigour move,
Like Pallas springing armed from Jove-
Imagination scattering round

Wild roses over furrowed ground,
Which Labour of his frowns beguile,
And teach Philosophy a smile-
Wit flashing on Religion's side,
Whose fires to sacred Truth applied,
The gem, though luminous before,
Obtrude on human notice more,
Like sun-beams on the golden height
Of some tall temple playing bright-
Well-tutored Learning, from his books
Dismissed with grave, not haughty, looks,
Their order on his shelves exact,
Not more harmonious or compact
Than that, to which he keeps confined
The various treasures of his mind-
All these to Montagu's repair,

Ambitious of a shelter there.

There Genius, Learning, Fancy, Wit,
The ruffled plumage calm refit,