This movable structure of shelves,

For its beauty admired and its use, And charged with octavos and twelves, The gayest I had to produce; Where, flaming in scarlet and gold, My poems enchanted I view, And hope, in due time, to behold My Iliad and Odyssey too :

This china, that decks the alcove,
Which here people call a buffet,
But what the gods call it above

Has ne'er been reveal'd to us yet: These curtains, that keep the room warm Or cool, as the season demands,

Those stoves that for pattern and form Seem the labour of Mulciber's hands.

All these are not half that I owe
To one, from our earliest youth
To me ever ready to show

Benignity, friendship, and truth;
For time, the destroyer declared
And foe of our perishing kind,
If even her face he has spared,

Much less could he alter her mind.

Thus compass'd about with the goods
And chattels of leisure and ease,

I indulge my poetical moods

In many such fancies as these;

And fancies I fear they will seem-
Poets' goods are not often so fine ;
The poets will swear that I dream
When I sing of the splendour of mine.

1786.

LINES COMPOSED FOR A MEMORIAL OF ASHLEY COWPER, ESQ.

IMMEDIATELY AFTER HIS DEATH, BY HIS NEPHEW

WILLIAM OF WESTON.

FAREWELL! endued with all that could engage All hearts to love thee, both in youth and age! In prime of life, for sprightliness enroll'd Among the gay, yet virtuous as the old;

In life's last stage, (O blessings rarely found!) Pleasant as youth with all its blossoms crown'd; Through every period of this changeful state Unchanged thyself-wise, good, affectionate!

Marble may flatter, and lest this should seem O'ercharged with praises on so dear a theme, Although thy worth be more than half supprest, Love shall be satisfied, and veil the rest.

June, 1788.

ON THE QUEEN'S VISIT TO LONDON,

THE NIGHT OF THE SEVENTEENTH OF MARCH, 1789.

WHEN, long sequester'd from his throne,
George took his seat again,

By right of worth, not blood alone,
Entitled here to reign,

Then loyalty, with all his lamps
New trimm'd, a gallant show!
Chasing the darkness and the damps,
Set London in a glow.

'Twas hard to tell, of streets or squares,
Which form'd the chief display,
These most resembling cluster'd stars,
Those the long milky way.

Bright shone the roofs, the domes, the spires,
And rockets flew, self-driven,

To hang their momentary fires

Amid the vault of heaven.

So, fire with water to compare,
The ocean serves, on high
Up-spouted by a whale in air,
To express unwieldy joy.

Had all the pageants of the world
In one procession join'd,

And all the banners been unfurl'd

That heralds e'er design'd,

For no such sight had England's Queen Forsaken her retreat,

Where George, recover'd, made a scene Sweet always doubly sweet.

Yet glad she came that night to prove,
A witness undescried,

How much the object of her love
Was loved by all beside.

Darkness the skies had mantled o'er
In aid of her design————
Darkness, O Queen! ne'er call'd before
To veil a deed of thine!

On borrow'd wheels away she flies,
Resolved to be unknown,

And gratify no curious eyes

That night except her own.

Arrived, a night like noon she sees,
And hears the million hum;

As all by instinct, like the bees,

Had known their sovereign come.

Pleased she beheld aloft portray'd,
On many a splendid wall,

Emblems of health and heavenly aid,
And George the theme of all.

Unlike the enigmatic line,

So difficult to spell,

Which shook Belshazzar at his wine

The night his city fell.

Soon watery grew her eyes and dim,
But with a joyful tear,

None else, except in prayer for him,
George ever drew from her.

It was a scene in every part

Like those in fable feign'd,

And seem'd by some magician's art
Created and sustain❜d.

But other magic there, she knew,
Had been exerted none,

To raise such wonders in her view,
Save love of George alone.

That cordial thought her spirit cheer'd,
And through the cumbrous throng,

Not else unworthy to be fear'd,
Convey'd her calm along.

So, ancient poets say, serene

The sea-maid rides the waves,
And fearless of the billowy scene
Her peaceful bosom laves.

With more than astronomic eyes
She view'd the sparkling show;

One Georgian star adorns the skies,
She myriads found below.

Yet let the glories of a night

Like that, once seen, suffice,

Heaven grant us no such future sight, Such previous woe the price!