LINES

WRITTEN FOR INSERTION IN A COLLECTION OF HANDWRITINGS AND SIGNATURES MADE BY MISS PATTY, SISTER OF HANNAH MORE.

IN vain to live from age to age
While modern bards endeavour,
I write my name in Patty's page,
And gain my point for ever.

ON A FREE BUT TAME REDBREAST, A FAVOURITE OF
MISS SALLY HURDIS.1

THESE are not dew-drops, these are tears,
And tears by Sally shed,

For absent Robin, who she fears,

With too much cause, is dead.

One morn he came not to her hand,
As he was wont to come,

And, on her finger perch'd, to stand
Picking his breakfast-crumb.

Alarm'd she call'd him, and perplext
She sought him, but in vain;
That day he came not, nor the next,
Nor ever came again.

She therefore raised him here a tomb,
Though where he fell, or how,
None knows, so secret was his doom,
Nor where he moulders now.

Had half a score of coxcombs died
In social Robin's stead,

Poor Sally's tears had soon been dried,
Or haply never shed.

1 "Fiere are two nice damsels, not young, but of easy, elegant manners, expected every moment in the turret, and for them you must exert your humanity. This you will doubtless be ready to do, when I tell you they are two interesting sisters of Cowper's friend, poor Hurdis,-his sisters Eliza and Sally. Sally, you know, was his model for Cecilia, in his play of Sir Thomas More."-HAYLEY TO JOHN JOHNSON, March 6, 1807. (Life of Hayley, ii. 158.)

But Bob was neither rudely bold
Nor spiritlessly tame,

Nor was, like theirs, his bosom cold,
But always in a flame.

SONNET TO WILLIAM WILBERFORCE, ESQ

THY Country, Wilberforce, with just disdain,
Hears thee by cruel men and impious call'd
Fanatic, for thy zeal to loose the enthrall'd
From exile, public sale, and slav'ry's chain.

Friend of the poor, the wrong'd, the fetter-gall'd,
Fear not lest labour such as thine be vain.

Thou hast achieved a part; hast gain'd the car Of Britain's senate to thy glorious cause;

Hope smiles, joy springs, and though cold cautior

pause

And weave delay, the better hour is near
That shall remunerate thy toils severe
By peace for Afric, fenced with British laws.

Enjoy what thou hast won, esteem and love
From all the Just on earth, and all the Blest above.

TO DR. AUSTIN, OF CECIL STREET, LONDON

AUSTIN! accept a grateful verse from me,
The poet's treasure, no inglorious fee.
Lov'd by the Muses, thy ingenuous mind
Pleasing requital in my verse may
Verse oft has dash'd the scythe of Time aside,
Immortalizing names which else had died.

find;

And oh! could I command the glittering wealth
With which sick kings are glad to purchase health;
Yet, if extensive fame, and sure to live,

Were in the power of verse like mine to give,
I would not recompense his art with less,
Who, giving Mary health, heals my distress.

Friend of my friend! I love thee, tho' unknown,
And boldly call thee, being his, my own.

1 Hayley.

SONNET

ADDRESSED TO WILLIAM HAYLEY, ESQ.

HAYLEY-thy tenderness fraternal shown,
In our first interview, delightful guest!
To Mary and me, for her dear sake distress'd,
Such as it is has made my heart thy own,
Though heedless now of new engagements grown
For threescore winters make a wintry breast,
And I had purpos'd ne'er to go in quest
Of Friendship more, except with God alone.
But Thou hast won me; nor is God my foe,
Who, ere this last afflictive scene began,
Sent Thee to mitigate the dreadful blow,
My Brother, by whose sympathy I know
Thy true deserts infallibly to scan,

Not more t'admire the Bard than love the Man.

CATHARINA.

ADDRESSED TO MISS STAPLETON.1

SHE came-she is gone-we have met-
And meet perhaps never again;

The sun of that moment is set,

And seems to have risen in vain.
Catharina has fled like a dream,
(So vanishes pleasure, alas !)
But has left a regret and esteem
That will not so suddenly pass.

The last evening ramble we made,
Catharina, Maria, and I,
Our progress was often delayed

By the nightingale warbling nigh.

We paused under many a tree,

And much she was charmed with a tone,

Less sweet to Maria and me,

Who so lately had witnessed her own.

1 Afterwards Mrs. Courtenay.

My numbers that day she had sung,
And gave them a grace so divine,
As only her musical tongue

Could infuse into numbers of mine.
The longer I heard, I esteemed
The work of my fancy the more,
And e'en to myself never seemed
So tuneful a poet before.

Though the pleasures of London exceed
In number the days of the year,
Catharina, did nothing impede,

Would feel herself happier here;
For the close-woven arches of limes
On the banks of our river, I know,
Are sweeter to her many times

Than aught that the city can show.

So it is, when the mind is endued
With a well-judging taste from above
Then, whether embellished or rude,
'Tis nature alone that we love.
The achievements of art may amuse,
May even our wonder excite,
But groves, hills, and valleys diffuse
A lasting, a sacred delight.

Since then in the rural recess
Catharina alone can rejoice,
May it still be her lot to possess
The scene of her sensible choice!
To inhabit a mansion remote

From the clatter of street-pacing steeds, And by Philomel's annual note

To measure the life that she leads.

With her book, and her voice, and her lyre,
To wing all her moments at home;
And with scenes that new rapture inspire,
As oft as it suits her to roam;
She will have just the life she prefers,
With little to hope or to fear,
And ours would be pleasant as hers,
Might we view her enjoying it here.

CATHARINA:

THE SECOND PART.

ON HER MARRIAGE TO GEO. COURTENAY, ESQ., JUNE, 1792.

BELIEVE it or not, as you choose,
The doctrine is certainly true,
That the future is known to the muse,
And poets are oracles too.

I did but express a desire,

To see Catharina at home,
At the side of my friend George's fire,
And lo-she is actually come.

Such prophecy some may despise,
But the wish of a poet and friend
Perhaps is approv'd in the skies,

And therefore attains to its end.
'Twas a wish that flew ardently forth
From a bosom effectually warm'd
With the talents, the graces, and worth
Of the person for whom it was form'd.

Maria' would leave us, I knew,
To the grief and regret of us all,
But less to our grief, could we view
Catharina the Queen of the Hall;
And therefore I wish'd as I did,

And therefore this union of hands;
Not a whisper was heard to forbid,
But all cry-Amen-to the bans.

Since therefore I seem to incur
No danger of wishing in vain,
When making good wishes for her,
I will e'en to my wishes again-
With one I have made her a Wife,
And now I will try with another,
Which I cannot suppress for my life-
How soon I can make her a Mother.

1 Lady Throckmorton.