BRITISH RURAL COTTAGES IN 1842. But brighten, with their "hour of heav'n," Three crowns, for children, wife, and all, EPIGRAM. I KNOW, thy vileness is thy might, And that thou 'rt in thy weakness strong; I do not ask thee to do right; But, paltry creature, do no wrong. VOL. II. N YOUNG ENGLAND. I MET a sage who had been dead Then, met I one (a rogue's sly son,) And praised it, ev'n with tears: Alas! he also had been dead EPIGRAM. IN speech and print, in prose and song, Still aiding Starveall's right to wrong, How oft the people's knaves have shown, "That mine is his, and his his own!" * See lines by C. R. Pemberton. Poor Charles! POOR CHARLES. SHUNN'D by the rich, the vain, the dull, In meekness proud of wishes kind, A godlike child hath left the earth; In heav'n a child is born: Cold World! thou could'st not know his worth, And well he earn'd thy scorn; For he believed that all may be What martyrs are, in spite of thee, Nor wear thy crown of thorn. Smiling, he bound it round his brain, But vain his hope to find below That peace which heav'n alone can know ; He died-to seek it there. ON A ROSE IN DECEMBER. STAY yet, pale flower, though coming storms will tear thee, My soul grows darker, and I cannot spare thee. WAR. THE victories of mind, SONNET ON A PAIR OF SPECTACLES. How many men, who liv'd to bless mankind, Nor name, nor record! save the good which grew Lo, what a tree is rising from their graves, To shelter, ev'n on earth, the wise and true! Then, worship not famed words, which, like the winds, Or Homer's song, seem things that cannot die, TO FANNY ANN. As the flower bloweth, Ev'n as light hasteth, Darkness, too, wasteth : Morn then discloses, Raindrops on roses! |