1:32

The hearty grasp that sends a pleasant sonnet 29
Into the brain ere one can think upon it;/30
The silence when some rhymes are coming out; 3)
And when they're come, the very pleasant rout:«
The message certain to be done to-morrow. 3
'Tis perhaps as well that it should be to borrow
Some precious book from out its snug retreat, 35
To cluster round it when we next shall meet. 3
Scarce can I scribble on : for lovely airs

37

Are fluttering round the room like doves in pairs;
Many delights of that glad day recalling,

3

38

When first my senses caught their tender falling. 0
And with these airs come forms of elegance 41
Stooping their shoulders o'er a horse's prance, 2.
Careless, and grand-fingers soft and round
Parting luxuriant curls; and the swift bound.
Of Bacchus from his chariot, when his eye
Made Ariadne's cheek look blushingly.
Thus I remember all the pleasant flow
Of words at opening a portfolio.

47

Things such as these are ever harbingers
To trains of peaceful images: the stirs //50
Of a swan's neck unseen among the rushes: 5/
A linnet starting all about the bushes: 52

A butterfly, with golden wings broad-parted, 53
Nestling a rose, convulsed as though it smarted 5"
With over-pleasure-many, many more, 5
Might I indulge at large in all my store

Of luxuries: yet I must not forget

Sleep, quiet with his рорру coronet :

For what there may be worthy in these rhymes
I partly owe to him: and thus, the chimes
Of friendly voices had just given place
To as sweet a silence, when I’gan retrace
The pleasant day, upon a couch at ease.
It was a poet's house who keeps the keys

65 Of Pleasure's temple-round about were hung
The glorious features of the bards who sung
In other ages-cold and sacred busts

Smiled at each other. Happy he who trusts
69 To clear Futurity his darling fame!
1170 Then there were fauns and satyrs taking aim
At swelling apples with a frisky leap

And reaching fingers 'mid a luscious heap

Of vine-leaves. Then there rose to view a fane
Of liney marble, and thereto a train

Of nymphs approaching fairly o'er the sward
One, loveliest, holding her white hand toward
The dazzling sun-rise; two sisters sweet
Bending their graceful figures till they meet
Over the trippings of a little child:

And some are hearing, eagerly, the wild
Thrilling liquidity of dewy piping.

ال

See, in another picture, nymphs are wiping 82
Cherishingly Diana's timorous limbs; 7

A fold of lawny mantle dabbling swims

At the bath's edge, and keeps a gentle motion 85
With the subsiding crystal: as when ocean 8
Heaves calmly its broad swelling smoothness o'er
Its rocky marge, and balances once more
The patient weeds, that now unshent by foam $9
Feel all about their undulating home.
Sappho's meek head was there half smiling down 9/
At nothing; just as though the earnest frown 92
Of over-thinking had that moment gone 73
From off her brow, and left her all alone. 4

19

CY

Great Alfred's too, with anxious, pitying eyes, 5

As if he always listen'd to the sighs

Of the goaded world; and Kosciusko's, worn
By horrid suffrance-mightily forlorn.

Petrarch, outstepping from the shady green, 91

Starts at the sight of Laura; nor can wean
His eyes from her sweet face.

1300

Most happy they!201

For over them was seen a free display

2

Of outspread wings, and from between them shone
The face of Poesy: from off her throne
She overlook'd things that I scarce could tell,
The very sense of where I was might well
Keep sleep aloof: but more than that there came
Thought after thought to nourish up the flame g
Within my breast; so that the morning light a
Surprised me even from a sleepless night;/210
And up I rose refresh'd, and glad, and gay,
Resolving to begin that very day 12
These lines; and howsoever they be done, /3
I leave them as a father does his son., 4/20

HINK not of it, sweet one, so ;-

Give it not a tear;

Sigh thou mayst, and bid it go
Any-any where.

Do not look so sad, sweet one,-
Sad and fadingly;

Shed one drop then-it is gone-
Oh! 'twas born to die!

Still so pale? then, dearest, weep;
Weep, I'll count the tears,
And each one shall be a bliss
For thee in after years.

Brighter has it left thine eyes
Than a sunny rill;

And thy whispering melodies
Are tenderer still.

Yet as all things mourn awhile
At fleeting blisses;

Let us too; but be our dirge
A dirge of kisses.

1817.

LINES

NFELT, unheard, unseen,
I've left my little queen,

Her languid arms in silver slumber
lying:

Ah! through their nestling touch,
Who-who could tell how much
There is for madness-cruel, or complying?

Those faery lids how sleek!

Those lips how moist!-they speak,

In ripest quiet, shadows of sweet sounds:
Into my fancy's ear

Melting a burden dear,

How "Love doth know no fullness, nor no bounds."

This sweetest day for dalliance was born!

So, without more ado,

I'll feel my heaven anew,

For all the blushing of the hasty morn.

1817.

EPISTLE TO GEORGE FELTON

MATHEW.

Among the rest a shepherd (though but young
Yet hartned to his pipe) with all the skill

His few yeeres could, began to fill his quill.

Britannia's Pastorals.-BROWNE.

WEET are the pleasures that to verse belong,

And doubly sweet a brotherhood in

song;

Nor can remembrance, Mathew! bring to view
A fate more pleasing, a delight more true
Than that in which the brother poets joy'd,
Who, with combined powers, their wit employ'd
To raise a trophy to the drama's muses.
The thought of this great partnership diffuses
Over the genius-loving heart, a feeling

Of all that's high, and great, and good, and healing.

Too partial friend! fain would I follow thee
Past each horizon of fine poesy;

Fain would I echo back each pleasant note,
As o'er Sicilian seas clear anthems float

'Mong the light skimming gondolas far parted,
Just when the sun his farewell beam has darted:
But 'tis impossible; far different cares
Beckon me sternly from soft "Lydian airs,"
And hold my faculties so long in thrall,
That I am oft in doubt whether at all

I shall again see Phoebus in the morning :
Or flush'd Aurora in the roseate dawning!
Or a white Naiad in a rippling stream;
Or a rapt seraph in a moonlight beam;
Or again witness what with thee I've seen,
The dew by fairy feet swept from the green,