Inder to the First Lines.

A Brook, whose stream so great, so good
A drop, one drop, how sweetly one fair drop
All Hybla's honey, all that sweetness can
All trees, all leafy groves confess the Spring
All we have is God's, and yet

And now thou 'rt set wide ope, the spear's sad art

A plant of noble stem, forward and fair

As if the storm meant him

Britain! the mighty Ocean's lovely bride!

Christ bids the dumb tongue speak; it speaks; the sound

Come and let us live, my dear

Come death, come bonds, nor do you shrink, my ears
Could not once blinding me, cruel, suffice?

Death, what dost? O, hold thy blow

Each blest drop on each blest limb

Faithless and fond Mortality

Four teeth thou hadst that rank'd in goodly state

Go, smiling souls, your new-built cages break
Happy me! O happy sheep!.

High mounted on an ant, Nanus the tall

Hath only Anger an omnipotence

Her eyes' flood licks His feet's fair stain

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Let hoary Time's vast bowels be the grave

Let it no longer be a forlorn hope.

Lo here the fair Chariclia! in whom strove
Love, brave Virtue's younger brother
Love is lost, nor can his mother

Love now no fire hath left him

'Midst all the dark and knotty snares

Muse! now the servant of soft loves no more

Now, Lord, or never, they'll believe on Thee
Now westward Sol had spent the richest beams
O mighty Nothing! unto thee

One eye? a thousand rather, and a thousand more

On the proud banks of great Euphrates' flood
O these wakeful wounds of Thine

Pallas saw Venus armed, and straight she cried
Passenger, whoe'er thou art

Rich Lazarus! richer in those gems, thy tears
Rise heir of fresh Eternity

Rise, then, immortal maid! Religion, rise!
See here an easy feast that knows no wound
Seen? and yet hated Thee? they did not see
Show me Himself, Himself (bright Sir), O show
Take these, Time's tardy truants, sent by me
Tell me, bright boy, tell me, my golden lad
That on her lap she casts her humble eye
The modest front of this small floor

The smiling Morn had newly waked the Day

The world's Light shines; shine as it will

This reverend shadow cast that setting sun

Thou cheat'st us, Ford; mak'st one seem two by Art

Thou hast the art on't, Peter, and canst tell -
Thou spak'st the word (Thy word's a law)

Thou trimm'st a Prophet's tomb, and dost bequeath

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Thou water turn'st to wine (fair friend of life)
Thy God was making haste into thy roof
Thy hands are washed, but O, the water's spilt
To see both blended in one flood-

To Thee these first-fruits of My growing death
To thy lover

Two devils at one blow thou hast laid flat

Two mites, two drops (yet all her house and land)
Two went to pray? O rather say -

Unde rubor vestris, et non sua purpura lymphis?
Under thy shadow may I lurk awhile

Welcome, my grief, my joy; how dear's

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Where art thou, Sol, while thus the blindfold Day
Whoe'er she be

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Why dost thou wound my wounds, O thou that passest by
Would any one the true cause find

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WILLIAM ANDREWS & CO., PRINTERS, HULL.

CARMEN DEO NOSTRO.