ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG MAN OF

FORTUNE

WHO ABANDONED HIMSELF TO AN INDOLENT AND CAUSELESS MELANCHOLY.

HENCE that fantastic wantonness of woe,
O Youth to partial Fortune vainly dear!
To plundered Want's half-sheltered hovel go,
Go, and some hunger-bitten Infant hear
Moan haply in a dying Mother's ear:
Or when the cold and dismal fog-damps brood
O'er the rank church-yard with sear elm-leaves
strewed,

Pace round some widow's grave, whose dearer part

Was slaughtered, where o'er his uncoffined limbs The flocking flesh-birds screamed! Then, while thy

heart

VOL. I.

Χ

Groans, and thine eye a fiercer sorrow dims,

Know (and the truth shall kindle thy young mind)
What nature makes thee mourn, she bids thee heal!
O abject! if, to sickly dreams resigned,
All effortless thou leave life's common-weal
A prey to Tyrants, Murderers of Mankind.

SONNET TO THE RIVER OTTER.

DEAR native Brook! wild Streamlet of the West! How many various-fated years have past,

What happy, and what mournful hours, since last
I skimmed the smooth thin stone along thy breast,
Numbering its light leaps! yet so deep imprest
Sink the sweet scenes of childhood, that mine eyes
I never shut amid the sunny ray,

But straight with all their tints thy waters rise,
Thy crossing plank, thy marge with willows grey,
And bedded sand that veined with various dies
Gleamed through thy bright transparence! On my way,
Visions of childhood! oft have ye beguiled

Lone manhood's cares, yet waking fondest sighs:
Ah! that once more I were a careless child!

OF THE BIRTH OF A SON, SEPTEMBER 20, 1796.

OFT o'er my brain does that strange fancy roll
Which makes the present (while the flash doth last)
Seem a mere semblance of some unknown past,
Mixed with such feelings, as perplex the soul
Self-questioned in her sleep; and some have said*
We lived, ere yet this robe of Flesh we wore.
O my sweet baby! when I reach my door,
If heavy looks should tell me thou art dead,
(As sometimes, through excess of hope, I fear)
I think that I should struggle to believe

Thou wert a spirit, to this nether sphere
Sentenced for some more venial crime to grieve;
Did'st scream, then spring to meet Heaven's quick
reprieve,

While we wept idly o'er thy little bier!

* Ην που ημων η ψυχη πριν εν τωδε τω ανθρωπινω είδει γενέσθαι.

PLAT. IN PHÆDON.

SONNET.

TO A FRIEND WHO ASKED, HOW I FELT WHEN THE

NURSE FIRST PRESENTED MY INFANT TO ME.

CHARLES! my slow heart was only sad, when first
I scanned that face of feeble infancy:
For dimly on my thoughtful spirit burst
All I had been, and all my child might be!
But when I saw it on its Mother's arm,
And hanging at her bosom (she the while
Bent o'er its features with a tearful smile)
Then I was thrilled and melted, and most warm
Impressed a Father's kiss: and all beguiled
Of dark remembrance and presageful fear,
I seemed to see an angel-form appear-
'Twas even thine, beloved woman mild!

So for the Mother's sake the Child was dear,
And dearer was the Mother for the Child.