Works

ORIGINAL.

Passant, ne pleure point son sort;
Car, s'il vivait, tu serais mort.


TRANSLATION.

Nay, passenger, don't mourn his lot;
If he had liv'd, why you had not.

Reform! reform! cries out the longing nation;
The people hail their own-elected House;
On tiptoe stands the general expectation:
What the grand doings of the Administration?...

A thousand songs I might have made
Of You, and only You;
A thousand thousand tongues of fire
That trembled down a golden wire
To lamp the night with stars, to braid
The morning bough with dew.
...

DESIGNED FOR MRS OLDFIELD.

Prodigious this! the frail one of our play
From her own sex should mercy find to-day!
You might have held the pretty head aside,...

Of all dramatic writing, comic wit,
As 'tis the best, so 'tis most hard to hit,
For it lies all in level to the eye,
Where all may judge, and each defect may spy.
Humour is that which every day we meet,...

Dear Lyndhurst,--you'll pardon my making thus free,--
But form is all fudge 'twixt such "comrogues" as we,
Who, whate'er the smooth views we, in public, may drive at,...

To Y ---, with a bowl of Bohemian glass.


From rocky hills, where climbs the vine;
Where on his waves the wandering Rhine
Sees imaged ruins, towns and towers,...

Est brevitate opus, ut currat sententia, neu se
Impediat verbis lassas onerantibus aures:
Et sermone opus est modo tristi, saepe jocoso,
Defendente vicem modo Rhetoris atque Poetae,...

Madame,

VVhil'st that, for which all vertue now is sold,
And almost every vice, almightie gold,
That which, to boote with hell, is thought worth heaven,...

Dear Reynolds, as last night I lay in bed,
There came before my eyes that wonted thread
Of shapes, and shadows, and remembrances,
That every other minute vex and please:...

O rough, rude, ready-witted Rankine,
The wale o' cocks for fun an' drinkin'!
There's monie godly folks are thinkin',
Your dreams[1] an' tricks
Will send you, Korah-like, a-sinkin'...

Such were the notes thy once-loved Poet sung,
Till Death untimely stopp'd his tuneful tongue.
Oh just beheld and lost! admired and mourn'd!
With softest manners, gentlest arts adorn'd!...

Fintray, my stay in worldly strife,
Friend o' my muse, friend o' my life,
Are ye as idle's I am?
Come then, wi' uncouth, kintra fleg,
O'er Pegasus I'll fling my leg,
And ye shall see me try him.
...

When warm'd with zeal, my rustic Muse
Feels fluttering fain to tell her news,
And paint her simple, lowly views
With all her art,
And, though in genius but obtuse,
May touch the heart.
...

Tread lightly here, for here, 'tis said,
When piping winds are hush'd around,
A small note wakes from underground,
Where now his tiny bones are laid.
No more in lone and leafless groves,...

These are not dewdrops, 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,...

Thou third great Canning, stand among our best
And noblest, now thy long day's work hath ceased,
Here silent in our Minster of the West
Who wert the voice of England in the East.

Christian! for none who scorns that holy name
Can gaze with honest eyes on Southey's fame;
Christian! bow down thy head in humble fear,
And think what God-given powers lie silenced here:...

What, what can knowledge, virtue, fame, avail?
Crown they with happiness our mortal state?
Ah! no: what dire, unthought-of woes assail!
O wretched Man! thou art the slave of fate.
...

Thy relics, Rowe, to this fair urn we trust,
And sacred place by Dryden's awful dust:
Beneath a rude and nameless stone he lies,
To which thy tomb shall guide inquiring eyes....