TO THE MEMORY OF JW.

WHO DIED IN THE WEST INDIES.

1809.

PEACE to thy shade oh! friend most dear,

Be no intruding sorrow nigh;

Be no unhallow'd footstep near,

No murmur heard, save

's sigh.

What though thy loved remains are placed Far, far from anxious friendship's care, No time, no distance can efface

Remembrance of thy virtues rare.

Relentless fate denied the boon

Thy worth first taught my heart to crave; It crush'd affection's flower at noon, Its blossoms deck thy early grave.

Though rudely pluckt from nature's soil,
"Twill flourish e'en within thy tomb;
Whence, freed from earthly care and toil,

With thee 't will rise to endless bloom!

ON HEARING OF A LITTLE POEM

WRITTEN BY THE DAUGHTER OF SIR NATHANIEL PEACOCKE, AT THE AGE OF NINE YEARS.

To cheer thee in life's chequer'd scene,
Sweet girl! do the muses combine;
And a wreath for thy juvenile brow
Early genius and fancy entwine!

May virtue's ineffable grace

Thy talents improve and refine;

May science thy footsteps attend,

And her beautiful blossoms be thine.

Pursue thy poetical taste:

New lustre 't will add to thy bloom; ·
And in sorrow, which Heaven avert,
It will aid to enlighten the gloom.

Let truth and sweet hope be thy theme:
Teach man, whatsoever be given,

That happiness dwelleth not here;

The Christian must seek it in heaven!

ΤΟ

1809.

"Loin de moi, loin d'ici, portez vos soupirs: "De l'amour je n'en veux ni les peines ni les plaisirs."

No

peace the restless heart can know
Where love usurps tyrannic power;
The wretched sport of varied woe,
It ne'er can boast one peaceful hour.

It flutters like imprison'd bird,
That vainly beats the cage's wire;
Or, moth-like, heedless and absurd,
A willing victim courts the fire.

Love, like the lightning, blazing fierce,
Which whilst amusive oft destroys;

With wily shaft the heart will pierce,

That pays with grief its short-lived joys.

Where are his rosy fetters? where

The gentle bands the poets sing?

The timid, unobtrusive air,

The sigh soft borne on zephyr's wing?

Delusive dreams! with danger fraught,
Thou ne'er shalt hold enslaved my mind,
By me, no more such joys are sought
I freely yield them to the wind.

But like the vestals' sacred fire,

Let friendship's calm and steady flame, My heart to nobler thoughts inspire, And give that heart a nobler aim.

Its gentle, calm delights, be mine,
To gild this life, and cheer its gloom;
Firm let it round my soul entwine,

And smooth my passage to the tomb.

ON RECEIVING THE MINIATURE
OF A FRIEND.

How I value those features that speak thee so plain
No language can ever impart;

I prize them, because they restore thee again,
And give back the friend of my heart;

I see the loved smile that so often illumed

My destiny dark by its power;

And the hopes I believed were for ever entomb'd, Revive in this happier hour.

The ivy disdains not the ruin, but flings

Around it a beautiful shade:

E'en thus by the peace which thy sympathy brings My trusting affection's repaid.

Thy kindness I value: it sheds a soft balm,
For it springs from a source that is pure;
Represses each murmur, and bids me be calm,
While it soothes, though it never can cure.