Some hoary-headed friend, perchance,
May gaze with stifled breath;
And oft, in momentary trance,
Forget the waste of death.

Ev'n thus a lovely rose I view'd,
In summer-swelling pride;

Nor mark'd the bud, that green and rude
Peep'd at the rose's side.

It chanced, I pass'd again that way
In autumn's latest hour,

And wond'ring saw the selfsame spray
Rich with the selfsame flower.

Ah, fond deceit! the rude green bud
Alike in shape, place, name,

Had bloom'd, where bloom'd its parent stud,

Another and the same!

1796.

EPIGRAM.

HOARSE Mævius reads his hobbling verse

To all, and at all times;
And finds them both divinely smooth,
His voice, as well as rhymes.

Yet folks say " Mævius is no ass :"-
But Mævius makes it clear,

That he's a monster of an ass,

An ass without an ear.

VOL. I.

E

1797.

INSCRIPTION BY THE REV. W. L. BOWLES

IN NETHER STOWEY CHURCH.

LETUS abi! mundi strepitu curisque remotus;
Lætus abi! cæli qua vocat alma quies.
Ipsa Fides loquitur, lacrymamque incusat inanem,
Quæ cadit in vestros, care pater, cineres.
Heu! tantum liceat meritos hos solvere ritus,
Et longum tremula dicere voce, Vale!

TRANSLATION.

DEPART in joy from this world's noise and strife
To the deep quiet of celestial life!

Depart!-Affection's self reproves the tear
Which falls, O honour'd Parent! on thy bier;-
Yet Nature will be heard, the heart will swell,
And the voice tremble with a last Farewell!

INTRODUCTION TO THE TALE OF THE
DARK LADIE.

THE following poem is intended as the introduction to a somewhat longer one. The use of the old ballad word Ladie for Lady, is the only piece of obsoleteness in it; and as it is professedly a tale of ancient

times, I trust that the affectionate lovers of venerable antiquity, as Camden says, will grant me their pardon, and perhaps may be induced to admit a force and propriety in it. A heavier objection may be adduced against the author, that in these times of fear and expectation, when novelties explode around us in all directions, he should presume to offer to the public a silly tale of old-fashioned love: and five years ago, I own I should have allowed and felt the force of this objection. But alas! explosion has succeeded explosion so rapidly, that novelty itself ceases to appear new; and it is possible that now, even a simple story, wholly uninspired with politics or personality, may find some attention amid the hubbub of revolutions, as to those who have remained a long time by the falls of Niagara, the lowest whispering becomes distinctly audible.

A cypress and a myrtle-bough

This morn around my harp you twin'd,

Because it fashion'd mournfully

Its murmurs in the wind.

And now a tale of love and woe,
A woful tale of love I sing;
Hark, gentle maidens, hark! it sighs
And trembles on the string.

But most, my own dear Genevieve,
It sighs and trembles most for thee!

1799.

O come and hear the cruel wrongs
Befell the Dark Ladie!*

And now once more a tale of woe,
A woful tale of love I sing;
For thee, my Genevieve! it sighs,
And trembles on the string.

When last I sang the cruel scorn

That craz'd this bold and lovely knight,
And how he roam'd the mountain-woods,
Nor rested day or night;

I promised thee a sister tale

Of man's perfidious cruelty;

Come, then, and hear what cruel wrong

Befell the Dark Ladie.

EPILOGUE TO THE RASH CONJUROR.

AN UNCOMPOSED POEM.

WE ask and urge-(here ends the story!)
All Christian Papishes to pray

That this unhappy Conjuror may,

Instead of Hell, be but in Purgatory,—
For then there's hope;-

Long live the Pope!

1805.

Here followed the stanzas, afterwards published separately under the title "Love." (Poet. Works, vol. i. p. 145. Pickering, 1834.) and after them came the other three stanzas printed above; the whole forming the introduction to the intended Dark Ladie, of which all that exists is to be found ibid. p. 150.

Ed.

PSYCHE.

THE butterfly the ancient Grecians made
The soul's fair emblem, and its only name-
But of the soul, escap'd the slavish trade

Of mortal life! For in this earthly frame

Ours is the reptile's lot, much toil, much blame,
Manifold motions making little speed,

And to deform and kill the things whereon we feed.

1808.

COMPLAINT.

How seldom, Friend! a good great man inherits
Honour or wealth, with all his worth and pains!
It sounds like stories from the land of spirits,
If any man obtain that which he merits,
Or any merit that which he obtains.

REPROOF.

FOR shame, dear Friend! renounce this canting strain!
What would'st thou have a good great man obtain?
Place-titles-salary-a gilded chain-

Or throne of corses which his sword hath slain?
Greatness and goodness are not means, but ends!
Hath he not always treasures, always friends,

The good great man ?-three treasures, love and light,
And calm thoughts, regular as infants' breath ;—
And three firm friends, more sure than day and night—
Himself, his Maker, and the angel Death.

1809.