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Their purport, uses, properties; assigned

To each his name significant, and, filled

With love and wisdom, rendered back to Heaven
In praise harmonious the first air he drew.

He was excused the penalties of dull

Minority.

No tutor charged his hand

With the thought-tracing quill, or tasked his mind
With problems. History, not wanted yet,

Leaned on her elbow, watching Time, whose course,
Eventful, should supply her with a theme.

1791.

TO THE NIGHTINGALE

WHICH THE AUTHOR HEARD SING ON NEW YEAR'S DAY, 1792.

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1792.

HASTINGS! I knew thee young, and of a mind,
While young, humane, conversable, and kind;
Nor can I well believe thee. gentle then,
Now grown a villain, and the worst of men ;
But rather some suspect who have oppressed
And worried thee, as not themselves the best.

LINES

WRITTEN FOR INSERTION IN A COLLECTION OF HANDWRITINGS AND SIGNATURES, MADE BY MISS PATTY, SISTER OF HANNAH MORE.

IN vain to live from age to age
While modern bards endeavour,
I write my name in Patty's page,
And gain my point for ever.

March 6, 1792.

W. COWPER.

TO WILLIAM WILBERFORCE, ESQ.
THY Country, Wilberforce, with just disdain,
Hears thee by cruel men and impious called
Fanatic, for thy zeal to loose the enthralled
From exile, public sale, and slavery's chain.
Friend of the poor, the wronged, the fetter-galled,
Fear not lest labour such as thine be vain!
Thou hast achieved a part; hast gained the ear

Of Britain's senate to thy glorious cause.

Hope smiles, joy springs, and though cold caution pause
And weave delay, the better hour is near

That shall remunerate thy toils severe

By peace for Afric, fenced with British laws.

Enjoy what thou hast won, esteem and love

From all the just on earth and all the blest above.

April 16, 1792.

TO DR. AUSTEN, OF CECIL STREET, LONDON.

AUSTEN! accept a grateful verse from me,

The poet's treasure, no inglorious fee.
Loved by the Muses, thy ingenuous mind
Pleasing requital in a verse may find;

Verse oft has dashed the scythe of Time aside,
Immortalizing names which else had died.

And oh! could I command the glittering wealth
With which sick kings are glad to purchase health,
Yet, if extensive fame, and sure to live,

Were in the power of verse like mine to give,

I would not recompense his heart with less,

Who, giving Mary health, heals my distress.

Friend of my friend!* I love thee, though unknown,
And boldly call thee, being his, my own.

May 26, 1792.

* Hayley.

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So when, from mountain tops, the dusky clouds

Ascending, &c.-(li. 488.)

QUALES aërii montis de vertice nubes

Cum surgunt, et jam Boreæ tumida ora quiêrunt,
Cælum hilares abdit, spissâ caligine, vultus:
Tum si jucundo tandem sol prodeat ore,
Et croceo montes et pascua lumine tingat,
Gaudent omnia, aves mulcent concentibus agros,
Balatuque ovium colles vallesque resultant.

TO WILLIAM HAYLEY, ESQ.

HAYLEY, thy tenderness fraternal, shown,
In our first interview, delightful guest!
To Mary, and me for her dear sake distressed,
Such as it is has made my heart thy own,

Though heedless now of new engagements grown :
For threescore winters make a wintry breast,
And I had purposed ne'er to go in quest
Of Friendship more, except with God alone.
But thou hast won me: nor is God my foe,
Who, ere this last afflictive scene began,
Sent thee to mitigate the dreadful blow,
My brother, by whose sympathy I know
Thy true deserts infallibly to scan,

Not more to admire the Bard than love the Man.

June 2, 1792.

CC

CATHARINA:

THE SECOND PART.

ON HER MARRIAGE TO GEORGE COURTENAY, ESQ.

BELIEVE it or not, as you chuse,

The doctrine is certainly true, That the future is known to the Muse, And poets are oracles too.

I did but express a desire

To see Catharina at home,

At the side of my friend George's fire, And lo-she is actually come.

Such prophecy some may despise,

But the wish of a poet and friend Perhaps is approved in the skies,

And therefore attains to its end. 'Twas a wish that flew ardently forth From a bosom effectually warmed With the talents, the graces, and worth Or the person for whom it was formed. June, 1792.

Maria* would leave us, I knew,

To the grief and regret of us all, But less to our grief, could we view Catharina the Queen of the Hall. And therefore I wished as I did,

And therefore this union of hands; Not a whisper was heard to forbid,

But all cry, Amen! to the banns. Since therefore I seem to incur

No danger of wishing in vain, When making good wishes for her, I will e'en to my wishes again; With one I have made her a wife,

And now I will try with another, Which I cannot suppress for my life,— How soon I can make her a mother

LINES ADDRESSED TO DR. DARWIN,

66 AUTHOR OF

THE BOTANIC GARDEN."

Two Poets,† (poets, by report,
Not oft so well agree)

Sweet Harmonist of Flora's court!
Conspire to honour thee.

They best can judge a poet's worth,
Who oft themselves have known

The pangs of a poetic birth

By labours of their own.

We therefore, pleased, extol thy song,
Though various, yet complete,
Rich in embellishment, as strong
And learned as 'tis sweet.

1792.

Lady Throckmorton.

No envy mingles with our praise,
Though, could our hearts repine
At any poet's happier lays,

They would, they must, at thine.
But we, in mutual bondage knit
Of friendship's closest tie,
Can gaze on even Darwin's wit
With an unjaundiced eye;

And deem the bard, whoe'er he be,

And howsoever known,

Who would not twine a wreath for thee, Unworthy of his own.

Alluding to the poem by Mr. Hayley, which accompanied these lines.

ON HIS APPROACHING VISIT TO HAYLEY.

THROUGH floods and flames to your retreat

I win my desperate way,

And when we meet, if e'er we meet,

July 29, 1792.

Will echo your huzza.

TO GEORGE ROMNEY, ESQ.

ON HIS PICTURE OF ME IN CRAYONS, DRAWN AT EARTHAM IN THE SIXTYFIRST YEAR OF MY AGE, AND IN THE MONTHS OF AUGUST AND SEPTEMBER, 1792.

ROMNEY, expert infallibly to trace

On chart or canvas, not the form alone
And semblance, but, however faintly shown,
The mind's impression too on every face,
With strokes that time ought never to erase;
Thou hast so pencilled mine, that though I own
The subject worthless, I have never known
The artist shining with superior grace.
But this I mark,-that symptoms none of woe
In thy incomparable work appear.

Well; I am satisfied it should be so,

Since, on maturer thought, the cause is clear;
For in my looks what sorrow couldst thou see
When I was Hayley's guest, and sat to thee?
October, 1792.

1792.

AN EPITAPH.

HERE lies one who never drew
Blood himself, yet many slew;
Gave the gun its aim, and figure
Made in field, yet ne'er pulled trigger.
Armed men have gladly made
Him their guide, and him obeyed;
At his signified desire,

Would advance, present, and fire.
Stout he was, and large of limb,
Scores have fled at sight of him!
And to all this fame he rose
Only following his nose.
Neptune was he called; not he
Who controls the boisterous sea,
But of happier command,
Neptune of the furrowed land;
And, your wonder vain to shorten,
Pointer to Sir John Throckmorton.

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