INTENDED FOR

AN ARBOUR AT BLACKHEATH,

Erected on the Grounds of Sir Gregory Page, and in view of the
Ruins of his Mansion.

STRANGER or friend, whose steps have reach'd this spot,
To nature dear, pause, and, ere you approach,
Banish corroding care and anxious thought,
Which in this calm retreat no welcome find;
For rural quiet here hath fix'd her home:
The yellow primrose, the sweet Virgin's bower
In all its various hues, the trailing woodbine,
The modest violet, and each gaudy rose
That scents the summer, or the autumnal scene,
Offer their choicest sweets; the feather'd choir
Make vocal every spray; the country round,
So rich in verdure and so distant spread,
Delights the kindling eye; yon fallen fabric,
Once the resort of grandeur and of wealth,
And splendid e'en in ruin, speaks a truth,
Howe'er discordant to the ear of man,
That he should welcome-powerfully it declares
All human greatness hastens to decay,
Virtue alone an amaranthine blooms.

a The mansion of Sir Gregory Page Turner, now in ruins.

SONNET TO SPRING.

I LOVE to scent the early vernal air,

To seek the violet in its deep recess,

To tear the primrose from its humble bed,

And bid them shed their beauties round my home; Or if perchance the bubbling brook is near,

I haste and pluck the cool refreshing cress.

What though the atmosphere be damp and chill,
And moist the yielding soil beneath my feet,

Brisk exercise can chase these ills
away:
And then, how sweet the choristers of air
Strain every note to hail returning spring!
Thus every sense regaled, to Heaven I raise
The notes of praise, of thankfulness. and love,
Who form'd my soul to joy in nature's charms.

MOONLIGHT SKETCH

FROM

THE PIER OF RAMSGATE,

1806.

How sweetly on the surface of the sea,
Fann'd by the gentlest breeze that nature yields,
The moon-beams sparkle on the rippling wave,
As though the lustrous diamond cavern'd there,
But fleeting as the momentary ray,

That brilliant gem emits;-the flowing tide.

Urges its silvery wave along the sands

Like liquid ore pour'd from the melted mass;

The light-house throws its broad and dazzling light,

A friendly beacon to the tempest-tost,

Benighted mariner; it seems to say,

From dangerous seas here calm and safety dwell.

The Pier, a vast, stupendous work of art,
Expands its bold and wide encircling arms,
A refuge or from shipwreck, or from storm

ON ADVERSITY.

MISFORTUNE's hand may tear away my wealth,
Despoil my fields, and lay my gardens waste,
Yet not bereave me of loved nature's charms.
The verdant meads, the yellow waving corn,
The new mown hay, the melody of birds,

The pomp of groves, the sweets of early morn,

The rural walk at eve, or the more calm

And solemn hour of night: she cannot shade
Spring's early blossoms, summer's gay attire,
Or autumn's richer hues: she cannot hide
The moon's mild radiance, or the brighter beams
Of yonder setting sun: she cannot veil

The spangled firmament, through which the mind,
Upborn on meditation's wing, will soar,

Sublime, to untold worlds-to nature's God:

She cannot rob me of my hopes of heaven.

SENT TO THE LATE

MRS. S. PARSONS OF MELKSHAM,

WITH AN EDITION OF

ROGERS'S PLEASURES OF MEMORY,'

NEATLY BOUND IN WHITE CALF.

Go! little book! unadorned as thou art, and insensible of thy happy destiny; oft may thy chaste page recal to remembrance of my absent friend the pleasing incidents of hours long past, which, tenderly treasured in memory, possess more than the energies of present pleasures. Should any inquire, why sent on such an embassy in so plain an attire? Why you were not gorgeously decorated and covered with the crimson mantle? Tell them, that she whom you are destined to charm, regards not the tinselled exterior, too often the substitute of internal worth; tell them, that she whose hours you occasionally may beguile is herself an example, how preferable are the adornings of a meek and quiet spirit, to the gaudy trappings of fashion's favourite daughters.