That ever witness'd rural loves;
Then, if my passion fail to please,"
Next night I'll be content to freeze;
No more I'll give a loose to laughter,
But curse my fate, for ever after.1

TO A BEAUTIFUL QUAKER."

SWEET girl! though only once we met,
That meeting I shall ne'er forget;

i. There if my passion.-[4to. P. on V. Occasions.]

I. In the above little piece the author has been accused by some candid readers of introducing the name of a lady [Julia Leacroft] from whom he was some hundred miles distant at the time this was written; and poor Juliet, who has slept so long in "the tomb of all the Capulets," has been converted, with a trifling alteration of her name, into an English damsel, walking in a garden of their own creation, during the month of December, in a village where the author never passed a winter. Such has been the candour of some ingenious critics. We would advise these liberal commentators on taste and arbiters of decorum to read Shakespeare.

Having heard that a very severe and indelicate censure has been passed on the above poem, I beg leave to reply in a quotation from an admired work, Carr's Stranger in France. "As we were contemplating a painting on a large scale, in which, among other figures, is the uncovered whole length of a warrior, a prudish-looking lady, who seemed to have touched the age of desperation, after having attentively surveyed it through her glass, observed to her party that there was a great deal of indecorum in that picture. Madame S. shrewdly whispered in my ear 'that the indecorum was in the remark.'"-[Ed. 1803, cap. xvi. p. 171. Compare the note on verses addressed "To a Knot of Ungenerous Critics," p. 213.]

2. ["Whom the author saw at Harrowgate."-Annotated copy of P. on V. Occasions, p. 64 (British Museum).]

And though we ne'er may meet again,
Remembrance will thy form retain ;
I would not say, "I love," but still,
My senses struggle with my will:

In vain to drive thee from my breast,
My thoughts are more and more represt ;
In vain I check the rising sighs,
Another to the last replies:

Perhaps, this is not love, but yet,
Our meeting I can ne'er forget.

What, though we never silence broke, Our eyes a sweeter language spoke ; The tongue in flattering falsehood deals, And tells a tale it never feels:

Deceit, the guilty lips impart,

And hush the mandates of the heart;

But soul's interpreters, the eyes,

Spurn such restraint, and scorn disguise.

As thus our glances oft convers'd,
And all our bosoms felt rehears'd,

No spirit, from within, reprov'd us,
Say rather, "'twas the spirit mov'd us."
Though, what they utter'd, I repress,
Yet I conceive thou'lt partly guess;
For as on thee, my memory ponders,
Perchance to me, thine also wanders.
This, for myself, at least, I'll say,

Thy form appears through night, through day;
Awake, with it my fancy teems,

In sleep, it smiles in fleeting dreams;
The vision charms the hours away,

And bids me curse Aurora's ray
For breaking slumbers of delight,
Which make me wish for endless night.
Since, oh! whate'er my future fate,
Shall joy or woe my steps await;
Tempted by love, by storms beset,
Thine image, I can ne'er forget.

Alas! again no more we meet,
No more our former looks repeat;
Then, let me breathe this parting prayer,

The dictate of my bosom's care :

"May Heaven so guard my lovely quaker,

That anguish never can o'ertake her;

That peace

and virtue ne'er forsake her,

But bliss be aye her heart's partaker!

Oh! may the happy mortal, fated
To be, by dearest ties, related,

i.

For her, each hour, new joys discover,ii.
And lose the husband in the lover!

i. The Quarto inserts the following lines :"No jealous passion shall invade, No envy that pure heart pervade; For he that revels in such charms, Can never seek another's arms. new joy discover.-[4to]

ii.

May that fair bosom never know

What 'tis to feel the restless woe,

Which stings the soul, with vain regret,

Of him, who never can forget!"

TO LESBIA !i. 1

I.

LESBIA! since far from you I've rang'd,ii.
Our souls with fond affection glow not;
You say, 'tis I, not you, have chang'd,

I'd tell you why, but yet I know not.

1806.

2.

Your polish'd brow no cares have crost ;

And Lesbia! we are not much older,"

Since, trembling, first my heart I lost,

iii.

Or told my love, with hope grown bolder.

.3.

Sixteen was then our utmost age,

Two years have lingering pass'd away, love! And now new thoughts our minds engage,

At least, I feel disposed to stray, love!

i. To Julia.-[4to]

ii. Julia since.-[4to] iii. And Julia.-[4to]

1. ["The lady's name was Julia Leacroft" (Note by Miss E. Pigot). The word "Julia " (?) is added, in a lady's hand, in the annotated copy of P. on V. Occasions, p. 52 (British Museum).]

4.

'Tis that am alone to blame,

I, that am guilty of love's treason;

Since your sweet breast is still the same,
Caprice must be my only reason.

5.

I do not, love! suspect your truth,

With jealous doubt my bosom heaves not;

Warm was the passion of my youth,

One trace of dark deceit it leaves not.

6.

No, no, my flame was not pretended;

For, oh! I lov'd you most sincerely; And though our dream at last is ended My bosom still esteems you dearly.

7.

No more we meet in yonder bowers;

Absence has made me prone to roving; i

But older, firmer hearts than ours

Have found monotony in loving.

8.

Your cheek's soft bloom is unimpair'd,

New beauties, still, are daily bright'ning, Your eye, for conquest beams prepar'd,ii.

The forge of love's resistless lightning. i. Perhaps my soul's too pure for roving.—[4to] ii. Your eye for conquest comes prepar'd.-[4to]