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Here pause: the Poet claims at least this praise
That virtuous Liberty hath been the scope
Of his pure song, which did not shrink from hope
In the worst moment of these evil days;
From hope, the paramount duty that Heaven lays,
For its owu honour, on man's suffering heart.
Never may from our souls one truth depart,
That an accursed thing it is to gaze
On prosperous Tyrants with a dazzled eye;
Nor, touched with due abhorrence of their guilt
For whose dire ends tears flow, and blood is spilt,
And justice labours in extremity,
Forget thy weakness, upon which is built,
O wretched Man, the throne of Tyranny!
VOl. II. s

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Now that all hearts are glad, all faces bright,

Our aged Sovereign sits ;—to the ebb and flow

Of states and kingdoms, to their joy or woe

Insensible;—he sits deprived of sight,

And lamentably wrapped in twofold night,

Whom no weak hopes deceived,—whose mind ensued,

Through perilous war, with regal fortitude,

Peace that should claim respect from lawless Might.

Dread King of Kings, vouchsafe a ray divine

To his forlorn condition! let thy grace

Upon his inner soul in mercy shine;

Permit his heart to kindle, and embrace,

(Though were it only for a moment's space)

The triumphs of this hour; for they are Thine I




By Persons resident in the country and attached to rural objects, many places will be found unnamed or of unknown names, where little Incidents will have occurred, or feelings been experienced, which will have given to such places a private and peculiar interest. From a wish to give some sort of record to such Incidents, or renew the gratification of such Feelings, Names have been given to Places by the Author and some of his Friends, and the following Poems written in consequence.




It was an April morning: fresh and clear

The Rivulet, delighting in its strength,

Ran with a young man's speed; and yet the voice

Of waters which the winter had supplied

Was softened down into a vernal tone.

The spirit of enjoyment and desire,

And hopes and wishes, from all living things

Went circling, like a multitude of sounds.

The budding groves appeared as if in haste

To spur the steps of June; as if their shades

Of various green were hindrances that stood

Between them and their object: yet, meanwhile,

There was such deep contentment in the air

That every naked ash, and tardy tree

Yet leafless, seemed as though the countenance

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