Palma fuit Senior pictor celeberrimus olim ;
Sed palmam cedat, modò si foret ille superstes,
Palma, Haydone, tibi: tu palmas omnibus aufers.

Palma negata macrum, donataque reddit opimum.
Si simul incipiat cum famâ increscere corpus,
Tu citò pinguesces, fies et, amicule, obesus.

Affectant lauros pictores atque poetæ,

Sin laurum invideant (sed quis tibi ?) laurigerentes,
Pro lauro palmâ viridanti tempora cingas.

TRANSLATION.

WHAT rider's that? and who those myriads bringing
Him on his way with palms, Hosannas singing?
Hosanna to the Christ, Heaven-Earth-should still be ringing.

In days of old, old Palma won renown:

But Palma's self must yield the painter's crown,
Haydon, to thee. Thy palms put every other down.

If Flaccus' sentence with the truth agree,

That "palms awarded make men plump to be,"

Friend Horace, Haydon soon in bulk shall match with thee.

Painters with poets for the laurel vie :

But should the laureat band thy claims deny,

Wear thou thy own green palm, Haydon, triumphantly.

DRAMATIC POEMS.

THE WITCH.

A DRAMATIC SKETCH OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.

CHARACTERS.

Old Servant in the Family of SIR FRANCIS FAIRFORD. STRANGER

Servant. One summer night Sir Francis, as it chanced,

Was pacing to and fro in the avenue

That westward fronts our house,

Among those agèd oaks, said to have been planted

Three hundred years ago

By a neighbouring Prior of the Fairford name.

Being o'ertasked in thought, he heeded not

The importunate suit of one who stood by the gate,
And begged an alms.

Some say he shoved her rudely from the gate
With angry chiding; but I can never think
(Our master's nature hath a sweetness in it)
That he could use a woman, an old woman,
With such discourtesy: but he refused her-
And better had he met a lion in his path
Than that old woman that night;

For she was one who practised the black arts,

And served the devil, being since burnt for witchcraft.

She looked on him as one that meant to blast him,

And with a frightful noise

('Twas partly like a woman's voice,

And partly like the hissing of a snake),

She nothing said but this

(Sir Francis told the words) :

G

A mischief, mischief, mischief,
And a nine-times-killing curse,

By day and by night, to the caitiff wight,
Who shakes the poor like snakes from his door,
And shuts up the womb of his purse.

And still she cried

A mischief,

And a nine-fold-withering curse:

For that shall come to thee that will undo thee,
Both all that thou fearest, and worse.

So saying she departed,

Leaving Sir Francis like a man beneath
Whose feet a scaffolding was suddenly falling;

So he described it.

Str. A terrible curse! What followed?

Serv. Nothing immediate, but some two months after Young Philip Fairford suddenly fell sick,

And none could tell what ailed him; for he lay,

And pined, and pined, till all his hair fell off,

And he, that was full-fleshed, became as thin

As a two-months' babe that had been starved in the nursing. And sure I think

He bore his death-wound like a little child;

With such rare sweetness of dumb melancholy

He strove to clothe his agony in smiles,

Which he would force up in his poor pale cheeks,

Like ill-timed guests that had no proper dwelling there;

And when they asked him his complaint, he laid

His hand upon his heart to show the place,

Where Susan came to him a-nights, he said,

And pricked him with a pin.

And thereupon Sir Francis called to mind
The beggar-witch that stood by the gateway
And begged an alms.

Str. But did the witch confess?

Serv. All this and more at her death.

Str. I do not love to credit tales of magic.

Heaven's music, which is order, seems unstrung,

And this brave world

(The mystery of God) unbeautified,

Disordered, marred, where such strange things are acted.

THE WIFE'S TRIAL; OR THE INTRUDING WIDOW.

A DRAMATIC POEM.

Founded on Mr. Crabbe's Tale of "The Confidant."

CHARACTERS.

MR. SELBY, a Wiltshire Gentleman.

KATHERINE, Wife to Selby.

LUCY, Sister to Selby.
MRS. FRAMPTON, a Widow,

SERVANTS.

SCENE.-At Mr. Selby's House, or in the grounds adjacent.

Selby. Do not too far mistake me, gentlest wife;
I meant to chide your virtues, not yourself,

And those too with allowance. I have not
Been blest by thy fair side with five white years
Of smooth and even wedlock, now to touch
With any strain of harshness on a string
Hath yielded me such music. 'Twas the quality
Of a too grateful nature in my Katherine,
That to the lame performance of some vows,
And common courtesies of man to wife,
Attributing too much, hath sometimes seemed
To esteem as favours what in that blest union
Are but reciprocal and trivial dues,

As fairly yours as mine: 'twas this I thought
Gently to reprehend.

Kath.

In friendship's barter

The riches we exchange should hold some level
And corresponding worth. Jewels for toys
Demand some thanks thrown in. You took me, sir,
To that blest haven of my peace, your bosom,
An orphan foundered in the world's black storm.
Poor, you have made me rich; from lonely maiden,
Your cherished and your full-accompanied wife.

Selby. But to divert the subject: Kate too fond,
I would not wrest your meanings; else that word
Accompanied, and full-accompanied too,

Might raise a doubt in some men, that their wives

At random shot; but if it hit, believe me,

I am most sorry to have wounded you

Through a friend's side. I know not how we have swerved
From our first talk. I was to caution you

Against this fault of a too grateful nature:
Which, for some girlish obligations past,
In that relenting season of the heart,
When slightest favours pass for benefits
Of endless binding, would entail upon you
An iron slavery of obsequious duty

To the proud will of an imperious woman.

Kath. The favours are not slight to her I owe.
Selby. Slight or not slight, the tribute she exacts
Cancels all dues.
[A voice within.

Even now I hear her call you

In such a tone as lordliest mistresses

Expect a slave's attendance. Prithee, Kate,
Let her expect a brace of minutes or so.

Say you are busy. Use her by degrees
To some less hard exactions.

But it troubles me.

A visit of three days, as was pretended,
Spun to ten tedious weeks, and no hint given
When she will go! I would this buxom Widow
Were a thought handsomer! I'd fairly try
My Katherine's constancy; make desperate love
In seeming earnest ; and raise up such broils,
That she, not I, should be the first to warn
The insidious guest depart.

Re-enter KATHERINE,

So soon returned!

What was our Widow's will?

A trifle, sir.

Kath.

Selby. Some toilet service-to adjust her head,
Or help to stick a pin in the right place-
Kath. Indeed 'twas none of these.

Selby.

Or new vamp up

The tarnished cloak she came in. I have seen her