Lines

Upon a Diamond Cross,

WORN ON HER BOSOM BY MISS C.M.

Well on that neck, sweet Kitty! may you wear The sparkling cross, with hopes to soften Heaven; For trust me, tho’ so very young and fair, Thou hast some little sins to be forgiven:— For all the hopes which wit and grace can spread, For all the sighs which countless charms can move, Fall, lovely Kitty! on thy youthful head; Yet fall they gently—for the crime is love.

LINES TO FORTUNE,

Occasioned by a very amiable and generous Friend of mine munificently presenting Miss E.S. with a Donation of Fifteen Thousand Pounds.

Oh, Fortune! I have seen thee shed A plenteous show’r of treasure down On many a weak and worthless head, On those who but deserv’d thy frown.

And I have heard, in lonely shade, Her sorrows hapless Merit pour; And thou hast pass’d the drooping maid, To give some pamper’d fav’rite more.

But tho’ so cold, or strangely wild, It seems that worth can sometimes move; Thou hast on gentle Emma smil’d, And thou hast smil’d where all approve:—

For Nature form’d her gen’rous heart With ev’ry virtue, pure, refin’d; And wit and taste, and grace and art, United to illume her mind.

So dew-drops fall on some rare flow’r, That merits all their fost’ring care, As tho’ they knew that, by their pow’r, Grateful ’twould wider scent the air.

A SONG.

THE LOVER THE LUTE OF HIS DECEASED MISTRESS.

Alas! but like a summer’s dream All the delight I felt appears, While mis’ry’s weeping moments seem A ling’ring age of tears.

Then breathe my sorrows, plaintive lute! And pour thy soft consoling tone, While I, a list’ning mourner mute, Will call each tender grief my own.