MONODY ON A TEA-KETTLE.

O MUSE who sangest late another's pain, To griefs domestic turn thy coal-black steed! With slowest steps thy funeral steed must go, Nodding his head in all the pomp of woe: Wide scatter round each dark and deadly weed, And let the melancholy dirge complain, [run) (While bats shall shriek and dogs shall howling The teakettle is spoilt and Coleridge is undone! Your cheerful songs, ye unseen crickets cease! Let songs of grief your alter'd minds engage! For he who sang responsive to your lay, What time the joyous bubbles 'gan to play, The sooty swain has felt the fire's fierce rage;— Yes he is gone, and all my woes increase; I heard the water issuing from the woundNo more the tea shall pour its fragrant streams around!

O Goddess best beloved, delightful Tea! [vine?
With thee compar'd what yields the madd'ning
Sweet power! who know'st to spread the calm
delight,

And the pure joy prolong to midmost night!
Ah! must I all thy varied sweets resign?
Enfolded close in grief thy form I see;
No more wilt thou extend thy willing arms,
Receive the fervent Jove and yield him all thy
charms!

How sink the mighty low by Fate opprest!-
Perhaps O kettle! thou by scornful toe

Rude urg'd t' ignoble place with plaintive din,
May'st rust obscure midst heaps of vulgar tin;—
As if no joy had ever seiz'd my breast [fly,-
When from thy spout the streams did arching
As if infus'd thou ne'er hadst known t' inspire
All the warm raptures of poetic fire!

But hark! or do I fancy the glad voice

"What tho' the swain did wondrous charms dis

close

(Not such did Memnon's sister sable drest)
Take these bright arms with royal face imprest,
A better kettle shall thy soul rejoice,
And with Oblivion's wings o'erspread thy woes!"
Thus fairy Hope can soothe distress and toil;
On empty trivets she bids fancied kettles boil!

1790.

ABSENCE.

A FAREWELL ODE ON QUITTING SCHOOL FOR JESUS COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.

WHERE graced with many a classic spoil
Cam rolls his reverend stream along,

I haste to urge the learned toil

That sternly chides my love-lorn song:
Ah me! too mindful of the days
Illumed by Passion's orient rays,

When Peace, and Cheerfulness, and Health
Enriched me with the best of wealth.

Ah fair delights! that o'er my soul
On Memory's wing, like shadows fly!
Ah flowers! which Joy from Eden stole
While Innocence stood smiling by !—
But cease, fond heart! this bootless moan:
Those hours on rapid pinions flown
Shall yet return, by Absence crowned,
And scatter livelier roses round.
The sun who ne'er remits his fires
On heedless eyes may pour the day:
The moon, that oft from heaven retires,
Endears her renovated ray.

What though she leave the sky unblest
To mourn awhile in murky vest?
When she relumes her lovely light,
We bless the wanderer of the night.

SONNET.

ON THE SAME.

FAREWELL parental scenes! a sad farewell!
To you my grateful heart still fondly clings,
Tho' fluttering round on Fancy's burnish'd wings
Her tales of future joy Hope loves to tell.
Adieu, adieu! ye much lov'd cloisters pale!

Ah! would those happy days return again,
When 'neath your arches, free from every stain,
I heard of guilt and wonder'd at the tale!
Dear haunts! where oft my simple lays I sang,
Listening meanwhile the echoings of my feet,
Lingering I quit you, with as great a pang,
As when ere while, my weeping childhood, torn
By early sorrow from my native seat,

Mingled its tears with hers-my widow'd parent lorn.

TO THE MUSE.

THO' no bold flights to thee belong; And tho' thy lays with conscious fear, Shrink from Judgment's eye severe, Yet much I thank thee, spirit of my song! For, lovely Muse! thy sweet employ Exalts my soul, refines my breast, Gives each pure pleasure keener zest, And softens sorrow into pensive joy. From thee I learn'd the wish to bless, From thee to commune with my heart; From thee, dear Muse! the gayer part, To laugh with pity at the crowds, that press Where Fashion flaunts her robes by Folly spun, Whose hues gay varying wanton in the sun.

1789.

WITH FIELDING'S AMELIA.

VIRTUES and woes alike too great for man
In the soft tale oft claim the useless sigh;
For vain the attempt to realize the plan,
On folly's wings must imitation fly.
With other aim has Fielding here display'd
Each social duty and each social care;
With just yet vivid coloring portray'd

What every wife should be, what many are.
And sure the parent of a race so sweet
With double pleasure on the page shall dwell,
Each scene with sympathizing breast shall meet,
While Reason still with smiles delights to tell
Maternal hope, that her lov'd progeny
In all but Sorrows shall Amelias be!

ON RECEIVING AN ACCOUNT

THAT HIS ONLY SISTER'S DEATH WAS INEVITABLE.

THE tear which mourn'd a brother's fate scarce dry— Pain after pain, and woe succeeding woe

Is my heart destin'd for another blow?

O my sweet sister! and must thou too die?
Ah! how has Disappointment pour'd the tear
O'er infant Hope destroy'd by early frost!