VIII.

Down the river did glide, with wind and with tide,

A pig with vast celerity;

And the Devil look'd wise as he saw how the while, It cut its own throat. "There!" quoth he with a smile, "Goes England's commercial prosperity."

IX.

As he went through Cold-Bath Fields he saw

A solitary cell;

And the Devil was pleased, for it gave him a hint
For improving his prisons in Hell.

X.

He saw a Turnkey in a trice

Fetter a troublesome blade,

"Nimbly," quoth he, "do the fingers move If a man be but used to his trade."

XI.

He saw the same Turnkey unfetter a man

With but little expedition,

Which put him in mind of the long debate

On the Slave-trade abolition.

quid. habent, "trade." Though indeed the trade, i. e. the bibliopolic, so called Kaт' ¿¿óxην, may be regarded as Life sensu eminentiori; a suggestion, which I owe to a young retailer in the hosiery line, who on hearing a description of the net profits, dinner parties, country houses, &c., of the trade, exclaimed, "Ay! that's what I call Life now!"-This "Life, our Death," is thus happily contrasted with the fruits of authorship-Sic nos non nobis mellificamus apes.

Of this poem, which with the Fire, Famine, and Slaughter, first appeared in the Morning Post, the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 9th, and 16th stanzas were dictated by Mr. Southey. See Apologetic Preface.

If any one should ask who General meant, the Author begs leave to inform him, that he did once see a red-faced person in a dream whom by the dress he took for a General; but he might have been mistaken, and most certainly he did not hear any names mentioned. In simple verity, the author never meant any one, or indeed any thing but to put a concluding stanza to his doggerel.

XII.

He saw an old acquaintance

As he passed by a Methodist meeting;— She holds a consecrated key,

And the Devil nods her a greeting.

XIII.

She turned up her nose, and said, "Avaunt! my name's Religion," And she looked to Mr.

And leered like a love-sick pigeon.

XIV.

He saw a certain minister

(A minister to his mind) Go up into a certain House, With a majority behind.

XV.

The Devil quoted Genesis,

Like a very learned clerk,
How "Noah and his creeping things
Went up into the Ark."

XVI.

He took from the poor,

And he gave to the rich,

And he shook hands with a Scotchman,
For he was not afraid of the

He saw with consternation,

And back to hell his way did take,

For the Devil thought by a slight mistake
It was general conflagration.

Sep. 6, 1799.

II-LOVE POEMS.

Quas humilis tenero stylus olim effudit in ævo,
Perlegis hic lacrymas, et quod pharetratus acuta
Ille puer puero fecit mihi cuspide vulnus.
Omnia paulatim consumit longior ætas,
Vivendoque simul morimur, rapimurque manendo.
Ipse mihi collatus enim non ille videbor:

Frons alia est, moresque alii, nova mentis imago,
Voxque aliud sonat-

Pectore nunc gelido calidos miseremur amantes,
Janque arsisse pudet. Veteres tranquilla tumultus
Mens horrot, relegensque alium putat ista locutum.

LEWTI,

OR THE CIRCASSIAN LOVE-CHAUNT.

AT midnight by the stream I roved,
To forget the form I loved.
Image of Lewti! from my mind
Depart; for Lewti is not kind.

PETRARCE.

The Moon was high, the moonlight gleam
And the shadow of a star

Heaved upon Tamaha's stream;
But the rock shone brighter far,
The rock half sheltered from my view
By pendent boughs of tressy yew—
So shines my Lewti's forehead fair,
Gleaming through her sable hair.
Image of Lewti! from my mind
Depart; for Lewti is not kind.

I saw a cloud of palest hue,
Onward to the moon it passed;
Still brighter and more bright it grew,
With floating colours not a few,

Till it reached the moon at last:
Then the cloud was wholly bright,
With a rich and amber light!
And so with many a hope I seek,

And with such joy I find my Lewti;
And even so my pale wan cheek

Drinks in as deep a flush of beauty! Nay, treacherous image! leave my mind, If Lewti never will be kind.

The little cloud-it floats away,
Away it goes; away so soon?
Alas! it has no power to stay:
Its hues are dim, its hues are grey-
Away it passes from the moon!
How mournfully it seems to fly,
Ever fading more and more,
To joyless regions of the sky-
And now 'tis whiter than before!
As white as my poor cheek will be,
When, Lewti! on my couch I lie,
A dying man for love of thee.
Nay, treacherous image! leave my
And yet, thou didst not look unkind.

I saw a vapour in the sky,
Thin, and white, and very high;
I ne'er beheld so thin a cloud:

Perhaps the breezes that can fly

mind

Now below and now above,

Have snatched aloft the lawny shroud
Of Lady fair-that died for love.

For maids, as well as youths, have perished
From fruitless love too fondly cherished.
Nay, treacherous image! leave my mind-
For Lewti never will be kind.

Hush! my heedless feet from under
Slip the crumbling banks for ever:
Like echoes to a distant thunder,

They plunge into the gentle river.
The river-swans have heard my tread,
And startle from their reedy bed.
O beauteous birds! methinks ye measure
Your movements to some heavenly tune!
O beauteous birds! 'tis such a pleasure
To see you move beneath the moon,
I would it were your true delight
To sleep by day and wake all night.

I know the place where Lewti lies,
When silent night has closed her eyes:
It is a breezy jasmine-bower,
The nightingale sings o'er her head:
Voice of the night! had I the power
That leafy labyrinth to thread,

And creep,

like thee, with soundless tread, I then might view her bosom white Heaving lovely to my sight,

As these two swans together heave
On the gently swelling wave.