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^wm^w 
 
 CARMINA MINIMA. 
 
 By 
 
 CHARLES COWDEN CLARKE. 
 
 -" Mot^s in the Sonn6 beame." 
 Chaucer. 
 
 1859. 
 
Ka^KoIz^ 
 
 J. ALFRED NOVELLO, 
 TYPOGKAPHICAL MUSIC AND GENERAL PRINTER, 
 DEAN STREET, SOHO, LONDON. 
 
Prefi 
 
 ace. 
 
 'T^HIS knot of " unconfidered Trifles" (which cer- 
 -*- tainly Autolycus himfelf would not care to " fnap 
 up") was intended only for private circulation, — as a 
 keepfake araj^ memorial of old and fweet friendfhips ; of 
 cordial"a^uaintances ; and of abounding hofpitalities. 
 
 The old faying however recurred to me ; — " There 
 be many that do know the Lord Mayor's Jefler ; but 
 whom the Lord Mayor's Jefter doth not know : '-' and 
 fo, I, in my late public capacity of ledturer, may poflefs 
 numerous unrecognized friends among my audiences, 
 who might defire to retain fome fmall memento of one, 
 who claimed, at all events, the merit of an honeft zeal 
 and afEduity in adminiftering to their intelledlual demands 
 and recreation : — I therefore determined upon the ufual, 
 open form of publication. 
 
 The compofitions themfelves are cafual thoughts, 
 fcatteredj at long intervals, over more than a half century 
 of varied, bufy, and every-day mental employment. 
 They accurately fulfil the prefent intention of their 
 author concerning them ; fince, being " Trifles," they 
 betoken his " Refpedt" in this, their prefentation. 
 
 Nice, Nov. 1858. 
 
Carmina Minima. 
 
 Prologue 
 
 To a School Play. 
 
 IN times of yore, when our fir ft Edward reign'd ; 
 (Edward, whofe brows by patriot blood were ftain'd) 
 In times of yore, when learning in our ifle 
 Dar'd not aflume her prefent winning fmile ; 
 When dark-ey'd fuperftition's icy hand 
 Benumb'd th' afpiring genius of the land ; 
 The Britifli Drama firft began her courfe : 
 Weak in its onfet, feeble as the fource 
 Of great Maragnon^ whofe gigantic wave 
 Rolls on (by thoufand rills enhanc'd) to lave 
 Each fertile region, gladdening as he rolls. 
 Even fo, our Drama, breaking from the thralls 
 
[2j 
 
 Of purblind ignorance^ firft wound her way. 
 Her ftream was fmall^ and weak her firft eflay ; 
 And our firft adlor was the Parlfh Clerk ! 
 A man not quite the fitteft form'd to work 
 Upon the feelings, or to roufe the mind 
 To deeds of fame — unlefs perchance you find 
 That Edward's Clerks were far more erudite 
 Than thofe whom we are doom'd to hear recite 
 Sublimeft truths in quaint and vulgar tone. 
 The tafte improv'd as men had wifer grown. 
 And plays were play'd by dramatifts alone. 
 
 Then mighty Shakefpeare burft to life and light ! 
 The genius of our Drama hail'd the fight ; 
 And darted forth, exulting, on the wings of fame, 
 To publifii to the world her vlftory, and claim 
 The wreaths that long had been the bright rewards 
 Beftow'd on Grecian, and on Roman bards. 
 
 Our author, who to-night implores your fmile 
 On this, his firft attempt, — though puerile, — 
 Begs me to warn you from the ill-tim'd laugh : 
 For you muft be inform'd that more than half 
 Is Shakefpeare's language blended with his own ; 
 And with fuch art, that they can fcarce be known 
 Afunder. You, therefore, that are well read 
 In Shakefpeare, muft be cautious ere you fpread 
 
[3] 
 
 The fneer farcaftic, fince you may be found 
 
 Committing facrilege on bardic ground. 
 
 Our author and his friends in nought have fpar'd 
 
 expenfe ; 
 
 And you yourfelves can teftify their diligence ; 
 
 Then give them your applaufe — their fweeteft recom- 
 
 penfe. 
 
 1806. 
 
 Sunfet. 
 
 An irregular effujion. 
 
 OH liow exquifite is this ftillnefs ! 
 The vulgar fhout, and more obtrufive laugh 
 Are now confin'd within thofe magic walls 
 Licenc'd by the State. Never did I fee 
 So grand a funfet ! The whole expanfe 
 Is liquid gold ; and not a cloud has dar'd 
 To intercept the flood of glory. 
 " Dark with th' excelTive bright, the ' trees ' appear," 
 Waving their locks majefl:ic to the orb 
 Of day. Now all the tiny habitants 
 Of air are wheeling round and round my head^ 
 Shouting their vefpers to the parting day. 
 Their little congregated voices found 
 Like gladfome boys at play — heard from afar. 
 
[4] 
 
 Around me every objed: beams with joy. 
 The wide-extended fields of golden corn, — 
 Untorn by ftorms of wind, and lafhing hail, — 
 Gently bow their heads to the foft ftep 
 Of balmy zephyrs dancing o'er their furface. 
 All — all are glad ! — I too am glad as they : 
 Glad to be born free as my native air : 
 Free was I born ; and free will I remain. 
 Glad in my friends : and glad to own a heart 
 Boundlefs as the deep ; warm as yonder glow ; 
 Leaping to cheer the perfecuted foul ; 
 And grateful for the bleflings fhower'd around. 
 
 1805. 
 
 The Nightingale. 
 
 WHAT time the fun has wheel'd into the deep 
 His fiery car, and evening cold and pale. 
 
 In ruflet clad, and zone begemm'd 
 
 With dewy pearls, in fober ftate 
 " Comes walking o'er the brow of yon high eaftern hill" 
 The Nightingale begins his tale of love : 
 
 Small in the onfet, and abrupt : 
 
 Now in a loud and filver tone 
 Of extacy : — Now in a fimple ftrain 
 So love-lorn, and indeed fo full of ruth, 
 
[5] 
 
 As though his little heart would burft : 
 
 Like to thofe fudden dying falls, 
 Struck from that airy harp by light-wing'd fays 
 Flitting o'er the firings. Sweeteft warbler ! fay — 
 
 What forrows can afflid thy breaft. 
 
 Thou haft no ftiining friend to fpoil 
 Thee of thy mate : no oily villain thou. 
 To lure thy little partner from her home. 
 
 Senfelefs of thefe woes — happy bird ! 
 
 Happy bird ! — thou'rt in Paradife ! 
 
 1807. 
 
 Horace. 
 
 Book I., Ode XI. 
 " Tu ne qujefiris (fcire nefas)." 
 
 I ADVISE, my dear Tom, that you never demand 
 What limits the Gods have prefcrib'd to our days ; 
 Nor confult Mr. Andrews* — that notable hand 
 At nativity-cafting : believe me, 'tis bafe. 
 
 'Twere better to bear with an equable mind 
 
 Our lots, good or bad, as they're fent from above ; 
 
 Not caring if this be the laft winter's wind 
 
 That blows over our heads ; or whether great Jove 
 
 * Succeflbr to Moore, the Almanack-maker and Aftrologer. 
 
[6] 
 
 Has many bright days for us laid up in ftore. 
 
 Be wife, then, and quaff your Madeira; — leave forrow: 
 For e'en while we talk. Time has fled on before ; 
 
 Then feize faft his forelock, and truft not to-morrow. 
 
 1809. 
 
 To my Sifter, 
 
 On her birth-day. 
 
 T) LESS thee, my Bell ! again with fincere joy 
 -*-^ I hail thy birth. The day, like angel's face 
 
 Is beautifully clear and calm ; — no trace 
 Of weeping cloud. The rich-hair'd^ lufty boy 
 Of morn (like him of old, who made a toy 
 
 Of arms and fteeled foes) with awful grace 
 Shakes out his golden locks, and fl:rides apace 
 Through Heav'n, making all nature reel with joy. 
 
 To meet th' occafion of this noble day. 
 
 Each field is decked with a coronet 
 Of dainty flowers. With flender, dewy ray 
 
 The primrofe meekly fmiles^ and dear violet 
 
 That fl:ole its fcent from Heav'n For thee they bloom : 
 
 For thee they fmile : for thee fling round this fweet 
 perfume. 
 
 i8i6. 
 
[7] 
 Song. 
 
 A S night-rain to the parched tree ; 
 -^ ^ Or to the flag the fountain-wine ; 
 As honey-dew to the eager bee, 
 Such was thy mouth to mine. 
 
 Like peaches on a fingle ftem, 
 
 Unbofom'd to the golden fun. 
 Oh, I would kifs, — and kifs like them ; 
 
 And, like them, ripen into one. 
 
 np_ * * * * 
 
 "TXO not think my heart is gay, 
 
 -*-^ When I am join'd to fcenes of gladnefs ; 
 
 For ftill the thought of thee, — away, 
 
 Will rife, and fmite my heart with fadnefs. 
 
 For I do love, and prize thee fo. 
 That I could hate myfelf for taking 
 
 Part in mirth, the while I know 
 
 For love of one that heart is aching. 
 
 Yet art thou here, where'er I go. 
 With all thy noblenefs to cheer me ; 
 
 And all thy love, — which none can know, — 
 In blefled thoughts are ever near me. 
 
[8] 
 
 And thus, though fevef'd by a living death. 
 
 Thy finer fpirit walks out to my need ; 
 
 Like the meek violet's delicious breath. 
 
 Though crulh'd itfelf beneath an ugly weed. 
 
 1817. 
 
 Song. 
 
 T LOVE the talking of the giddy breeze ; 
 ■^ And the quick ripple of the ocean ; 
 And the waving of high foreft trees ; 
 And the clouds' eternal motion. 
 
 But more than thefe I love a calm fo deep. 
 That I but ihifik the breeze is nigh ; 
 
 When woods and clouds are ftill as flocks afleep ; 
 And ocean like the marble flcy. 
 
 So have I lov'd the low, fweet voice and clear 
 
 Of that unreproving mouth ; 
 Whofe notes ftill hang upon my mem'ry's ear, 
 
 Like fairy tales in early youth. 
 
 But when my eyes thofe eyes would meet. 
 
 And each a mute entreater. 
 Oh, then my heart indeed would beat ; — 
 For though the words of love are fweet. 
 
 The thoughts of love are fweeter. 
 
 1817. 
 
[9] 
 
 To Vincent Novello. 
 
 GAY fays, — no doubt you recoiled; it, — 
 " Friendfhip, like Love, is but a name, 
 " Unlefs to one you ftint the flame." 
 But who the Devil would expeft it, — 
 Since friends are few, and fewer found 
 Sweet to the core ; and firm, and found ; 
 That having one friend, I am bound 
 To flight the ofi^er of a fecond, and rejedt it ? 
 
 Befides, you know, — or ought to know it, — 
 
 That I'm a pluralifl:, — at leafl; 
 
 In friends ; and (which is more) am blefl; 
 In my feledion, and can fliow it. 
 
 Shall I then fue for a divorce ; 
 
 And cut off^ each collateral fource 
 
 Of joy ; — all merely to give force 
 To Mr. Gay's aflertion ? — I'll not do it ! 
 
 No ! but whene'er I meet a fellow, 
 
 Whofe heart feems of the good old breed ; 
 Plain and uncourtly ; and yet freed 
 
 From four feverity ; and mellow 
 
c 
 
 With deeds of love and gentlenefs, I'll bear him 
 
 My worfhip ; and with pride declare him 
 
 '' Friend ! " and " in my heart I'll wear him, — 
 
 ''^ My heart of hearts, as I do thee, ' Novello.' " 
 
 1818. 
 
 Song 
 
 On Old May Morning. 
 
 Set to Mufic by Vincent Novello. 
 OMEj Lie away, away with me ; 
 Away, my love, to the greenwood tree. 
 The fun has left his ocean bed ; 
 
 The happy lark is on the wing ; 
 Let no one talk of drowfihed. 
 
 For this is " Old May Morning ! " 
 
 Then hie away, etc. 
 
 We'll fit beneath the flowering bough. 
 And hear the thrufh his bridal fing; 
 
 And I will deck thy gentle brow 
 With gems of Old May Morning. 
 
 Then hie away, etc. 
 
 Pale primrofe, and blue violet ; 
 
 Cowflip, with head down turning ; 
 Shall form thy fylvan coronet. 
 
 My Queen of Old May Morning. 
 
 Then hie away, etc. 
 
And thus the hours fhall glide along 
 
 On dove-like, blefled wing ; 
 And we will fing our woodland fong 
 
 To welcome Old May Morning. 
 
 Then hie away, etc. 
 
 And when the day is well-nigh told, 
 
 And we are home returning ; 
 We'll talk of thofe in times of old, 
 
 Who danc'd on Old May Morning. 
 Then hie away, etc. 
 
 The Four Seafons. 
 
 An imitation and continuation of the oldeft known Engli/h 
 
 Jong, — the Jecond Jlanza forming a portion of the 
 
 original. 
 
 s 
 
 SPRINGE is yeomen in ; 
 Dappled Larke finge : 
 Snowe melteth ; 
 Runnelle pelteth ; 
 Smelleth winde of nu buddinge. 
 
 " Summer is yeomen in, 
 " Loude finge Cucku ! 
 
 " Groweth feede, 
 
 " Bloweth meade, 
 " And fpringeth the woode nu." 
 
[12] 
 
 Autumne is yeomen in, 
 Ceres filleth home : 
 
 Reaper fwinketh. 
 
 Farmer drinketh ; 
 Creaketh waine with nu corne. 
 
 Winter is yeomen in. 
 
 With ftormie fadde eheere : 
 In the paddoeke, 
 Whiftle ruddoek, 
 Brighte fparke in the dedde yeere. 
 
 1829. 
 
 Lines 
 
 In my Marfs Diary. 
 
 MAY eheerful thoughts that wait on health ; 
 May felf-refped:, — the bank of wealth 
 That feareth not detradtion's ftealth. 
 
 Be thine, my Mary ! 
 
 May this day's reeord be the fpring 
 Of all the year's delight, and bring 
 N© mildew with its bloflbming. 
 
 My wife ! my Mary ! 
 
And when the fummer-days are gone 
 Of life, may our dear union 
 Shine like a frofty fetting fun. 
 
 My own dear Mary ! 
 
 Jan. I, 1831. 
 
 The Sea-Bird. 
 
 Set to Mufic by Thomas Attwood. 
 
 UP and down o'er the toiling fea ; 
 Up and down with the driving gale ; 
 'Mid blinding fnow, and flafhing hail, 
 The Sea-bird flaps on patiently. 
 
 No ftorm can quell his fteadfaft heart ; 
 No ill can change — no fortune part 
 Him from his cheerful conftancy. 
 But to all forrow 
 He bids good morrow ; 
 And when the ftorm urges. 
 He bounds o'er the furges. 
 And clings to his home in the rock by the fea. 
 
 Mary, my own, like that fea-bird am I ; 
 
 Thou art my home, — thou my rock by the fea. 
 When adverfe fortune's tide is running high. 
 
 And all around our heav'n looks frowningly. 
 
I'll bid good morrow 
 To every forrow ; 
 And when the ftorm urges, 
 I'll bound o'er the furges, 
 And fly to thy heart, — my rock by the fea. 
 
 1832. 
 
 The Firft of the Fairies. 
 
 WHAT ho ! ye minims of earth ! 
 Enwomb'd in your cells. 
 The buttercup bells ; 
 Come forth at my call ; 
 Come forth, one and all : 
 'Tis Oberon calls you to birth. 
 
 Whence we came, and what we were. 
 Let no one afk, let no one care. 
 Since here we are, — fince here we are ! 
 You Brifk, and Frifk, 
 With Whip and Nip ; 
 Come forth in your ranks. 
 Come forth with your pranks. 
 And crown we our birth-night with mirth ! 
 Come one, come two, 
 " With mop and mowe," 
 
[15] 
 
 Come twenty in order meet ; 
 And as you pafs 
 O'er the dewy grafs. 
 In lightning glance 
 Of your whirling dance. 
 Make rainbows with your twinkling feet. 
 You, Muftard-feed, go tweak 
 With roguifh freak 
 The nofe of cramming prieft ; 
 While Cobweb, there, and Nip, 
 
 Will pinch and grip 
 The fnoring flattern in her neft. 
 And when the owl has wing'd his flight ,- 
 And the pearly drops of night 
 Hang thickefl: on the lime-tree flower ; 
 You, Bean and Pea-bloflbm, go clamber 
 To the fleeping maiden's chamber. 
 And prank anew her window bower. 
 
 Now, hey for a roundel, — fo, fo ! 
 And now through the roundel we go ; 
 
 My fairies keep time 
 
 To the cricket's chime. 
 And the laugh of our chorus, " Ho, ho ! " 
 
 «833- 
 
[i6 1 
 
 The Fairy's Funeral. 
 
 T)ENEATH the frowning trefles of a hoary oak, 
 
 -^-^ Whofe fliadow in the moonlight dappled o'er 
 
 The velvet-tiffued lawn, I faw a company 
 
 Of Elves, clad all in fparkling white, as leaves 
 
 Of fpear-grafs in the wintry morning rime. In hand 
 
 Each bore a daify-bloflbm, tipp'd with flame. 
 
 Drawn from the beacon Glow-worm. And fo, hand in 
 
 hand 
 Together join'd ; with heads, like fnow-drops, bow'd. 
 And footing flow, they circled a dead fifl:er's form. 
 Singing this fairy dirge : 
 
 Weep, Fairies, weep ! our reign is o'er ; 
 For Death, alas ! has come among us ; 
 Roundel dance we now no more. 
 For his venom'd barb hath fl;ung us. 
 Fairies no more — we fad-ey'd mortals are. 
 Wedded to forrow, and made grave with care. 
 
 (Chorus.) '' Fairies no more," etc. 
 
 Cetera in nubibus. 
 
G 
 
 [17 J 
 The Laft of the Fairies. 
 
 ONE are all the merry band ! Gone 
 Is my Lord — my Oberon ! 
 Gone is TItania ! Moonlight fong 
 And roundel now no more 
 Shall patter on the grafly floor. 
 And Robin too ! the wild-bee of our throng. 
 Has wound his laft recheat — 
 Oh fate unmeet ! 
 The roofted cock, with anfw'ring crow. 
 No longer ftarts to his " Ho ! ho ! ho !" 
 For low he lies in death. 
 With violet, and mulk-rofe breath 
 Woven into his winding-fheet. 
 And now I wander through the night. 
 An old, and folitary fprite ! 
 
 No laughing fifter meets me ; 
 No friendly chirping greets me ; — 
 But the glow-worm fhuns me. 
 And the moufe out-runs me ; 
 And every hare-bell 
 Rings my knell : — 
 For I am old, 
 And my heart is cold. 
 Oh mifery ! 
 
 Alone to die ! „ 
 
 1832. 
 
[18] 
 
 To a beautiful little Dell, with a Fountain ; 
 near Maidenhead, Berkfhire. 
 
 A Rhapfody. 
 
 OH, Fairy cirque ! within thy myftic round 
 Are found 
 Daintier delights than Angels tafte. 
 Not all the fweets that graced 
 The hallow'd Tempe's vale. 
 Its lapfing ftream, and wanton gale 
 Fainting on beds of Afphodel ; 
 Or fwelling hills, with golden fruitage crown'd ; 
 
 Could ever lure me from thy facred haunts ; 
 
 Where pants 
 My throbbing heart with extacy ; 
 As o'er that level lea, 
 I climb yon gentle mount, — 
 MofT-grown, — that o'er-hangs the fount 
 Of all my joy : — Oh, let me count 
 Minutes for hours ; the while my fpirit flaunts 
 
[^9] 
 
 In giddy rapture o'er the tender fcene. 
 
 Between 
 
 Thofe fmoothly parting banks that ftiade 
 
 The auburn-bower'd glade. 
 
 Sunny and warm, I lie 
 
 Clofe- bedded, like the bee, and pry 
 
 O'er all my odorous luxury. 
 Such are the gifts that make us clofely lean 
 
 On life ; and fuch thy charms, my Fairy dell, 
 
 To quell 
 All forrow ; — and yet, fuch the fpell 
 In thy myfterious well ; 
 That I could ne'er refrain 
 To enter there ; although my gain 
 Be certain death : — but then, the pain 
 How fweet ! how fweet, no tongue can ever tell — 
 
 Oh Fairy Dell ! 
 1832. 
 
 Whip- poor- Will. 
 
 ' I AHE moonlight fleepeth on the fea ; 
 
 -*- The night-wind flumb'reth on the hill ; 
 The cattle in the mifty lea 
 Are all repofing tranquilly. 
 
 All are at peace — all take their fill 
 Of reft, — fave the lorn heart of Whip-poor- Will. 
 
[20] 
 
 On him the honey-dew of fleep 
 
 Its gentle balm doth ne'er diftil ; 
 But he is doom'd to mourn and weep 
 From night to night the forrows deep 
 Of thofe, whofe groans and anguifh fill 
 The Mammon-tyrant's purfe. — Poor Whip-poor-Will ! 
 
 And he in morning-life was parted 
 
 From all he lov'd, to go and till 
 The ftranger's foil : — and while he fmarted 
 With grief and rage, died broken-hearted. 
 
 And now he fings by moonlight rill, 
 " Sleep, fleep, worn ghoft of Whip-poor-Will ! " 
 
 1832. 
 
 " ' Whip-poor-Will,' and ' Willy-come-go,' are the fliades of thofe 
 " poor African and Indian flaves, who died worn out and broken- 
 " hearted. They wail and cry, ' Whip-poor-Will,' ' Willy-come-go,' 
 " all night long : and often, when the moon Ihines, you fee them fitting 
 " on the green turf near the houfes of thofe whofe anceftors tore them 
 " from the bofom of their helplefs families ; which all probably 
 " periflied through grief and want, after their fupport was gone." 
 
 Waterton's Wanderings. 
 
[21] 
 
 Woman's Smile. 
 
 Set to Mufic by Charles Des Anges. 
 
 THROUGH every weary ftage in life, — 
 Through every care — through every ftrife^ 
 Kind Heaven relief may fend ; 
 But nought can beguile 
 The heart of its toil. 
 Like the fmile of a Woman-friend. 
 
 'Tis night-rain to the parched tree ; 
 'Tis honey-dew to th' eager bee ; 
 
 'Tis zephyr to the opening rofe : 
 'Tis Heaven's own light 
 To him whofe night 
 Has fadden'd amid the Polar fnows. 
 
 'Tis white cliffs of their native land^ 
 At morning feen by failor band 
 
 Who long have toil'd upon the main ; 
 Or bubbling fpring 
 To him wand'ring 
 O'er Zara's wild and fcorching plain. 
 
[22] 
 
 'Tis freedom to the dungeon-bound ; 
 'Tis coolnefs to the throbbing wound ; 
 Or health to plague-tainted air. 
 'Tis morning breaking ; 
 An infant waking j — 
 'Tis every thing that's good and fair. 
 
 1833- 
 
 To my own Mary. 
 
 I FEEL my fpirit humbled when you call 
 My love of home a virtue : — 'tis the part 
 Yourfelf have play'd has fix'd me : for the heart 
 Will anchor where its treafure is • and fmall 
 As is the love I bear you, — 'tis my all, — 
 The widow's mite compar'd with your defert. 
 You, and our quiet room then, are the mart 
 Of all my thoughts ; — 'tis there they rife and fall. 
 
 The parent bird, that in its wanderings 
 
 O'er hill and dale, through copfe and leafy fpray ; 
 
 Sees naught to lure his conftant heart away 
 
 From her who gravely fits with furled wings. 
 
 Watching their mutual charge. — Howe'er he roam. 
 
 His eye ftill fixes on his mofly home. 
 
 1832. 
 
[23] 
 
 
 To Lady Harriet * 
 
 With a White Mofs-Rofe, 
 On her birth-day. 
 
 (Written at the defire of a friend.) 
 
 BE pleafed^ dear Lady Harriet, to receive 
 My fimple gift upon your natal day. 
 Simple indeed, in worldly eftimate ; 
 And yet (if judg'd aright) attended by 
 A train of high and gracious thoughts ferene. 
 
 It teaches us, that all created things. 
 However fair, expand in lovelinefs. 
 When cherifhed by the cultivator's art ; — 
 That mental beauty, like the wood-fide briar. 
 If wifely fofter'd, blooms the perfedt flower. 
 
 Its dazzling whitenefs alfo teaches us. 
 In facred emblem, of virgin purity. 
 And of that luftrous company divine. 
 Who ftand before the Throne^ and fing of peace 
 And love vouchfaf'd to man for evermore. 
 
 And when, at laft, its ripen'd fplendour fades, 
 The finer fpirit ftill lives on, and tells 
 In accents audible, that Virtue alone 
 Can triumph over Death : — that beauty dies ; 
 But th' odour of Truth furvives decay. 
 
[^4] 
 
 In after years, dear Lady, may you fliine 
 A fpotlefs rofe in Albion's noble wreath : — 
 Virtuous in deeds, brilliant in ornament 
 Of Body and Mind : — and when the hand of time 
 Shall bear thee hence, to bloom in Paradife^ 
 May th' odour of thy name be fweet in death. 
 As wither'd bloflbms of the White Mofs-Rofe. 
 
 To Lady Harriet ****.. 
 
 With a copy of " Tales from Chaucer." 
 
 GRISELDA'S meeknefs ; and that gentle ftrength 
 Of heart, which whifper'd hope to mild 
 
 Cuftance, with but her infant child 
 To gaze on^ 'mid the booming fea-wave's length : 
 
 The fteadfaftnefs of faith which fweetly rung 
 Through th' infant voice, that in the ftreet 
 Of Jewry, and in Mary's honor did repeat 
 
 " O alma Redemptoris !" loudly fung : — 
 All thefe be thine, fair lady ; but with nought 
 
 Of their attendant cares : — Saluzzo's trial ; 
 
 Alla's abfence ; or ftealthy Jew's efpial. 
 That Chriftian innocence fo fiercely fought ; 
 
 Afpirings meek^ faithful and ftrong, meet no denial ; 
 But gain thee. Heaven, at laft, — the vidlory well bought, 
 
 M. C. C. 
 
[25] 
 
 On vifiting a little Dell near Margate, 
 
 Called " Najh." 
 
 OH what a power hath Gentlenefs ! — I who 
 Unmov'd could look upon the furging fea. 
 And with affeded valour bear my front 
 To the loud winds when they call : — or at 
 The bafe of fome cloud-piercing hill, whofe 
 Sullen head uprear'd in lonelinefs. 
 Seems to forbid th' accefs of ftruggling foot ; 
 Should feel my fpirit by oppofition rouf 'd. 
 And nathlefs would ftand on his peaked top. — 
 Yet when I come into this little world 
 Of leaves and lowly flowers, where filence reigns 
 (Like the fam'd Halcyon feas, without a ripple) 
 In everlafting reft ; my fpirit fubdued. 
 Acknowledges that " Gentlenefs is Power." 
 
 It is fo calm and beautiful a place. 
 You would fuppofe it could have never known 
 The fearful ruih of " wind and dire hail^ " or 
 
[26 J 
 
 That violence of any kind, untam'd 
 Could harbour there : — The blefled influence 
 Of fome fweet angel hovers o'er the fpot 
 To keep it from all harm, — and it is fafe. 
 So, th' ark of God refted in peace beneath 
 The fpreading wings of mighty Cherubim. 
 
 There may you fee trees of the loveliefl growth ; 
 Some frefh and green, as if they " never would 
 Grow old." The graceful Elm is there with fhaft 
 Corinthian, and leafy Capital. 
 Fantaflic Hawthorn, with its fnaky trunk 
 Writhing from out the ground. The Doric Oak. 
 Afh with fmooth rind, and amber-colour'd leaves. 
 Shedding a golden light. You might fuppofe 
 The bright-hair'd huntrefs, Dian, had been there, 
 And all her glory not yet pafT'd away. 
 
 And, all around this green retreat, the banks 
 Rife higher than your head, topp'd by the trees : 
 And down their fides the lazy Bramble trails 
 Its flendernefs ; and here and there, through clumps 
 Of green, you catch the auburn-colour'd mould — 
 Rich and warm : and fometimes fpots of chalk. 
 On which the fprawling Ivy loves to Ihow 
 Its dark and glofTy leaf. — But when the blithe 
 
[^7] 
 
 And fhining May, garlanded with flowers. 
 Is miflrefs of the year ; then you muft come 
 And fee her fcatter from her ample lap 
 The yellow Cowflip, and the pale Primrofe ; 
 The fcented Violet that lurks unfeen. 
 And like a noble heart, prefents her ftore 
 With earneft diffidence. Then you will fee 
 The perking Daify ; and, like burnifh'd gold. 
 The yellow Crowfoot — Buttercups — Blue-bells, — 
 But why need I go on ? — Suffice to fay 
 You fcarce can plant your foot, and not bow down 
 Some pretty flower. 
 
 Surrounded thus with leaves, 
 I, and the lovely partner of my walk. 
 Stood in mute wonderment at all we faw : — 
 While the unfearful fl:illnefs all about. 
 That yielded only to that " fmall fl:ill voice" 
 Among the leaves, which " whifper'd Peace." — 
 Above our heads, the calm and bright blue fky ; 
 Beneath our feet, the freih and pleafant green ; 
 And everywhere the placid-fmiling face 
 Of Nature in her joy, fent to our hearts 
 The unrefifl:ing truth, that " Gentlenefs 
 Is Power." 
 
[28] 
 
 But / fliould not have told your charms, 
 Your perfedl charms, delightful fpot ! — that tafk 
 I would have left in other hands ; myfelf 
 Contented to have ponder'd o'er each fcene 
 In lilent homage. Little juftice have 
 I render'd you, dear Nook ! — and yet, be fure 
 I put forth all my might, fince I obey'd — 
 What could I lefs ? — the mild command 
 Of woman's fweet requeft, and fweeter looks : — 
 And thus again I prove that " Gentlenefs is Power." 
 
 i8iS. 
 
 The Burial of a Soldier. 
 
 SAD was the day, and mournful clouds feftoon'd 
 Th' horizon. O'er thy placid brow. 
 Beautiful Hampftead, many a dufky wreath 
 
 Came gathering ; and that face which wont 
 To beam out as the morning bride, now, like 
 
 A lovely widow through her weeds, 
 Look'd anxioufly ferene. The noify wind 
 
 From the South-weft^ fteep'd in tears^ 
 Came fobbing in my face ; and on its wings 
 
 Bearing the low and furly hum 
 
[29] 
 
 Of the great town. In melancholy plight 
 
 The pale fun had funk down to reft ; 
 And flow-pac'd, lazy cows went dreaming home. 
 
 Murmuring on their way a deep 
 Organic note, refponfive to the call 
 
 The hind repeats, to " Come along." 
 
 How are we vidtims made of circumftance ! 
 
 Yon frowning fky, and fobbing wind. 
 Yon feebly-gleaming fun, whofe rays feem'd blanch'd 
 
 With tears ; together with the low 
 Myfterious coil from bufy multitude ; — 
 
 All fo confpir'd to fill my mind 
 With images of melancholy caft. 
 
 That e'en fweet Nature's face methought 
 No longer lovely feem'd, — but all was gloom. 
 
 So, on the brow of that fair hill 
 Which fronts thy fouthern face, fweet town, I flood. 
 
 And thought of all the mighty tide 
 Of Being then before me, urging on 
 
 Its founding waters towards that dark 
 And filent fea, that intelleftual plumb 
 
 Hath never founded. And I thought, 
 That, not a thoufand generations hence. 
 
 When haply, all that vaft abode, — 
 
[3o] 
 
 Thofe myriad piles of monumental art. 
 
 The domes, the fpires^ the palaces. 
 The grinding wheels of thofe long-throated engines. 
 
 That eifortlefs pour out their fmoke. 
 And all the works of grandeur, fhow, and ufe, — 
 
 Shall, like a fummer-morning vapour, 
 Pafs away, and know their place no more. 
 
 The dizzying roar of all thy ftreets. 
 Gigantic town ! which far off in the champain 
 
 Like " the voice of many waters" founds. 
 Shall ceafe ; — and in the place of this, a ftillnefs 
 
 As of that dead, and pall-black night 
 Egyptian, when the defolating fpirit 
 
 Set forward on his ftern beheft. 
 A ftillnefs — as if noife were yet unborn : 
 
 A ftillnefs — that the carrion crow. 
 When flying over, ftiall be heard a mile. 
 
 Difplac'd by mouldering quays and bridges. 
 Yon lapfing ftream ftiall leave its ancient bed. 
 
 And lofe itfelf in one wide fwamp. 
 There ftiall the daunted wild-duck live unfcar'd. 
 
 And build amid the juicy flags 
 That nod and jerk to every paffing wind. 
 
 The lonely defart-wanderer 
 
[31] 
 
 Shall come from th' utmoft foil of that new world. 
 
 Where Patagonia wedges down 
 Into the great South fea : — a land now rude 
 
 In arts, and wild, — then cultivated : — 
 And as he Hands upon the verge of that 
 
 Great fwamp, amaz'd to fee the end 
 Of human pride, by th' humbling hand of time, 
 
 Like molten lead his voice fhall fall^ 
 Echolefs, as he pronounces — " London !" 
 
 Nor marvel, reader, at my words, — 
 Since Babylon the Great hath fall'n, and Tyre 
 
 Become a naked rock : and Carthage 
 Is deftroy'd ; and hundred-gated Thebes 
 
 An awful, giant wreck. — Rome too. 
 Some time miftrefs of the world, now fits 
 
 Upon her crumbled throne — forlorn — 
 In faded grandeur, and magnificent 
 
 Decay. — Where is the Eaftern might 
 Of Tamerlane,— felf-ftyl'd Kouli Kahn ? 
 
 Or of the lion-tartar, Zenghis, 
 Who glar'd in Ifpahan ; and like a wild 
 
 Tornado rav'd^ and fliook the patient 
 Earth ? — Shall thefe all fade and fink with years. 
 
 And thou alone in verdant youth 
 
[32l 
 
 Live on ? Shall Nature change her courfe for thee 
 
 Alone ? Shall mutability 
 Obfequious avert her rolling wheel 
 
 And pafs thee by ? 
 
 Such were my thoughts. 
 When ftraight I heard a far-off trumpet fpeak : — 
 
 And fearching down the vale to find 
 The quarter whence th' obedient wind had borne 
 
 The warlike note, I mark'd a band 
 Of foldiers bearing to his filent home 
 
 A dead companion. * * * * 
 
 (To be finiftied — " To-morrow, — and to-morrow, — and to-morrow !") 
 
 1816. 
 
 Hymn to God. 
 
 TN thy large temple — the blue depth of fpace ; 
 -*■ And on the altar of thy quiet fields 
 
 (Fit flirine to hold the beauty of thy love). 
 Great Spirit ! with earneft cheerfulnefs I place 
 This off'ring, which a grateful heart now yields. 
 
 For all thofe high and gracious thoughts that rove 
 
[33] 
 
 O'er all thy works ; — for all the rare delights 
 Of eye and ear ; — harmonious forms and ftrains 
 Of deepeft breath ; — for each enfuing Spring, 
 With all its tender leaves, and bloflbming, 
 And dainty fmells that fleam from dropping rains ; — 
 For funny days, and filent fhining nights ; — 
 For youth, and mirth^ and health, — though dafli'd with 
 fmarts 
 (As lufcious creams are ting'd with bitternefs) ; — 
 For Hope, — fweet Hope ! — unconfcious of alloy ; — 
 For peaceful thoughts, kind faces, loving hearts. 
 That fuck out all the poifon from diftrefs : — 
 For all thefe gifts I offer Gratitude, and Joy ! 
 
 " Hie Jacet. 
 
 LET not a bell be toll'd, or tear be fhed 
 When I am dead : — 
 Let no night-dog, with dreary howl. 
 Or ghaftly fhriek of boding owl 
 Make harfh a change fo calm, fo hallowed : — 
 
 Lay not my bed 
 
[34] 
 
 'Mid yews, and never-blooming cyprefles ; 
 
 But under trees 
 Of fimple flow'r and odorous breath, — 
 The lime and dog-rofe ; and beneath 
 Let primrofe cups give up their honied lees 
 
 To fucking bees ; 
 Who all the fhining day, while labouring, 
 
 Shall drink and fing 
 A requiem o'er my peaceful grave. 
 For I would cheerful quiet have ; 
 Or, no noife ruder than the linnet's wing ; 
 
 Or brook gurgling. 
 In harmony I've liv'd ; — fo let me die. 
 That while, 'mid gentler founds this ihell doth lie. 
 The Spirit aloft may float in fpheral harmony. 
 
 J, ALFRED NOVELLO, TYPOGRAPHICAL MUSIC AND GENERAL PRINTER, 
 DEAN STREEJ , SOHO, LONDON. 
 
PR 4453.06902""""''''*''-"'"^ 
 Carmina minima. 
 
 3 1924 013 463 983