13]1.] 
[ 383°} 
ORIGINAL POETRY, 
—_— 
SONNET, 
RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED TO CAPEL 
LOFFT, ESQ. d 
Al! faintly Fancy pictures to my view 
Th’ accustom’d grove where Lofft is 
wont to spend 
The pensive hour, accomplishing some 
end 
‘That may the lowly peasant’s joys renew ; 
And much I wish to pay the tribute due 
To him, whose precepts gen’rous deeds 
commend 5. 
The Muse’s patron, and the Poet’s friend, 
The poor man’s guardian from Oppression’s 
crew. 
Accept then, Lofft! the tributary lay, 
From one untutor’d in scholastic lore ; 
Whose humble aim, te gain the right path- 
ways 
That leads to Learning’s truly valu’d store ; 
May hope in thee to find the genial ray 
Of approbation, gleam till life is o’er. 
Wn. TAYLOR. 
a 
WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 
FROM THE NEW EDITION oF Miss Mit- 
FORD'S POEMS, NOW IN THE PRESS, 
WHERE all that strikes th’ admiring eye, 
Breathes beauty and sublimity ; 
Where the cool air and tranquil light, 
The world-worn heart to peace invite 5 
Whence comes this sadness, pure and holy, 
This calm resistless melancholy, 
This hallow’d far, this awe-struck feeling ? 
Comes it from yonder organ pealing? ‘ 
From low chaunt stealing up the aisle? 
From closed gate echoing through the pile ? 
From storied windows glancing high? 
Frem bannerets of chivalry ? ( 
Or from yon holy chapel seen 
Dimly athwart the Gothic screen ? 
No, "tis the stranger’s solemn tready 
Resounding o’er the mighty dead! 
He came to see thy wond’rous state, 
The wise, the beautiful, the great, 
Thy glories, empress of the wave, 
He came to see,—and found 2 grave, 
But such a grave as never yet 
To statesman paid a people’s debt ; 
n battle strife the hero’s sigh 
8 breathed for thee of victory ; 
And bards immortal find in thee 
A second immortality. 
“He who first raised from Gathic gloom 
Our tongue, here Chaucer findsa tomb: 
Here gentle Spenser, foulest stain 
OF his own Gloriana’s reign ! 
And he who mocked at art’s controul, 
The mighty master of the soul; t 
Shakespeare, our Shakespeare !—-by his side, 
he man who poured his mighty ide ; 
Monrurr Mag. No, 214, 
a ) 
RR a eS 
The brightest union genius wrought, 
Was «Garrick’s voice and Shakespeare's 
thought. 
Here Milton’s heaven-strung lyre reposes { 
Here Dryden’s meteor briliiance closes! 
Here Mewton lies !—-and with him lie 
The thyusand glories of our sky ; 
Stars, numerous as the host of heaven, 
And radiant as the flashing levin! 
Lo, Chatham! the immortal name, 
Graven in the patriot’s heart of fame! 
Here, his long course of honours run, 
The mighty father’s mighty son: 
And hereAhy wipe that falling tear] 
Last,-best, and greatest, Fox lies here, 
Here sleep they all: on the wide earth 
There dwell not men of mortal birth, 
Would dare contest fame’s glorious racey 
With those whio fill this little space, 
O, could some wizard spell revive 
The buried dead, and bid them live, 
It were a sight to charm dull age, 
The infant’s roving eye engage, 
The wounded heal, the deaf man cure, 
The widow from her tears allure, 
And moping ideots f€1l the story, 
Of England’s bliss and England’s glory, 
And they do live!—Our Shakespeare’g 
strains 
Die not whilst English tongue remains: 
Whilst light and colours rise and fly, 
Lives Newton’s deathless memory : 
Whilst Freedom warms one English breast, 
There Fox’s honored name shal! rest. 
Yes, they do live !—they live t” inspire 
Fame’s daring sons with hallowed fire 5 
Like sparks from heaven they make the 
blaze, 
The living light of genius’ rays; 
Bid England’s glories flash across the gloom, 
And catch her heroes’ spirit from their tomb, 
ena QUT 
SUN-SET. 
By Miss Mitrorp. 
FROM THE SAME. 
MPHE clouds disperse,—just glancing bright, 
* The sun sends forth his shrouded light ; 
*Tis pleasant on th’ horizon’s verge, 
To see the clouded beams immerge, 
Which strove all day *twixt frown and smiley 
Like the coy beauty’s simple wile, 
Who seeks to fix her lover’s eye, 
By thy’ strong spell, variety! 
It clears !==_we’ll rest upon the bridge, 
And mark yon purple western ridge, 
“Where the dividing clouds unfold 
Long narrow streaks of burnished gold; 
Now seen amid the clustering trees, 
. Like flaming sparks borne on the bi¢eze; 
Wow tipping every verdant elm 
With radiant light, like warrior’s helm 5 
46 Now 
