; ( 480 } 
[July 
ORIGINAL POD he 
VERSES ADDRESSED TO SIR WILLIAM 
JONES, IN THE YEAR 1775+ 
FRIEND of my heart, companion of niy 
youth, 
Ais fam’d for learning. as rever’d for truth ; 
In whom united we alike admire 
The fages wifdom, and the poets fire 5 
A gen’rous temper, and a noble mind, 
Axsdour undamp’d and genius unconfin’d 5 
Well-fkill’d to tread the feientific maze, 
And trace dark nature thro” her winding 
ways 3 
Skilful alike to raife the lofty fong, 
Or playful fport the flow’ry reeds among 3 
The fmiling mufe has taught thee all her 
art 450 
To catch the fancy, and to feize the heart. 
To form thy wreath, from evry clime fhe 
brings [{prings. 
Each choiceft product whence it native 
See her obfequious bring, at thy command, 
Sweet Khoten’s* muik, and gems of Sa- 
marcand, 
Each fragrant fhrub from fam’d Bocara’s grove, 
Sacred alike to poetry and love. 
This known toall; but words can ill impart 
The cheering features of thy friendly heart. 
+ Oh may our friendthip, form’d in this 
dark cell, [dwell f,” 
Where <¢¢ deathful fpirits and magicians 
To time fuperior, firmly rooted, brave 
The gloomy ica and dragon-teeming wave ; 
6¢ Purg’d in that wave, and rendered ftill 
more bright, 
6¢ Fox ever blaze amid furrounding light ! 
R. W. LyTTon. 
Ee eee 
SONNET TO THE RIVER ULGE. 
HERE on thy verdant banks, meand’ring 
Ulge, 
Reclin’d [I fit, and cull the vernal flowers, 
Thus ling’ring out the folitary hours 5- 
Or penfive mufings on the paft indulge. 
Ah, dear delights of youth, for ever fied! 
Ah, were I here once more a fportive 
child ! [ wild, 
Again thy pebbled firaad, and wood-walks 
And winding dells with carelefs ftep I'd tread. 
The devious wand’rings of maturer years 
Would then no painful retrofpe prefent; 
Nor keen regret for time unwifely {pent 
Would fill my boding breaft with future fears; 
But onward ftill the hours would fmoothly 
glide, 
As thy tranflucent 
ecean’s tide. 
May 1799- ALBOIN. 
Ee I TS ae 
* See Sir William’s Eaftern poems. 
- 4+ In thefe laft lines there is an application 
of feveral parts of lines in Sir William’s poem 
of the Seven Fountains, where in a beautiful 
allegory he deicribes death asa river teeming 
with dragons and other monfters, and the 
way to it as a gloomy fea. 
t Is word for word almoft a whole line of 
ftream to meet the 
OWEN PARFET #. 
"THERE lived, in Shepton Mallet late, 
Of unrecorded fame, 
A taylor, born to lucklefs fate, 
And Parfet was his name. 
His race from Cambrian mountains wild, 
Firft iffued, but few know when ;—= 
His parents, therefore, gave their child 
The chriftian name of Owen. 
He plied his trade both late and foon, 
By honefty to live; 
And happy was from morn to noon, 
From noon to fetting eve. 
Good credit long he well fuftain’d, 
By profits fmall and few ; ) 
Nor would, tho’ all the world he gain’d, 
A deed difhoneft do. 
Six days he labor'd in the week, 
With unremitting care ; 
The feventh, he would duly feek 
The public place of prayer. 
When Owen at his calling fate, 
Upon his outfpread carpet, 
A bufy fifter’s harmlefs chat, 
Well pleas’d her brother Parfet. 
No wife had he, or ever ftrove 
Fair maiden’s heart to gain: 
And fhe,—no favorite of love—- 
Ne’er captivated fwain. 
Was Owen pleafed ?—his fifter too, 
Well pleafed the houfe would range ¢ 
Was Owen dull ?—again fhe knew 
A fympathetic change. 
‘But happinefs is feldom found 
To be of lafting date ; 
Nor lives there one on mortal ground . 
Secure from adverfe fate. ' 
The wind blew keen one winter night, 
And faft came down the rain; 
Then Owen in unguarded plight, 
Was drench’d upon the plain. 
Now, pains rheumatic writh’d him fore, 
And piteous ’twas to fee 
Poor Owen now, unable more 
» To live by induftry. 
To him relief his fifter dealt, 
At early hour and late ; 
And every with, that Owen felt, 
Strove to anticipate. 

his. Ihave applied it fomewhat differently 
from, its application in that beautiful poem ; 
but hope that the reflecting reader will not 
think it quite mifplaced, in defcribing a 
world like ours, where deathful or deftruc- 
rive fpirits and deceivers abound, 
* The circumftance on which this ballad is 
founded, actually took place at Shepton Mal- 
let, in Somerfetthire, between twenty and 
thirty years ago. Many perfons who are now 
living, atteft the faét; nor has any plaufible 
account of the unfortunate man’s difappears 
ance ever been given, 
ue Let 

