NOON .

Fervid on the glittering flood,
Now the noon-tide radiance glows:
Drooping o'er its infant bud,
Not a dew drop's left the rose.

By the brook the shepherd dines;
From the fierce meridian heat
Shelter'd, by the branching pines,
Pendent o'er his grassy seat.

Now the flock forsakes the glade,
Where, uncheck'd, the sun-beams fall;
Sure to find a pleasing shade

MORNING .

I N the barn the tenant cock,
Close to partlet perch'd on high,
Briskly crows, (the shepherd's clock!)
Jocund that the morning's nigh.

Swiftly from the mountain's brow,
Shadows, nurs'd by night, retire:
And the peeping sun-beam, now
Paints with gold the village-spire.

Philomel forsakes the thorn,
Plamtive where she prates at night;
And the Lark, to meet the morn,

I.

A MIGHTY current, unconfin'd and free,
Ran wheeling round beneath the mountain's shade,
Battering its wave-worn base; but you might see
On the near margin many a watery glade,
Becalm'd beneath some little island's lee
All tranquil, and transparent, close embay'd;
Reflecting in the deep serene and even
Each flower and herb, and every cloud of Heaven;

II.

The painted kingfisher, the branch above her,

I.

I' VE a proposal here from Mr. Murray,
" He offers handsomely — the money down;
" My dear, you might recover from your flurry
" In a nice airy lodging out of town,
" At Croydon, Epsom, anywhere in Surrey;
" If every stanza brings us in a crown,
" I think that I might venture to bespeak
" A bed-room and front-parlour for next week.

II.

" Tell me, my dear Thalia, what you think;
" Your nerves have undergone a sudden shock;

I.

I' VE finish'd now three hundred lines and more,
And therefore I begin Canto the Second,
Just like those wandering ancient Bards of Yore;
They never laid a plan, nor ever reckon'd
What turning they should take the day before;
They follow'd where the lovely Muses beckon'd:
The Muses led them up to Mount Parnassus,
And that's the reason that they all surpass us.

II.

The Muses served those Heathens well enough —

I.

Beginning (as my Bookseller desires)
Like an old Minstrel with his gown and beard,
" Fair Ladies, gallant Knights, and gentle Squires,
" Now the last service from the Board is clear'd,
" And if this noble Company requires,
" And if amidst your mirth I may be heard,
" Of sundry strange adventures I could tell,
" That oft were told before, but never told so well. "

II.

T HE G REAT K ING A RTHUR made a sumptuous Feast,

I.

I VE often wish'd that I could write a book,
Such as all English people might peruse;
I never should regret the pains it took,
That's just the sort of fame that I should choose:
To sail about the world like Captain Cook,
I'd sling a cot up for my favourite Muse,
And we'd take verses out to Demerara,
To New South Wales, and up to Niagara.

II.

Poets consume exciseable commodities,
They raise the nation's spirit when victorious,

III. 1.

They shrink, they vanish into air —
Now Slander taints with pestilence the gale;
And mingling cries assail,
The wail of Woe, and scream of mad Despair.
Lo, wizard Envy from his serpent-eye
Darts quick destruction in each baleful glance;
Pride smiling stern, and yellow Jealousy,
Frowning Disdain, and haggard Hate advance:
Behold, amid the dire array,
Pale, wither'd Care his giant-stature rears,
And lo, his iron hand prepares
To grasp its feeble prey.

III. 2.

II. 1.

When first on Childhood's eager gaze
Life's varied landscape stretch'd immense around
Starts out of night profound,
Thy voice incites to tempt the wildering maze.
Fond he surveys thy mild maternal face,
His bashful eye still kindling as he views,
And, while thy lenient arm supports his pace,
With beating heart the upland path pursues;
The path, that leads, where, high uphung,
Seen far remote, Youth's gorgeous trophies, gay
In Fancy's vivid rainbow-ray,
Allure the eager throng.

II. 2.

I. 1.

O thou that glad'st the pensive breast;
More than Aurora's smile the pilgrim lorn
Left all night long to mourn
Amidst the horrors of the dreary waste;
Where savage howls, as intermits the storm,
Wide o'er the wilderness resound from far,
And cross the gloom darts many a grisly form,
And fire-eyed visages horrific stare;
Hail, Goddess, friend of human race!
Hail! for thou oft thy suppliant's vow hast heard,
And oft with smiles indulgent chear'd
His doubting soul to peace.

I. 2.

Smit by thy rapture-beaming eye