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“Let those who are in favor with their stars,
of public honor and proud titles boast,
Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars,
Unlook'd for joy in that I honor most.
Great princes' favorites their fair leaves spread,
But as the marigold in the sun's eye ;
And in themselves their pride lies buried,
For at a frown they in their glory die.
The painful warrior famoused for fight,
After a thousand victories once foild,
Is from the book of honor razed quite,
And all the rest forgot for which he toild:
Then happy I, that love and am belov'd,
Where I may not remove, nor be remord."
* When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my out-cast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing the like to one more rich in hope,
Featur'd like him, like him with friends possessid,
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least :
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee,-and then my state
(Lake to the lark al break of day arising
From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven's gate :
For thy sweet lovo remember'd, such wealth brings,
That then I scorn to change my state with kinga."
"My love is strengthen'd, though more weak in seming. I love not less, though less the show appear : That love is merchandis'd whose nich esteeming The owner's tongue doth pubiush everywhere, Our love was new, and then but in the spring, When I was wont to grert it with my lays : As Philomel in summer's front death sing. And stupa kis pipe in growth of riper daya :
Not that the summer is less pleasant now
Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night,
But that wild music burdens every bough,
And sweets grown common lose their dear delight.
Therefore, like her, I sometimes hold my tongue,
Because I would not dull you with my song."
“ That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day,
As after sun-set fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire,
Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by.
This thou perceiv’st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long." In all these, as well as in many others, there is a mild tone of sentiment, deep, mellow, and sustained, very different from the crudeness of his earlier poems.
FROM THE THIRD LONDON EDITION,
EDITED BY HIS SON.
ult is a very good office one man does another, when he tells him the manner of his being pleased."-STEELE.
HENRY CAREY BAIRD.
Printel ty T. L & P. O Collins