Written Under The Impression Tha… Adieu, thou Hill! where early joy Spread roses o’er my brow; Where Science seeks each loiterin… With knowledge to endow.

In thee I fondly hoped to clasp A friend whom death alone could se… Till envy, with malignant grasp, Detach’d thee from my breast for e… True, she has forced thee from my…

Remember him, whom Passion’s powe… Severely—-deeply—-vainly proved: Remember thou that dangerous hour, When neither fell, though both wer… That yielding breast, that melting…

‘But if any old lady, knight, prie… Should condemn me for printing a s… If good Madam Squintum my work sh… May I venture to give her a smack… CANDOUR compels me, BECHER!…

Thine eyes’ blue tenderness, thy l… And the wan lustre of thy features… From contemplation-where serenely… Seems Sorrow’s softness charm’d f… Have thrown such speaking sadness…

'Tis known, at least it should be,… All countries of the Catholic per… Some weeks before Shrove Tuesday… The People take their fill of rec… And buy repentance, ere they grow…

Thy cheek is pale with thought, bu… And yet so lovely, that if Mirth… Its rose of whiteness with the bri… My heart would wish away that rude… And dazzle not thy deep—blue eyes—…

Weep, daughter of a royal line, A Sire’s disgrace, a realm’s deca… Ah! happy if each tear of thine Could wash a father’s fault away! Weep—for thy tears are Virtue’s t…

When amatory poets sing their love… In liquid lines mellifluously blan… And pair their rhymes as Venus yo… They little think what mischief is… The greater their success the wors…