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ROSY HANNAH. A SONG

1

A SPRING o’erhung with many a flow’r,

The grey sand dancing in its bed,

Embank’d beneath a Hawthorn bower,

Sent forth its waters near my head:

A rosy Lass approach’d my view; 5

I caught her blue eye’s modest beam:

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ON HEARING OF THE TRANSLATION OF THE FARMER’S BOY INTO LATIN; By the Rev Mr C———

HEY Giles! in what new garb art dress’d?

For Lads like you methinks a bold one;

I’m glad to see thee so caresst;

But, hark ye!—don’t despise your old one.

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A WORD TO TWO YOUNG LADIES

WHEN tender Rose-trees first receive

On half-expanded Leaves, the Shower;

Hope’s gayest pictures we believe,

And anxious watch each coming flower.

2

Then, if beneath the genial Sun 5

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SONG FOR A HIGHLAND DROVER RETURNING FROM ENGLAND

⁽¹⁾

[First published as ‘Song, for a Highland Drover, returning from England’ in The Monthly
Mirror, 12 (September 1801), 195–96.]

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THE FRENCH MARINER: A BALLAD

1

AN Old French Mariner am I,

Whom Time hath render’d poor and gray;

Hear, conquering Britons, ere I die,

What anguish prompts me thus to say.

2

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DOLLY. A BALLAD

‘Ingenuous trust, and confidence of Love.’

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THE FAKENHAM GHOST. A BALLAD

1

The Lawns were dry in Euston Park;

(Here Truth

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MARKET-NIGHT. A BALLAD

1

‘O Winds, howl not so long and loud;

Nor with your vengeance arm the snow:

Bear hence each heavy-loaded cloud;

And let the twinkling Star-beams glow.

2

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THE WIDOW TO HER HOUR-GLASS

1

COME, friend, I’ll turn thee up again:

Companion of the lonely hour!

Spring thirty times hath fed with rain

And cloath’d with leaves my humble bower,

Since thou hast stood5

In frame of wood,