328

EPISTLE TO A LADY IN FRANCE.

Thy tender sorrows and thy plaintive strain
Flow in a foreign land, but not in vain;
Thy tears all issue from a source divine,
And ev'ry drop bespeaks a Saviour thine-
So once in Gideon's fleece the dews were found,
And drought on all the drooping herbs around.

ΤΟ

THE REV. W. CAWTHORNE UNWIN.

i

I.

UNWIN, I should but ill repay

The kindness of a friend,

Whose worth deserves as warm a lay,

As ever Friendship penn'd,

Thy name omitted in a page,

That would reclaim a vicious age.

II.

A union form'd, as mine with thee,
Not rashly, or in sport,

May be as fervent in degree,

And faithful in it's sort,

And may as rich in comfort prove,
As that of true fraternal love.

III.

The bud inserted in the rind,

The bud of peach or rose,

Adorns, though diff'ring in it's kind,
The stock whereon it grows,

With flow'r as sweet, or fruit as fair,
As if produc'd by Nature there.

330

TO THE REV. W. CAWTHORNE UNWIN.

IV.

Not rich, I render what I may,
I seize thy name in haste,
And place it in this first essay,

Lest this should prove the last.

'Tis where it should be-in a plan,
That holds in view the good of man.
V.

The poet's lyre, to fix his fame,
Should be the poet's heart;
Affection lights a brighter flame
Than ever blaz'd by art.
No muses on these lines attend,
I sink the poet in the friend.

END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

Stereotyped and printed by A. WILSON,
Duke Street, Lincoln's Inn Fields.