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Preface The Retrospect Romance To Urban The Miser's Mansion Elegy. The Decayed Farm-House Epitaph Elegy. The Decayed Monastery To Hymen Hospitality Sonnet 1. To Ariste Sonnet 2. Sonnet 3. Sonnet 4. Sonnet 5. Dunnington-Castle Sonnet 6. Sonnet 7. Written on a Journey Sonnet 8. To Happiness Sonnet 9. Sonnet 10. To Fame Sonnet 11. To the Fire Sonnet 12. The Faded Flower Sonnet 13. To Sensibility Sonnet 14. To Health Sonnet 15. To the Nightingale Sonnet 16. To Reflection The Wish. To a Friend To Lycon To Lycon Rosamund to Henry; written after she had taken the Veil The Race of Odin The Death of Odin The Death of Moses The Death of Mattathias
PREFACE
THE PHILOSOPHERS BANQVET,
Newly Furnished and decked forth with much variety of many severall dishes,
aptly sayeth
"To the Iuditious Reader,
"Good Reader, many things hath beene written by many men, and the over-cloying humor of this age hath so overburdened the world with multiplicity of al kinds, that scarce there is one subject left upon the head whereof a hundred have not trampled over: amongst which impartial handling, it may bee possible that some one corner hath escaped this scrutenous search, and beene raked over with a lighter hand than other."
We feel the justice of this remark as applicable to modern poetry. Much novelty cannot be expected. In submitting the following volume to the public, we attempt neither to prejudice them in its favour, or supplicate them in behalf of its faults.
THE RETROSPECT.
................ "On life's wide plain Cast friendless, where unheard some sufferer cries Hourly, and oft our road is lone and long, Twere not a crime, should we awhile delay Amid the sunny field; and happier they, Who, as they wander, woo the charm of song To cheer their path, 'till they forget to weep, And the tired sense is husht and sinks to sleep."
BOWLES.
As on I journey through the vale of years, Cheer'd by fond hopes, and chill'd by doubtful fears; Allow me, Memory, in thy treasur'd store, To view those days that will return no more: Oh! let thy vivid pencil call to view Each distant scene, each long-past hour anew, Ere yet my bosom knew the touch of grief, Ere yet my bosom lov'd the lyre's relief.
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