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CONTENT S.

CHARLES LAMB: A PREFATORY MEMOIR. Dedication to Samuel Taylor Coleridge

PAGE

3 31

POETICAL WORKS.

PAGE XXIV. An album is a banquet : from the store

41 xxv. Lady unknown, who cravest from me unknown

42 xxvi. In Christian world Mary the garland wears

42 MISCELLANEOUS PoemsPreliminary Motto

43 Dedication

43 Childhood

43 The Grandame

44 The Sabbath Bells

44 Fancy Einployed on Divine sub

jects
The Tomb of Douglas :
To Charles Lloyd: an Unexpected
Visitor.

45

her eye.

45 45

35

36

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36

47

PAGE EARLIEST AND LATER SONNETS. 1. Was it some sweet device of Faöry

33 11. Methinks how dainty sweet it were, reclined

33 111. As when a child on some long winter's night.

34 iv. O, I could laugh to hear the midnight wind

34 v. When last I roved these wind.

ing wood-walks green, 34 VI. A timid grace sits trembling in

35 VII. If from my lips some angry accents fell

35 vii. We were two pretty babes, the youngest she

35 ix. By Enfield lanes, and Winch

more's verdant hill.
x. Forgive me, Burney, if to thee

these late.
xi. I was not train'd in Academic

bowers.
x11. You are not, Kelly, of the
common strain

37 xi. Rare artist! who with half thy tools, or none..

37 xiv. Let hate, or

grosser heats,
their foulness mask
xv. Who first invented work; and

bound the free
xvi. They talk of time, and of time's

galling yoke
xvii. Rogers, of all the men that i
have known

39 XVIII. Suck, baby, suck, mother's

love grows by giving .
xix. Queen-bird, that sittest on thy
shining nest

39 xx. What reason first imposed thee, gentle name

40 xxi. John, you were figuring in the gay career

40 XXII. O lift with reverent hand that tarnish'd flower

40 xxi. A passing glance was all i caught of thee

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48

38

49 50 50 51 52 53

38

38

BLANK Verse

To Charles Lloyd
Written on the Day of my Aunt's

Funeral
Written a Year after the Events .
Written soon after the preceding

Poem
Written on Christmas Day, 1797
The Old Familiar Faces
Composed at Midnight .
Living without God in the World

Thekla's Song
POETRY FOR CHILDREN--

Hester
The Three Friends
To a River in which a child was

drowned
Queen Oriana's Dream:
MINOR POEMS-

A Ballad-Rich and Poor.
Lines on a Celebrated Picture
A Vision of Repentance
A Farewell to Tobacco .
To T. L. H.-A Child .
The Triumph of the Whale
A Birthday Thought

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39

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57 PAGE
TRANSLATIONS FROM THE LATIN OF

58 58

59 61 61 62 . 273

VINCENT BOURNE-continued :
Ca a Deaf and Dumb Artist.
Newton's Principia

75
The Housekeeper

75
The Female Orators.

76
Pindaric Ode to the Treadmill

76
Going or Gone

77
On R. B. Haydon's '“ Jerusalem”.

78
Translation

79
To my Friend the Indicator.

79

SATAN IN SEARCH OF A Wife-

Dedication

80

Part the First

80

Part the Second

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THR ADVENTURES OF ULYSSES

MINOR TALES-

Juke Judkins

The Defeat of Time.

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ILLUSTRATIONS.

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Portrait of Charles Lamb by Henry Meyer
Facsimiles- I. Sonnet xxv.

“ In Christian world Mary the garland wears

I'll cock my hat and draw my sword”.
3. “No wonder girls in country towns'
4. On Roast Hare
5. On Munden's Acting
6. The True Barbara S

Frontispiece
(Opposite page) 42

178

2.

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Dedication

TO

SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE.

(The following dedicatory epistle was prefixed to the first collected edition of Charles Lamb's Works, published in two volumes octavo by Charles and J. Ollier, in 1818-not a word of Elia being then written. The asterisks refer to the sign of "The Salutation and Cat," at No. 17, Newgate Street, an old-fashioned tavern, in the wainscoted parlour of which Coleridge and Lamb used often to meet of nights during the former's occasional visits to London while he was yet a student at Cambridge.]

MY DEAR COLERIDGE,— You will smile to see the slender labours of your friend designated by the title of Works: but such was the wish of the gentlemen who have kindly undertaken the trouble of collecting them, and from their judgment could be no appeal.

It would be a kind of disloyalty to offer to any one but yourself a volume containing the early pieces, which were first published among your poems, and were fairly derivatives from you and them. My friend Lloyd and myself came into our first battle (authorship is a sort of warfare) under cover of the greater Ajax. How this association, which shall always be a dear and proud recollection to me, came to be broken, --who snapped the threefold cord, -- whether yourself (but I know that was not the case) grew ashamed of your former companions,

; -or whether (which is by much the more probable) some ungracious bookseller was author of the separation, -I cannot tell;— but wanting the support of your friendly elm (I speak for myself), my vine has, since that time, put forth few or no fruits; the sap (if ever it had any) has become, in a manner, dried up and extinct : and you will find your old associate, in his second volume, dwindled into prose and criticism.

Am I right in assuming this as the cause? or is it that, as years come upon us (except with some more healthy-happy spirits), life itself loses much of its poetry for us? we transcribe but what we read in the great volume of Nature ; and, as the characters grow dim, we turn off, and look another way. self write no Christabels, nor Ancient Mariners, now.

Some of the Sonnets, which shall be carelessly turned over by the general reader, may happily awaken in you remembrances, which I should be sorry should be ever totally extinct-the memory

Of summer days and, of delightful years—

You your

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