TO

MAJOR ROOKE OF MANSFIELD,

ON THE PUBLICATION OF HIS DIURNAL REGISTER OF THE

WINDS FOR THE TWO LAST YEARS.

OCTOBER, 1796.

No

gale unlucky may thy fortunes find,
Benign historian of the wayward wind!
But, when it rises with proverbial sway,
it cast all fickleness away

O! may
On grateful wings, from blight, and tempest free,
Blow only good, from every point, to thee!

ΤΟ

CH. CLARKE, Esq.

ON HIS REQUEST TO OBTAIN THE AUTHOR'S SIGNATURE

WRITTEN WITH HER OWN HAND.

(IMPROMPTU.)

OUR self-inscrib'd name, as the scroll were a trea

sure,

When strangers request, in their fanciful pleasure, It flatters the hope that our bark may be scudding From this corporal climate of beef and of pudding, To the high shrine of Fame, where posterity know

men,

And we deem such request a right prosperous omen. But gales inauspicious oft blow from that region, And for one who attains it they blow back a legion;

Then in spite of CLARK's wish, and his brother's kind record,

Whose

rays from that shrine my pale streamers have checker'd,

Its winds will too probably soon blow from leeward, And sink in oblivion's cold waves ANNA SEWARD.

1. 2. Kind record-A Tour through England and Wales was published in 1793, by Edward Clark, Esq. brother to the gentleman whom the above Impromptu addresses. Mr E. Clark's volume is adorned with aquatinta drawings. Lichfield is described there, and very flattering mention made of the Author of this Miscellany,

A

WARNING EXHORTATION.

CELIA, I read thy melting eye;
Thy check'd, yet stealing sighs I hear;
See from thy cheek the roses fly,
Or doubly glow when FLORIO's near.

Ah! not from his seducing glance
Too rashly drink the nectar'd bane!
Avoid him in the graceful dance,
Nor listen to his warbled strain!

It helps not, it avails not there,
Thy beauty's rising power to charm;
That his stung senses own thee fair
Is but thy too triumphant harm.

Ne'er to the sacred, marriage shrine Thee shall the haughty FLORIO lead;

O lost, if still that heart of thine,
On latent, hopeless wishes feed!

Long shall thy love-lit eyes be dim
If soon thou art not bravely free;
The dart will not be barb'd for him,
Which surely shall be barb'd for thee.

Amid the busy scenes of life

Proud FLORIO shall thy image lose,
Forgotten in Ambition's strife,

Eclipsed by Grandeur's dazzling views;

While thou, supine, in lonely shades,
Shalt pale and sullen willows weave,
Swelling the list of hapless maids,
Who sigh disdain'd, neglected grieve.

O then, in time, from future woes
A shield in resolution seek,

And twine no more the thorny rose

'Mid chains thy juster pride should break!

Now, while thou may'st, the bliss dissolve,
That lightens but with transient ray!
Since clouds are gathering, to involve
This shining, faithless, April day.