BY T. BENSLEY AND SON, BOLT COURT,

FLEET STREET.

1816.

Oh could my mind, unfolded in my page,

There as it glowed, with noblest frenzy fraught,

Dispense the treasures of exalted thought;

To Virtue wake the pulses of the heart,

And bid the tear of emulation start!

Oh could it still, thro' each succeeding year,

My life, my manners, and

my name endear;

And, when the poet sleeps in silent dust,

Still hold communion with the wise and just !

a

Yet should this Verse, my leisure's best resource,

When thro' the world it steals its secret course,

Revive but once a generous wish supprest,

Chase but a sigh, or charm a care to rest;

In one good deed a fleeting hour employ,

Or flush one faded cheek with honest joy;

Blest were my lines, tho' limited their sphere,

Tho' short their date, as his who traced them here. CONTENTS.

PAGF.

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65

88

The Pleasures of Memory

Epistle to a Friend. ...

Ode to Superstition...

Written to be spoken in a Theatre ..

On - asleep...

Jacqueline ..

97

102

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