So forth she sallied blithe and gay,

And met dame Fashion by the way;

And many a kind and friendly greeting
Passed on their meeting:

Nor let the fact your wonder move,

Abroad, and on a gala-day,

Fashion and she are hand and glove.

So on they walked together,

Bright was the weather;

Dame Charity was frank and warm ;

But being rather apt to tire,

She leant on Fashion's arm.

And now away for West End fair,

Where whiskey, chariot, coach, and chair,

Are all in requisition..

In neat attire the Graces

Behind the counters take their places,

And humbly do petition

To dress the booths with flowers and sweets,

As fine as any May-day,

Where Charity with Fashion meets,

And keeps her play-day.

DIRGE:

WRITTEN NOVEMBER 1808.

PURE spirit! O where art thou now!

O whisper to my soul!

O let some soothing thought of thee,

This bitter grief controul!

"Tis not for thee the tears I shed, Thy sufferings now are o'er;

The sea is calm, the tempest past,

On that eternal shore.

No more the storms that wrecked thy peace

Shall tear that gentle breast;

Nor Summer's rage, nor Winter's cold,

Thy poor, poor frame molest.

Thy peace is sealed, thy rest is sure,

My sorrows are to come;

Awhile I weep and linger here,

Then follow to the tomb.

And is the awful veil withdrawn,
That shrouds from mortal eyes,

In deep impenetrable gloom,

The secrets of the skies?

O, in some dream of visioned bliss,
Some trance of rapture, show
Where, on the bosom of thy God,

Thou rest'st from human woe!

Thence may thy pure devotion's flame

On me, on me descend;

To me thy strong aspiring hopes,

Thy faith, thy fervours lend.

VOL. I.

Q

Let these my lonely path illume,

And teach my weakened mind

To welcome all that's left of good,

To all that's lost resigned.

Farewell! With honour, peace, and love,

Be thy dear memory blest!

Thou hast no tears for me to shed,

When I too am at rest.