English

This Little, Silent, Gloomy Monument,
Contains all that was sweet and innocent;
The softest pratler that e'er found a Tongue,
His Voice was Musick and his Words a Song;
Which now each List'ning Angel smiling hears,
Such pretty Harmonies compose the Spheres;
Wanton as unfledg'd Cupids, ere their Charms
Had learn'd the little arts of doing harms;
Fair as young Cherubins, as soft and kind,
And tho translated could not be refin'd;
The Seventh dear pledge the Nuptial Joys had given,
Toil'd here on Earth, retir'd to rest in Heaven;

So Abram rose, and clave the wood, and went,
And took the fire with him, and a knife.
And as they sojourned both of them together,
Isaac the first-born spake and said, My Father,
Behold the preparations, fire and iron,
But where the lamb for this burnt-offering?
Then Abram bound the youth with belts and straps,
And builded parapets and trenches there,
And stretched forth the knife to slay his son.
When lo! an angel called him out of heaven,
Saying, Lay not thy hand upon the lad,
Neither do anything to him. Behold,

Far overhead—the glass set fair—
I heard a raven in the air;
'Twixt roof and stars it fanning went,
And croaked in sudden dreariment.

Over the pages of my book
I, listening, cast a sidelong look.
Curtained the window; shut the door;
I turned me to my book once more;
But in that quiet strove in vain
To win its pleasure back again.

There is a wind where the rose was;
Cold rain where sweet grass was;
And clouds like sheep
Stream o'er the steep
Grey skies where the lark was.

Nought gold where your hair was;
Nought warm where your hand was;
But phantom, forlorn,
Beneath the thorn,
Your ghost where your face was.

Sad winds where your voice was;
Tears, tears where my heart was;
And ever with me,
Child, ever with me,
Silence where hope was.

My mind is like a clamorous market-place.
All day in wind, rain, sun, its babel wells;
Voice answering to voice in tumult swells.
Chaffering and laughing, pushing for a place,
My thoughts haste on, gay, strange, poor, simple, base;
This one buys dust, and that a bauble sells:
But none to any scrutiny hints or tells
The haunting secrets hidden in each sad face.

The clamour quietens when the dark draws near;
Strange looms the earth in twilight of the West,
Lonely with one sweet star serene and clear,

Ah, poore Loue, whi dost thou liue,
Thus to se thy seruice lost?
Ife she will no comforte geue,
Make an end, yeald vp the goaste;
That she may at lengthe aproue
That she hardlye long beleued,
That the harte will dye for loue
That is not in tyme relieued.
Ohe that euer I was borne,
Seruice so to be refused,
Faythfull loue to be foreborne!
Neuer loue was so abused.
But, swet Loue, be still a whylle;
She that hurte thee, Loue, maye healle thee;
Sweet, I see within her smylle
More than reason can reueale thee.

The only Man that eer I knew
Who did not make me almost spew
Was Fuseli he was both Turk & Jew
And so [sweet] dear Christian Friends how do you do

For this is being a Friend just in the nick
Not when hes well but waiting till hes sick
He calls you to his help be you not movd
Untill by being Sick his wants are provd

You see him spend his Soul in Prophecy
Do you believe it a confounded lie
Till some Bookseller & the Public Fame
Proves there is truth in his extravagant claim

ON THE GREAT ENCOURAGEMENT
GIVEN BY ENGLISH NOBILITY & GENTRY
TO CORREGGIO RUBENS REMBRANDT
REYNOLDS GAINSBOROUGH CATALANI
DUCROWE & DILBURY DOODLE

As the Ignorant Savage will sell his own Wife
For a [Button a (Bauble) Buckle a Bead or] Sword or a Cutlass a dagger or Knife
So the [wise/Learned] Taught Savage Englishman [gives] spends his whole Fortune
[For] On a smear or a squall [that is not] to destroy Picture [nor] or Tune
And I call upon Colonel Wardle
To give these Rascals a dose of Cawdle

Let now your soul in this substantial world
Some anchor strike. Be here the body moored:—
This spectacle immutably from now
The picture in your eye; and when time strikes,
And the green scene goes on the instant blind—
The ultimate helpers, where your horse to-day
Conveyed you dreaming, bear your body dead.

When the blind suppliant in the way,
By friendly hands to Jesus led,
Prayed to behold the light of day,
“Receive thy sight,” the Saviour said.

At once he saw the pleasant rays
That lit the glorious firmament;
And, with firm step and words of praise,
He followed where the Master went.

Look down in pity, Lord, we pray,
On eyes oppressed by moral night,
And touch the darkened lids and say
The gracious words, “Receive thy sight.”

Then, in clear daylight, shall we see
Where walked the sinless Son of God;