I profess,
These all, than Saxon EDITH, please me less.

TO DORA W[ORDSWORTH],

_On Being Asked by Her Father to Write in Her Album_

An Album is a Banquet: from the store,
In his intelligential Orchard growing,
Your Sire might heap your board to overflowing;
One shaking of the Tree--'twould ask no more
To set a Salad forth, more rich than that
Which Evelyn[12] in his princely cookery fancied:
Or that more rare, by Eve's neat hands enhanced,
Where, a pleased guest, the angelic Virtue sat.
But like the all-grasping Founder of the Feast,
Whom Nathan to the sinning king did tax,
From his less wealthy neighbours he exacts;
Spares his own flocks, and takes the poor man's beast.
Obedient to his bidding, lo, I am,
A zealous, meek, _contributory_

LAMB.

[Footnote 12: Acetaria, a Discourse of Sallets, by J.E., 1706.]

IN THE ALBUM OF ROTHA Q[UILLINAN]

A passing glance was all I caught of thee,
In my own Enfield haunts at random roving.
Old friends of ours were with thee, faces loving;
Time short: and salutations cursory,
Though deep, and hearty. The familiar Name
Of you, yet unfamiliar, raised in me
Thoughts--what the daughter of that Man should be,
Who call'd our Wordsworth friend. My thoughts did frame
A growing Maiden, who, from day to day
Advancing still in stature, and in grace,
Would all her lonely Father's griefs efface,
And his paternal cares with usury pay.
I still retain the phantom, as I can;
And call the gentle image--Quillinan.

IN THE ALBUM OF CATHERINE ORKNEY

Canadia! boast no more the toils
Of hunters for the furry spoils;
Your whitest ermines are but foils
To brighter Catherine Orkney.

That such a flower should ever burst
From climes with rigorous winter curst!--
We bless you, that so kindly nurst
This flower, this Catherine Orkney.

We envy not your proud display
Of lake--wood--vast Niagara:
Your greatest pride we've borne away.
How spared you Catherine Orkney?

That Wolfe on Heights of Abraham fell,
To your reproach no more we tell:
Canadia, you r