nexprest,
That pang shall gentle Delia know,
And silent treasure up her woe.

[Footnote A: I am indebted to Petrarch for some of the imagery
contained in these Lines.]

VALENTINE VERSES,

_Sent to my young Friend, Miss Emma Trevelyan_,

OF WALLINGTON-HOUSE, NORTHUMBERLAND.

Emma! 'tis early time for thee
To hear the sounds of minstrelsy,
That breathe around the rosy shrine
Of honest old Saint Valentine.

Too young art thou for strains of love;
'Tis not thy passion I would move;
Instead of lover's strains, I send
The cordial wishes of a friend.

Nobly has Nature done her duty,
To give thee of thy mother's beauty
So large a share--oh! then be thine
The mental charms that in her shine!

And may thy father's taste refin'd
Still add new graces to thy mind;
And may'st thou to each charm impart
The gen'rous frankness of his heart.

Then, my sweet Emma! thou shall move
In many a heart more genuine love
Than ever warm'd poetic line,
Or sigh'd in any Valentine.

LINES

WRITTEN UPON SEEING A BLIND YOUNG WOMAN IN NORTH WALES,

Who supports herself, and an aged and infirm Mother, by selling
Stockings and Gloves of her own Knitting, which she offers to
Travellers as they pass by; in doing which she has been known
to run close by the Side of a Carriage for several Miles.

POOR BLIND BET.

The morning purple on the hill,
The village spire, the ivy'd tow'r,
The sparkling wheel of yonder mill,
The grove, green field, and op'ning flow'r,
Are lost to thee!

Dark child of Nature, as thou art!
Yet thy poor bosom heaves no sigh;
E'en now thy dimpling cheeks impart
Their knowledge of some pleasure nigh:--
'Tis good for thee!

Thou seem'st to say "I've sunshine too;
'Tis beaming in a spotless breast;
No shade of guilt obstructs the view,
And there are many not so blest,
Who day's blush see.

"Dear are those eyes, by mine ne'er seen,
Which I protect from many a tear;
Kind stranger! 'tis on yonder green
A mother's aged form I rear:
Oh! buy of me!"

LINES

UPON SEEING ----

_At one of the annual Banquets given in Guildhall_.

Gorgeous and splendid was the sight;
From myriad lamps a fairy light
Enshrin'd in wreaths the Gothic wall,
And heav'nly music fill'd the hall!

But there was one--(alas! that I
Had ever seen)--the melody
Her voice surpassed, and brighter far
Her eyes than ev'ry mimic star!