slavish world,
Where Freedom's banner ever floats unfurl'd,
Fair island of the blest, earth's richest wealth,
Her plague-struck body's little all of health,
Home, gentle name, I woo thee to my song,
To thee my praise, to thee my prayers belong:
Inspire me with thy beauty, bid me teem
With gracious musings worthy of my theme:
Spirit of Love, the soul of Home thou art,
Fan with divinest thoughts my kindling heart;
Spirit of Power, in pray'rs thine aid I ask,
Uphold me, bless me to my holy task;
Spirit of Truth, guide thou my wayward wing;
Love, Power, and Truth, be with me while I sing.

_V'la_: my consolation is that somewhere may be read, in hot-pressed
print, too, many worse poeticals than these, which, however, nine
readers out of ten will have had the worldly wisdom to skip; and the
tenth is soon satiated: yet a tithe is something, at least so think the
modern Levites; so, then, on second thoughts, a victim who is so good a
listener must not be let off quite so cheaply. However, to vary a little
this melancholy musing, and to gild the compulsory pill, Reserve shall
be served up sonnet-wise. (P. S. I love the sonnet, maligned as it is
both by ill-attempting friend and semi-sneering foe: of course, in our
epic, Reserve ambles not about in this uncertain rhyme, but duly stalks
abroad in the uniform dress; iambically still, though extricated from
those involutions, time out of mind the requisite of sonnets.) Stand
forth to be chastised, unpopular

RESERVE.

Thou chilling, freezing fiend, Love's mortal bane,
Lethargic poison of the moral sense,
Killing those high-soul'd children of the brain,
Warm Enterprise and noble Confidence,
Fly from the threshold, traitor--get thee hence!
Without thee, we are open, cheerful, kind;
Mistrusting none but self, injurious self,
Of and to others wishing only good;
With thee, suspicions crowd the gloomy mind,
Suggesting all the world a viperous brood
That acts a base bad part in hope of pelf:
Virtue stands shamed, Truth mute misunderstood,
Honour unhonoured, Courage lacking nerve,
Beneath thy dull domestic curse, Reserve.

Without professing much tendency to the uxorious, all may blamelessly
confess that they see exceeding beauty in a good wife; and we need never
apologize for the unexpected company of ladies: at off-hand then let
this one sit for her portrait. Enduring listener, will the following
serve our