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No. III.


In the PERSIAN form and measure.

How sweet the gale of morning breathes ! Sweet news of my delight he brings ;
News, that the rose will soon approach the tuneful bird of night, he brings.
Soon will a thousand parted souls

be led, his captives, through the sky, Since tidings, which in every heart must ardent flames excite, he brings. Late near my charmer's flowing robe he pass'd, and kiss'd the fragrant hem; Thence, odour to the rose bud's veil, and jasmine's mantle white, he brings. Painful is absence, and that pain

to some base rival oft is ow'd ; Thou know'st, dear maid! when to thine ear false tales, contriv'd in spite, he brings. Why should I trace love's mazy path, since destiny my bliss forbids ? Black destiny! my lot is woe,

to me no ray of light he brings. In vain, a friend his mind disturbs, in vain a childish trouble gives, When sage physician to the couch, of heartsick love-lorn wight, he brings. A roving stranger in thy town

no guidance can sad Jami find, 'Till this his name, and rambling lay to thine all-piercing sight he brings.

No. IV.

A SONG, from the PERSIAN, paraphrased in the measure

of the original.

Sweet as the rose that scents the gale,

Bright as the lily of the vale,
Yet with a heart like summer hail,
Marring each beauty thou bearest.

2. Beauty

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Lady Jones having been exposed to some danger in an evening walk over the plains of Plassey, Sir William almost immediately wrote the following stanzas:

No. V.


A BALLAD, addressed to Lady Jones, by her Husband.

Aug. 3, 1784.

"Tis not of Jafer, nor of Clive,

On Plassey's glorious field I sing ; 'Tis of the best good girl alive,

Which most will deem a prettier thing.

The Sun, in gaudy palanqueen,

Curtain’d with purple, fring’d with gold,
Firing no more heav'n's vault serene,

Retir’d to sup with Ganges old.

When Anna, to her bard long dear,

(Who lov'd not Anna on the banks Of Elwy swift, or Testa clear?)

Tripp'd thro' the palm grove's verdant ranks.

Where thou, bloody-thirsty Subahdár,

Wast wont thy kindred beasts to chase,
Till Britain's vengeful hounds of war,

Chas’d thee to that well-destin'd place. * It can scarcely be necessary to recall to the recollection of the reader, the victory gained by Lord Clive, over Seraj’uddoula, Subahdár or Viceroy of Bengal, on Plassey Plain. 3 X


She knew what monsters rang’d the brake,

Stain'd like thyself with 'human gore, The hooded, and the necklac'd snake,

The tiger huge, and tusked boar.

To worth, and innocence approv'd,

E’en monsters of the brake are friends : Thus o'er the plain at ease she mov'd :

Who fears offence that ne'er offends ?

Wild perroquets first silence broke,

Eager of dangers near to prate; But they in English never spoke,

And she began her moors* of late.

Next, patient dromedaries stalk'd,

And wish'd her speech to understand ; But Arabic, was all they talk'd ;

Oh, had her Arab been at hand !

A serpent dire, of size minute,

With necklace brown, and freckled side,
Then hasten'd from her path to shoot,

And o'er the narrow causey glide.

Three elephants, to warn her, call,

But they no western tongue could speak;
Tho' once, at Philobiblian stall,

Fame says, a brother jabber'd Greek.

* A common expression for the Hindustanee, or vernacular language of India.

Superfluous Superfluous was their friendly zeal ;

For what has conscious truth to fear? Fierce boars her pow'rful influence feel,

Mad buffaloes, or furious deer.

E'en tigers, never aw'd before,

And panting for so rare a food,
She dauntless heard around her roar,

While they the jackals vile pursued.

No wonder since, on Elfin Land,

Prais'd in sweet verse by bards adept, A lion vast was known to stand,

Fair virtue's guard, while UNA slept.

Yet, oh! had one her perils known,

(Tho' all the lions in all space Made her security their own)

He ne'er had found a resting place.

No. VI.

On seeing Miss *** ride by him, without knowing her.

Cardigan, August 14th, 1780. So lightly glanc'd she o'er the lawn,

So lightly through the vale,
That not more swiftly bounds the fawn,

In Sidon's palmy dale.

Full well her bright-hair'd courser knew,

How sweet a charge he bore, And proudly shook the tassels blue,

That on his neck he wore.


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