And why, fince thousands would be proud

Of fuch a favour shown,

Am I felected from the crowd

To witness it alone?

Sing'ft thou, fweet Philomel, to me,
For that I also long

Have practifed in the groves like thee,
Though not like thee in fong?

Or fing'ft thou, rather, under force
Of fome divine command,
Commiffion'd to presage a course
Of happier days at hand?

Thrice welcome then! for many a long

And joyless year have I,

As thou to-day, put forth my fong
Beneath a wintry sky.

But Thee no wintry skies can harm,

Who only need'st to fing

To make e'en January charm,

And every feafon Spring.

LINES WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM

Of Mifs Patty More's, Sifter of Hannah More.

N vain to live from age to age

While modern bards endeavour,
I write my name in Patty's page,
And gain my point for ever.

W. Cowper.

March 6, 1792.

SONNET TO WILLIAM WILBERFORCE,

ESQ;

HY country, Wilberforce, with just disdain,

Hears thee by cruel men and impious call'd

Fanatic, for thy zeal to loose the inthrall'd From exile, public fale, and flavery's chain. Friend of the poor, the wrong'd, the fettergall'd,

Fear not left labour fuch as thine be vain.

Thou hast achieved a part; haft gain'd the ear

Of Britain's fenate to thy glorious cause;

Hope fmiles, joy springs, and, though cold caution pause

And weave delay, the better hour is near
That shall remunerate thy toils fevere
By peace for Afric, fenced with British laws.

Enjoy what thou hast won, esteem and love
From all the just on earth and all the blest above.

April 16, 1792.

EPIGRAM.

(Printed in the Northampton Mercury.)

O purify their wine some people bleed A lamb into the barrel, and fucceed; No noftrum, planters fay, is half so good To make fine fugar as a negro's blood. Now lambs and negroes both are harmless things, And thence perhaps this wondrous virtue fprings, 'Tis in the blood of innocence alone

Good cause why planters never try their own.

TO DR. AUSTIN, OF CECIL STREET, LONDON.

USTIN! accept a grateful verse from me,
The poet's treasure, no inglorious fee.
Loved by the Muses, thy ingenuous mind

Pleafing requital in my verse may find;

Verse oft has dash'd the scythe of Time aside,
Immortalizing names which elfe had died:
And O! could I command the glittering wealth
With which fick kings are glad to purchase health!
Yet, if extenfive fame, and fure to live,

Were in the power of verse like mine to give,
I would not recompense his art with less,
Who, giving Mary health, heals my diftrefs.
Friend of my friend!* I love thee tho' unknown,
And boldly call thee, being his, my own.
May 26, 1792.

CATHARINA:

The Second Part: On her Marriage to George Courtenay, Efq.

B

ELIEVE it or not, as you choose,
The doctrine is certainly true,

That the future is known to the Muse,

And poets are oracles too.

I did but express a desire

To fee Catharina at home,

At the fide of my friend George's fire,
And lo-she is actually come.

Such prophecy fome may despise,
But the wish of a poet and friend

* Hayley.

Perhaps is approved in the skies,

And therefore attains to its end. 'Twas a wish that flew ardently forth From a bofom effectually warm'd With the talents, the graces, and worth Of the person for whom it was form’d.

Maria* would leave us, I knew,

To the grief and regret of us all, But lefs to our grief, could we view Catharina the Queen of the Hall. And therefore I wifh'd as I did,

And therefore this union of hands; Not a whisper was heard to forbid, But all cry-Amen! to the bans.

Since, therefore, I seem to incur
No danger of wishing in vain
When making good wifhes for Her,
I will e'en to my wishes again-
With one I have made her a Wife,
And now I will try with another,
Which I cannot fupprefs for my life-
How foon I can make her a Mother.
June, 1792.

*Lady Throckmorton.