Thou water turn'st to wine (fair friend of life)
Thy God was making haste into thy roof
Thy hands are washed, but O, the water's spilt
To see both blended in one flood -
To Thee these first-fruits of My growing death
To thy lover
Two devils at one blow thou hast laid flat
Two mites, two drops (yet all her house and land)
Two went to pray? O rather say -
Unde rubor vestris, et non sua purpura lymphis ? -
Under thy shadow may I lurk awhile
Welcome, my grief, my joy; how dear's
Well, Peter, dost thou wield thy active sword
What bright soft thing is this
Whatever story of their cruelty
What Heaven-besieged heart is this
What? Mars' sword ? fair Cytherea say
What succour can I hope the Muse will send
Whence in your waters, say, that alien glow ?
When you are mistress of the song
Where art thou, Sol, while thus the blindfold Day
Whoe'er she be
Why dost thou wound my wounds, O thou that passest by
Would any one the true cause find

WILLIAM ANDREWS & Co., PRINTERS, HULL.

CARMEN DEO NOSTRO.

Dressed in the glorious madness of a Muse,
Whose feet can walk the Milky-way, and choose
Her starry throne ; whose holy heats can warm
The grave, and hold up an exalted arm
To lift me from my lazy urn, to climb
Upon the stooped shoulders of old Time,
And trace eternity.

TO THE MORNING.