Find that some peace is yet in store for me? Leave to me thought, oh leave to me a den,

And then from agony to be set free Sufficeth for the heart broken by agony.

Once more, oh Father, hear!-Thy will is power!

Act, thy decision is;-all, all is thine!The pangs that shake me, bodings that devour, Both how I agonize, and how I pine,

Thou knowest well: and though each faltering line

Of mine betray affliction's cleaving curse, Thou knowest well the torments that are mine As far exceed the pictures of my verse, As atoms are exceeded by the universe.

Lays such as these might then seem roundelays, And madrigals, compared to truth's plain theme,

To elegies, to epitaphs, on days,

On friends, on joys, departed like a beam Of summer, or the lightning's trackless gleam: Oh, then, my humble prayer do not deny If I implore, or that the feverish dream Of life might end, or that in liberty

Forgotten I might live, since unwept I must die.

POEMS

ON

The Death

OF

PRISCILLA FARMER;

BY HER GRANDSON,

CHARLES LLOYD.

Death! thou hast visited that pleasant place, Where in this hard world I have happiest been.

BOWLES.

THIRD EDITION,

SONNET.

THE piteous sobs that choak the Virgin's breath, For him, the fair betrothed Youth, who lies Cold in the narrow dwelling; or the cries With which a Mother wails her Darling's death; These from our Nature's common impulse spring

Unblam'd, unprais'd; but o'er the piled earth, Which hides the sheeted corse of grey-hair'd Worth,

If droops the soaring Youth with slacken'd wing; If He recal in saddest minstrelsy

Each tenderness bestow'd, each truth imprest; Such Grief is Reason, Virtue, Piety!

And from the Almighty Father shall descend Comforts on his late Evening, whose young

breast

Mourns with no transient love the Aged Friend.

S. T. COLERIDGE.

L