I beg the reader's particular attention), introduced a few very elegant poems, or fragments of poems, with which I have accidentally met, since writing my own. And although they may not be strictly illustrative of those to which they are attached; yet there will readily appear a sufficient connexion between them, to plead an apology for their introduction here. And as they are written with great elegance and feeling, they will, I am sure, be read by every one of taste and judgment, with much pleasure, interest, and satisfaction.

THE AUTHOR.

On a Parent presenting his Portrait to his two Sons.

A Christmas Carol, for two Brothers.

On a Summer-house built on Corse-hill, by Jeremiah

On hearing a Lady sing the ballad "Go, forget me."

85

On the Departure of a valued Friend and Family from

ON REVISITING THE CATHEDRAL OF

HEREFORD, 1839.

Hail, noble pile, whose tow'ring head
Smiles o'er old Vaga's winding stream;
Sacred deposit of the dead,

Whose deeds are now th' historian's theme: Within whose walls the holy word

Of truth, which brought salvation near, Still, as for centuries long pass'd, is heard, To melt the heart, and claim th' attentive ear.

Hail! venerable, noble pile!

Again I hail thy goodly sight; Thy fretted vault, thy long-drawn aisle, That fill my bosom with delight. What varied thoughts possess my soul, While pond'ring on thy spacious walls! What by-gone scenes before my fancy roll, Which legends tell, or memory recalls!

B

Imagination's busy wing

May take her flight to cent'ries gone, When in mock penance Mercia's King First planted thy foundation stone. Here many a Prince and Prelate grave, In gorgeous robe, and rich attire,

Swell'd th' unholy pompous train, that gave A solemn sanction to the murd'rers hire.

Fancy may paint, in glowing strains,
The proud parade, the gaudy throng
Of mitred Abbots with their trains,

That pac'd thy cloister'd courts along; While, rear'd with costly state, they bare The elevated Host on high;

And monkish priestcraft lent a lofty air, To that which should bespeak humility.

Borne on with rapid wings again,
Fancy may paint a diff'rent scene,
May tell, with waken'd grief and pain,

A tale of woe and anguish keen: