O, Bard! whom sure no common muse inspires, I heard your verse that glows with vestal fires; And I from unwatch'd needle's erring point Had surely suffered on each finger joint, Those wounds, which erst did poor Arachne meet; While he, the much-loved object of my choice, (My bosom thrilling with enthusiast heat) Pour'd on my ear, with deep impressive voice, How the great Prophet of the desert stood, And preach'd of penitence by Jordan's flood: On war; or else the legendary lays, In simplest measures hymn'd to Alla's praise; Or what the Bard from his heart's inmost stores, O'er his friend's grave in loftier numbers pours: Yes, Bard polite! you but obey'd the laws Of justice, when the thimble you had sent; What wounds your thought-bewildering muse might cause, 'Tis well, your finger-shielding gifts prevent. SARA." "Dear Cottle, I have heard nothing of my Tragedy, except some silly remarks of Kemble's, to whom a friend showed it; it does not appear to me that there is a shadow of probability that it will be accepted. It gave me no pain, and great pleasure, in finding that it gave me no pain. I had rather hoped than believed that I was possessed of so much philosophical capability. Sheridan most certainly has not used me with common justice. The proposal came from himself, and although this circumstance did not bind him to accept the tragedy, it certainly bound him to every, and that the earliest, attention to it. I suppose it is snugly in his green bag, if it have not emigrated to the kitchen. I sent to the Monthly Magazine, (1797) three mock Sonnets, in ridicule of my own Poems, and Charles Lloyd's, and Lamb's, &c. &c. exposing that affectation of unaffectedness, of jumping and misplaced accent, in common-place epithets, flat lines forced into poetry by italics, (signifying how well and mouthishly the author would read them) puny pathos, &c. &c. the instances were almost all taken from myself, and Lloyd, and Lamb. I signed them 'Nehemiah Higginbotham.' I think they may do good to our young Bards. God love you, S. T. C." P. S. I am translating the 'Oberon' of Wieland; it is a difficult language, and I can translate at least as fast as I can construe. I have made also a very considerable proficiency in the French language, and study it daily, and daily study the German; so that I am not, and have not been idle.... SONNETS. ATTEMPTED IN THE MANNER OP CONTEMPORARY WRITERS. * * * * * SONNET I.