3 Thus the wild flood with deafening roar Bursts dreadful from on high; But soon its empty rage is o'er, And leaves the channel dry: 4 While the pure stream, which still and slow Its gentler current brings, Through every change of time shall flow With unexhausted springs. VERSES, COPIED FROM THE WINDOW OF AN OBSCURE LODGING-HOUSE, IN THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF LONDON. Stranger! whoe'er thou art, whose restless mind, Like me within these walls is cribbed, confined; Learn how each want that heaves our mutual sigh A woman's soft solicitudes supply. From her white breast retreat all rude alarms, Or fly the magic circle of her arms; While souls exchanged alternate grace acquire, And passions catch from passion's glorious fire: What though to deck this roof no arts combine, Such forms as rival every fair but mine; No nodding plumes, our humble couch above, Proclaim each triumph of unbounded love; No silver lamp with sculptured Cupids gay, O'er yielding beauty pours its midnight ray; Yet Fanny's charms could Time's slow flight beguile, Soothe every care, and make each dungeon smile: In her, what kings, what saints have wished, is given, Her heart is empire, and her love is heaven. THE OLD BACHELOR. AFTER THE MANNER OF SPENSER. 1 In Phoebus' region while some bards there be That sing of battles, and the trumpet's roar; Yet these, I ween, more powerful bards than me, Above my ken, on eagle pinions soar! Haply a scene of meaner view to scan, Beneath their laurelled praise my verse may give, To trace the features of unnoticed man; Deeds, else forgotten, in the verse may live! Her lore, mayhap, instructive sense may teach, From weeds of humbler growth within my lowly reach. 2 A wight there was, who single and alone Had crept from vigorous youth to waning age, Nor e'er was worth, nor e'er was beauty known His heart to captive, or his thought engage: Some feeble joyaunce, though his conscious mind Might female worth or beauty give to wear, Yet to the nobler sex he held confined The genuine graces of the soul sincere, And well could show with saw or proverb quaint All semblance woman's soul, and all her beauty paint. 3 In plain attire this wight apparelled was, (For much he conned of frugal lore and knew,) Nor, till some day of larger note might cause, From iron-bound chest his better garb he drew: But when the Sabbath-day might challenge more, Or feast, or birthday, should it chance to be, A glossy suit devoid of stain he wore, And gold his buttons glanced so fair to see, Gold clasped his shoon, by maiden brushed so sheen, And his rough beard he shaved, and donned his linen clean.