Title] Effusion x. 1796 (To Earl Stanhope _Contents_): Sonnet xvi. 1803: Sonnet ix. 1852. LINES[90:2] TO A FRIEND IN ANSWER TO A MELANCHOLY LETTER Away, those cloudy looks, that labouring sigh, The peevish offspring of a sickly hour! Nor meanly thus complain of Fortune's power, When the blind Gamester throws a luckless die. Yon setting Sun flashes a mournful gleam 5 Behind those broken clouds, his stormy train: To-morrow shall the many-colour'd main In brightness roll beneath his orient beam! Wild, as the autumnal gust, the hand of Time Flies o'er his mystic lyre: in shadowy dance 10 The alternate groups of Joy and Grief advance Responsive to his varying strains sublime! Bears on its wing each hour a load of Fate; The swain, who, lull'd by Seine's mild murmurs, led His weary oxen to their nightly shed, 15 To-day may rule a tempest-troubled State. Nor shall not Fortune with a vengeful smile Survey the sanguinary Despot's might, And haply hurl the Pageant from his height Unwept to wander in some savage isle. 20 There shiv'ring sad beneath the tempest's frown Round his tir'd limbs to wrap the purple vest; And mix'd with nails and beads, an equal jest! Barter for food, the jewels of his crown. ? 1795. FOOTNOTES: [90:2] First published in 1796: included in 1803, 1828, 1829, and 1834. LINENOTES: Title] Epistle II. To a Friend, &c. 1796: To a Friend, &c. 1803. TO AN INFANT[91:1] Ah! cease thy tears and sobs, my little Life! I did but snatch away the unclasp'd knife: Some safer toy will soon arrest thine eye, And to quick laughter change this peevish cry! Poor stumbler on the rocky coast of Woe, 5 Tutor'd by Pain each source of pain to know! Alike the foodful fruit and scorching fire Awake thy eager grasp and young desire; Alike the Good, the Ill offend thy sight, And rouse the stormy sense of shrill Affright! 10 Untaught, yet wise! mid all thy brief alarms Thou closely clingest to thy Mother's arms, Nestling thy little face in that fond breast Whose anxious heavings lull thee to thy rest! Man's breathing Miniature! thou mak'st me sigh-- 15 A Babe art thou--and such a Thing am I! To anger rapid and as soon appeas'd, For trifles mourning and by trifles pleas'd, Break Friendship's mirror with a tetchy blow, Yet snatch what coals of fire on Pleasure's altar glow! 20 O thou that rearest with celestial aim The future Seraph in my mortal frame, Thrice holy Faith! whatever thorns I meet As on I totter with unpractis'd feet, Still let me stretch my arms and cling to thee, 25 Meek nurse of souls through their long Infancy! 1795. FOOTNOTES: