_Here came, under the heading "Blank Verse," "Childhood," see page 9; "The Grandame," see page 6; "The Sabbath Bells," see page 10, "Fancy employed on Divine Subjects," see page 10; and "Composed at Midnight," see page 26._ * * * * * TO MARTIN CHARLES BURNEY, ESQ. (The Dedication to Vol. II. of Lamb's _Works_, 1818) Forgive me, BURNEY, if to thee these late And hasty products of a critic pen, Thyself no common judge of books and men, In feeling of thy worth I dedicate. My _verse_ was offered to an older friend; The humbler _prose_ has fallen to thy share: Nor could I miss the occasion to declare, What spoken in thy presence must offend-- That, set aside some few caprices wild, Those humorous clouds that flit o'er brightest days, In all my threadings of this worldly maze, (And I have watched thee almost from a child), Free from self-seeking, envy, low design, I have not found a whiter soul than thine. ALBUM VERSES IN THE ALBUM OF A CLERGYMAN'S LADY (? 1830) An Album is a Garden, not for show Planted, but use; where wholesome herbs should grow. A Cabinet of curious porcelain, where No fancy enters, but what's rich or rare. A Chapel, where mere ornamental things Are pure as crowns of saints, or angels' wings. A List of living friends; a holier Room For names of some since mouldering in the tomb, Whose blooming memories life's cold laws survive; And, dead elsewhere, they here yet speak, and live. Such, and so tender, should an Album be; And, Lady, such I wish this book to thee. IN THE AUTOGRAPH BOOK OF MRS. SERGEANT W------ Had I a power, Lady, to my will, You should not want Hand Writings. I would fill Your leaves with Autographs--resplendent names Of Knights and Squires of old, and courtly Dames, Kings, Emperors, Popes. Next under these should stand The hands of famous Lawyers--a grave band-- Who in their Courts of Law or Equity Have best upheld Freedom and Property. These should moot cases in your book, and vie To show their reading and their Serjeantry. But I have none of these; nor can I send The notes by Bullen to her Tyrant penn'd In her authentic hand; nor in soft hours Lines writ by Rosamund in Clifford's bowers. The lack of curious Signatures I moan, And want the courage to subscribe my own. IN THE ALBUM OF LUCY BARTON (1824) Little Book, surnamed of _white_, Clean as yet, and fair to sight, Keep thy attribution right. Never disproportion'd scrawl; Ugly blot, that's worse than all; On thy maiden clearness fall!