Droop not, dear Emma, dry those falling tears, And call up smiles into thy pallid face, Pallid and care-worn with thy arduous race: In few brief months thou hast done the work of years. To young beginnings natural are these fears. A right good scholar shalt thou one day be, And that no distant one; when even she, Who now to thee a star far off appears, That most rare Latinist, the Northern Maid-- The language-loving Sarah[15] of the Lake-- Shall hail thee Sister Linguist. This will make Thy friends, who now afford thee careful aid, A recompense most rich for all their pains, Counting thy acquisitions their best gains. [Footnote 15: Daughter of S.T. Coleridge, Esq.; an accomplished linguist in the Greek and Latin tongues, and translatress of a History of the Abipones. [Note in _Blackwood_.]] LINES _Addressed to Lieut. R.W.H. Hardy, R.N., on the Perusal of his Volume of Travels in the Interior of Mexico_ 'Tis pleasant, lolling in our elbow chair, Secure at home, to read descriptions rare Of venturous traveller in savage climes; His hair-breadth 'scapes, toil, hunger--and sometimes The merrier passages that, like a foil To set off perils past, sweetened that toil, And took the edge from danger; and I look With such fear-mingled pleasure thro' thy book, Adventurous Hardy! Thou a _diver_[16] art, But of no common form; and for thy part Of the adventure, hast brought home to the nation _Pearls_ of discovery--_jewels_ of observation. ENFIELD, _January_, 1830. [Footnote 16: Captain Hardy practised this art with considerable success. [Note in _Athenaeum_.]] LINES [_For a Monument Commemorating the Sudden Death by Drowning of a Family, of Four Sons and Two Daughters_] (1831) Tears are for lighter griefs. Man weeps the doom, That seals a single victim to the tomb. But when Death riots--when, with whelming sway, Destruction sweeps a family away; When infancy and youth, a huddled mass, All in an instant to oblivion pass, And parents' hopes are crush'd; what lamentation Can reach the depth of such a desolation? Look upward, Feeble Ones! look up and trust, That HE who lays their mortal frame in dust, Still hath the immortal spirit in his keeping-- In Jesus' sight they are not dead but sleeping. TO C. ADERS, ESQ. _On his Collection of Paintings by the old German Masters_ (1831)