The Works of Charles and Mary Lamb — Volume 4: Poems and PlaysLamb, Charles
General
The Works of Charles and Mary Lamb — Volume 4: Poems and Plays
Lamb, Charles
English drama; English poetry
Esther, holy name and sweet,
Smoothly runs on even feet,
To the mild Acrostic bending;
Hebrew recollections blending.
Ever keep that Queen in view--
Royal namesake--bold, and true!
Firm she stood in evil times,
In the face of Haman's crimes.--
Ev'n as She, do Thou possess
Loftiest virtue in the dress,
Dear F----, of native loveliness.
[TO MRS. WILLIAMS]
(1830)
Go little Poem, and present
Respectful terms of compliment;
A gentle lady bids thee speak!
Courteous is _she_, tho' thou be weak--
Evoke from Heaven as thick as manna
Joy after joy on Grace Joanna:
On Fornham's Glebe and Pasture land
A blessing pray. Long, long may stand,
Not touched by Time, the Rectory blithe;
No grudging churl dispute his Tithe;
At Easter be the offerings due
With cheerful spirit paid; each pew
In decent order filled; no noise
Loud intervene to drown the voice,
Learning, or wisdom of the Teacher;
Impressive be the Sacred Preacher,
And strict his notes on holy page;
May young and old from age to age
Salute, and still point out, 'The good man's Parsonage!'
TO THE BOOK
Little Casket! Storehouse rare
Of rich conceits, to please the Fair!
Happiest he of mortal men,--
(I crown him monarch of the pen,)--
To whom Sophia deigns to give
The flattering prerogative
To inscribe his name in chief,
On thy first and maiden Leaf.
When thy pages shall be full
Of what brighter wits can cull
Of the Tender or Romantic,
Creeping Prose or Verse Gigantic,--
Which thy spaces so shall cram
That the Bee-like Epigram
(Which a two-fold tribute brings,
Honey gives at once, and stings,)
Hath not room left wherewithal
To infix its tiny scrawl;
Haply some more youthful swain,
Striving to describe his pain,
And the Damsel's ear to seize
With more expressive lays than these,
When he finds his own excluded
And these counterfeits intruded;
While, loitering in the Muse's bower,
He overstayed the eleventh hour,
Till the tables filled--shall fret,
Die, or sicken with regret
Or into a shadow pine:
While this triumphant verse of mine,
Like to some favoured stranger-guest,
Bidden to a good man's Feast
Shall sit--by merit less than fate--
In the upper Seat in State.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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