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116
HOURS OF IDLENESS.

Whose downcast eye disdains the wanton leer,
Firm in her virtue's strength, yet not severe;
She, whom a conscious grace shall thus refine,
Will ne'er be "tainted" by a strain of mine.
But, for the nymph whose premature desires
Torment her bosom with unholy fires,
No net to snare her willing heart is spread;
She would have fallen, though she ne'er had read.
For me, I fain would please the chosen few,
Whose souls, to feeling and to nature true,
Will spare the childish verse, and not destroy
The light effusions of a heedless boy.[1]
I seek not glory from the senseless crowd;
Of fancied laurels, I shall ne'er be proud;
Their warmest plaudits I would scarcely prize,
Their sneers or censures, I alike despise.

November 26, 1806.


ELEGY ON NEWSTEAD ABBEY.[2]

"It is the voice of years, that are gone! they roll before me, with all their deeds."—Ossian.[3]

1.

Newstead! fast-falling, once-resplendent dome!

Religion's shrine! repentant Henry's[4] pride!
  1. The light effusions of an amorous boy.—[P. on V. Occasions.]
  2. As one poem on this subject is already printed, the author had, originally, no intention of inserting the following. It is now added at the particular request of some friends.
  3. Hours of Idleness.
  4. Henry II. founded Newstead soon after the murder of Thomas à Becket.