Poetic Sketches   By: Thomas Gent (1780-)

A

COLLECTION

OF

MISCELLANEOUS POETRY.

BY

THOMAS GENT.

THE SECOND EDITION.

"In mercy spare me when I do my best, To make as much waste paper as the rest."

1808.

TO

THE RIGHT HONORABLE

GEORGE CANNING, M.P.

SECRETARY OF STATE FOR THE FOREIGN DEPARTMENT,

and

ONE OF HIS MAJESTY'S MOST HONORABLE PRIVY COUNCIL;

NOT LESS DISTINGUISHED FOR HIS ATTAINMENTS AS

A SCHOLAR,

THAN FOR HIS TALENTS AS

A STATESMAN

THESE POETIC SKETCHES

ARE INSCRIBED,

WITH MUCH SINCERITY AND ESTEEM,

BY HIS FAITHFUL AND DEVOTED

HUMBLE SERVANT,

THE AUTHOR.

CONTENTS

The pieces marked thus () have been added since the first edition.

To the Reviewers

On the Death of Lord Nelson

SONNET Morning

To . An Impromtu

SONNET Night

Henry and Eliza

SONNET On the Death of Mrs. Charlotte Smith

To a Fly on the Bosom of Chloe, while sleeping

SONNET

Lines, written on the sixth of September

SONNET To Faith

Stanzas

SONNET To Hope

Thoughts on Peace

SONNET To Charity

Prologue to Public Readings

SONNET The Beggar

To . Come, Jenny, let me sip the dew

The Runaway

Song The Blue eyed Maid

Bertram and Anna

Invocation to Sleep

SONNET To Music

0! Nymph with cheeks of roseate hue

On the Death of General Washington

Song Oh! never will I leave my love

Burlesque SONNET To a Bee

Mary

SONNET To Lydia, on her Birth Day

Stanzas, written Impromtu on the late Peace

SONNET To on her Recovery from Illness

A Fragment

Lines, to the Memory of a Lady

The Recall of the Hero

Lines, written on seeing the Children of the Naval Asylum

Rosa's Grave

Lines, written in Hornsey Wood

SONNET To

The Complaint

SONNET

Reflections of a Poet, on being invited to a great Dinner

SONNET On seeing a Young Lady confined in a Madhouse

To Thaddeus

SONNET To a Lyre

Address to Albion

SONNET On the Death of Toussaint L'Ouverture

Epitaph On Matilda

SONNET To Peace

Love

SONNET In the Manner of the Moderns

Lines, delivered at a Young Ladies' Boarding School

On the Death of Sir Ralph Abercrombie

To

SONNET To Melancholy

Prometheus

To my Readers [This section may no longer exist.]

TO THE REVIEWERS.

Oh, ye! enthron'd in presidential awe, To give the song smit generation law; Who wield Apollo's delegated rod, And shake Parnassus with your sovereign nod; A pensive Pilgrim, worn with base turmoils, Plebian cares, and mercenary toils, Implores your pity, while with footsteps rude, He dares within the mountain's pale intrude; For, oh! enchantment through its empire dwells, And rules the spirit with Lethëan spells; By hands unseen aërial harps are hung, And Spring, like Hebe, ever fair and young, On her broad bosom rears the laughing loves, And breathes bland incense through the warbling groves; Spontaneous, bids unfading blossoms blow. And nectar'd streams mellifluously flow. There, while the Muses, wanton, unconfin'd, And wreaths resplendent round their temples bind, 'Tis yours, to strew their steps with votive flowers; To watch them slumbering midst the blissful bowers; To guard the shades that hide their sacred charms; And shield their beauties from unhallow'd arms! Oh! may their suppliant steal a passing kiss? Alas! he pants not for superior bliss; Thrice bless'd, his virgin modesty shall be To snatch an evanescent ecstacy! The fierce extremes of superhuman love, For his frail sense too exquisite might prove; He turns, all blushing, from th'Aönian shade To humbler raptures, with a mortal maid.