ng language for't, and I
Can only bless it!

II

But stop, rash verse! and don't abuse
A bashful Maiden's ear with news
Of her own virtues. She'll refuse
Praise sung so loudly.
Of that same goodness, you admire,
The best part is, she don't aspire
To praise--nor of herself desire
To think too proudly.

IN THE ALBUM OF A VERY YOUNG LADY

(? 1830)

Joy to unknown Josepha who, I hear,
Of all good gifts, to Music most is given;
Science divine, which through the enraptured ear
Enchants the Soul, and lifts it nearer Heaven.
Parental smiles approvingly attend
Her pliant conduct of the trembling keys,
And listening strangers their glad suffrage lend.
Most musical is Nature. Birds--and Bees
At their sweet labour--sing. The moaning winds
Rehearse a _lesson_ to attentive minds.
In louder tones "Deep unto Deep doth call;"
And there is Music in the Waterfall.

IN THE ALBUM OF A FRENCH TEACHER (? 1829)

Implored for verse, I send you what I can;
But you are so exact a Frenchwoman,
As I am told, Jemima, that I fear
To wound with English your Parisian ear,
And think I do your choice collection wrong
With lines not written in the Frenchman's tongue.
Had I a knowledge equal to my will,
With airy _Chansons_ I your leaves would fill;
With _Fabliaux_, that should emulate the vein
Of sprightly Cresset, or of La Fontaine;
Or _Scenes Comiques_, that should approach the air
Of your own favourite--renowned Moliere.
But at my suit the Muse of France looks sour,
And strikes me dumb! Yet, what is in my power
To testify respect for you, I pray,
Take in plain English--our rough Enfield way.

IN THE ALBUM OF MISS DAUBENY

I

Some poets by poetic law
Have Beauties praised, they never saw;
And sung of Kittys, and of Nancys,
Whose charms but lived in their own fancies.
So I, to keep my Muse a going,
That willingly would still be doing,
A Canzonet or two must try
In praise of--_pretty_ Daubeny.

II

But whether she indeed be comely,