halt 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