re,
The breast which now inflicts, would spring to cure.--
No more deserted genius then, would fly
To breathe in solitude his hopeless sigh;
No more would Fortune's partial smile debase
The spirit, rich in intellectual grace;
Who views unmov'd from scenes where pleasures bloom,
The flame of genius sunk in mis'ry's gloom;
The soul heav'n form'd to soar, by want deprest,
Nor heeds the wrongs that pierce a kindred breast.--
Thou righteous Law! whose clear and useful light
Sheds on the mind a ray divinely bright;
Condensing in one rule whate'er the sage
Has proudly taught, in many a labour'd page;
Bid every heart thy hallow'd voice revere,
To justice sacred, and to nature dear!

END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

POEMS,

BY

HELEN MARIA WILLIAMS.

IN TWO VOLUMES.

VOL. II.

CONTENTS

OF THE

SECOND VOLUME.

An Epistle to Dr. Moore, Author of a View of Society and Manners in
France, Switzerland, and Germany.

Part of an irregular Fragment, found in a Dark Passage of the Tower.

Peru.

Sonnet to Mrs. Siddons.

Queen Mary's Complaint.

Euphelia, an Elegy.

Sonnet to Expression.

AN
EPISTLE
TO
DR. MOORE.

Whether dispensing hope, and ease
To the pale victim of disease,
Or in the social crowd you sit,
And charm the group with sense and wit,
Moore's partial ear will not disdain
Attention to my artless strain.

AN
EPISTLE
TO
DR. MOORE,

AUTHOR OF

A VIEW OF SOCIETY AND MANNERS
IN
FRANCE, SWITZERLAND, AND GERMANY.

I mean no giddy heights to climb,
And vainly toil to be sublime;
While every line with labour wrought,
Is swell'd with tropes for want of thought:
Nor shall I call the Muse to shed
Castalian drops upon my head;
Or send me from Parnassian bowers
A chaplet wove of fancy's flowers.
At present all such aid I slight--
My heart instructs me how to write.

That softer glide my hours along,
That still my griefs are sooth'd by song,
That still my careless numbers flow
To your successful skill I owe;
You, who when sickness o'er me hung,
And languor had my lyre unstrung,
With treasures of the healing art,
With friendship's ardor at your heart,
From sickness snatch'd her early prey
And bade fair health--the goddess gay,
With sprightly air, and winning grace,
With laughing eye, and rosy face,
Accustom'd when you call to hear,
On her light pinion hasten near,
And swift restore with influence kind,
My weaken'd frame, my drooping mind.

With l