'Yet, showman, where can lie the cause? Shall thy implement have blame,
A boaster, that when he is tried, fails, and is put to shame?
Or is it good as others are, and be their eyes in fault?
Their eyes, or minds? or, finally, is this resplendent vault?

Or, is it rather, that conceit rapacious is and strong,
And bounty never yields so much but it seems to do her wrong?
Or is it, that when human souls a journey long have had,
And are returned into themselves, they cannot but be sad?' II. p. 88.

There are then some really sweet and amiable verses on a French lady,
separated from her own children, fondling the baby of a neighbouring
cottager;--after which we have this quintessence of unmeaningness,
entitled, 'Foresight.'

'That is work which I am rueing--
Do as Charles and I are doing!
Strawberry-blossoms, one and all,
We must spare them--here are many:
Look at it--the flower is small,
Small and low, though fair as any:
Do not touch it! Summers two
I am older, Anne, than you.
Pull the primrose, sister Anne!
Pull as many as you can.

Primroses, the spring may love them--
Summer knows but little of them:
Violets, do what they will,
Wither'd on the ground must lie:
Daisies will be daisies still;
Daisies they must live and die:
Fill your lap, and fill your bosom,
Only spare the strawberry-blossom!' II. p. 115, 116.

Afterwards come some stanzas about an echo repeating a cuckoo's voice;
here is one for a sample--

'Whence the voice? from air or earth?
_This the cuckoo cannot tell_;
But a startling sound had birth,
_As the bird must know full well_.' II. p. 123.

Then we have Elegiac stanzas 'to the Spade of a friend,' beginning--

'Spade! with which Wilkinson hath till'd his lands,'

--but too dull to be quoted any further.

After this there is a Minstrel's Song, on the Restoration of Lord
Clifford the Shepherd, which is in a very different strain of poetry;
and then the volume is wound up with an 'Ode,' with no other title but
the motto, _Paulo majora canamus_. This is, beyond all doubt, the most
illegible and unintelligible part of the publication. We can pretend to
give no analysis or explanation of it;--our readers must make what they
can of the following extracts.

'----But there's a tree, of many one,
A single field which I have look'd upon,
Both of them speak of s