Dear is the Hour,

Penshurst,

It is not the Tear at this moment shed,

Inscription for a Column at Newberry,

a Cavern that o'erlooks

the River Avon

Southey,

Monument at Silbury-Hill, Ibid,

Remembrance,

Come rest in this bosom,

Lines to commemorate the 21st of

Wordsworth, 98

Written while sailing in a Boat at evening Wordsworth, 107

The Cast away Ship,

The Sequel to ditto.

On receiving a branch of Mezereon,

Sonnet on the approach of Death,

Lines on the Death of Sheridan,

Frederic,

A sketch from Private Life,

On the lifting of the Banner of the

House of Buccleuch,

Walter Scott, 141

Ibid.

141

Oh thou who Dry'st the Mourner's Tear, T. Moore,

The Pilgrimage

OF

LIVING POETS to the STREAM of CASTALY.

Who now shall give unto me words and sounds

Equal unto this haughty enterprize.

Spenser B. 2. C. x.

SIR,

I am one of those unfortunate youths to whom the Muse has glanced a sparkling of her light, one of those who pant for distinction but have not within them that immortal power which alone can command it. There are many, some Sir may be known to you, who feel keenly and earnestly the eloquence of heart and mind in others, but who cannot from some inability or unobtrusiveness clearly express their own thoughts and feelings; whose lives are but long and silent dreams of romantic pleasure and poetic wonderment; who almost adore the matchless fancies of genuine bards and love them as interpreters and guardians of those visionary delights which are the perpetual inmates of their bosoms. I know not whether I