CONTENTS.

ISABELLA, OR THE POT OF BASIL; A STORY FROM BOC-

PAGE

25

43

77

"I STOOD TIPTOE UPON A LITTLE HILL

SPECIMEN OF AN INDUCTION TO A POEM

ib.

85

.

CALIDORE: A FRAGMENT

TO SOME LADIES, ON RECEIVING A CURIOUS SHELL

ON RECEIVING A COPY OF VERSES FROM THE SAME LADIES

ΤΟ

TO HOPE

IMITATION OF SPENSER

100

"WOMAN! WHEN I BEHOLD THEE FLIPPANT, VAIN

PAGE

O SOLITUDE! IF I MUST WITH THEE DWELL"

66 HOW MANY BARDS GILD THE LAPSES OF TIME!"

TO A FRIEND WHO SENT ME SOME ROSES

TO G. A. W. .

WRITTEN ON THE DAY THAT MR. LEIGH HUNT LEFT PRISON

TO MY BROTHERS

ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S HOMER

ib

137

ib.

ON LEAVING SOME FRIENDS AT AN EARLY HOUR

138

66 KEEN FITFUL GUSTS ARE WHISPERING HERE AND THERE

"TO ONE WHO HAS BEEN LONG IN CITY PENT

ISABELLA.

I.

FAIR Isabel, poor simple Isabel!

Lorenzo, a young palmer in Love's eye! They could not in the self-same mansion dwell Without some stir of heart, some malady; They could not sit at meals but feel how well It soothed each to be the other by ;

They could not, sure, beneath the same roof sleep, But to each other dream, and nightly weep.

II.

With every morn their love grew tenderer,
With every eve deeper and tenderer still;
He might not in house, field, or garden stir,
But her full shape would all his seeing fill;
And his continual voice was pleasanter

To her, than noise of trees or hidden rill;
Her lutestring gave an echo of his name,
She spoilt her half-done broidery with the same.