Sir John Carr Poems

Reader! since Parson Sleep is gone,
And lies beneath yon humble stone,
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How fairly Fortune all her gifts imparts;
We win your money, Ann, and you our hearts.
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Say, lovely Charlotte! will you let me prove
What diff'rent thoughts thy taste and beauty move?
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Still Summer lingers on these peaceful shores,
Nor yet she quits her rose-ere ...
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Tell me, thou grotto! o'er whose brow are seen
Projecting plumes, and shades of deep'ning green,-
While not a sound disturbs thy stony hall,
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Ah! if my voice is heard in vain,
This fond, this falling, tear
May yet thy dire intent restrain,
May yet dissolve my fear.
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A wreath from an immortal bough
Should deck that gen'rous victor's brow,
Who hears his captive's grateful praise
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Wilt thou, because thy Florio loves,
Forsake the giddy glitt'ring throng,
With him to dwell in peaceful groves,
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The leaves are flutter'd by no tell-tale gales,
Clear melts the azure in the rosy west,
Scarce heard, the river winds along the vales,
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Ah! hapless stranger! who, without a tear,
Can this sad record of thy fate survey?
...