Sir John Carr Poems

Dearer to me, thou pile of dust!
Tho' with the wild flow'r simply crown'd,
Than the vast dome or beauteous bust,
...

No gentleman of England now sits at home at ease,
But emulates on shore the heroes of the seas;
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Emma! 'tis early time for thee
To hear the sounds of minstrelsy,
That breathe around the rosy shrine
Of honest old Saint Valentine.
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Think not, thou pride of Summer's softest strain!
Sweet dress of Nature, in her virgin bloom!
That thou hast flutter'd to the breeze in vain,
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Time, since thou gav'st this flow'r to me,
Has often turn'd his glass of sand;
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My poor heart flutters like the sea
Now heaving on the sandy shore;
It seems to tell me you shall be
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THE FAVOURITE RETREAT OF DELIA.

Streams ever limpid, fresh, and clear,
Where Delia's charms renew'd appear,
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'Tis pity, ev'ry maiden knows,
Just as she cools, Love warmer grows;
But, if the chill be too severe,
Trust me, he'll wither in a tear.
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To my Muse give attention, and deem it not a mystery
If I jumble up together music, poetry, and history,
...

Rebecca was the fairest maid
That on the Danube's borders play'd;
And many a handsome nobleman
For her in tilt and tourney ran;
...