ADDITIONAL ALb.u.m VERSES AND ACROSTICS

WHAT IS AN ALb.u.m?

'Tis a Book kept by modern Young Ladies for show, Of which their plain grandmothers nothing did know.

'Tis a medley of sc.r.a.ps, fine verse, and fine prose, And some things not very like either, G.o.d knows.

The soft First Effusions of Beaux and of Belles, Of future LORD BYRONS, and sweet L.E.L.'s; Where wise folk and simple both equally shine, And you write your nonsense, that I may write mine.

Stick in a fine landscape, to make a display, A flower-piece, a foreground, all tinted so gay, As NATURE herself (could she see them) would strike With envy, to think that she ne'er did the like: And since some LAVATERS, with head-pieces comical, Have p.r.o.nounc'd people's hands to be physiognomical, Be sure that you stuff it with AUTOGRAPHS plenty, All framed to a pattern, so stiff, and so dainty.

They no more resemble folks' every-day writing, Than lines penn'd with pains do extemp'rel enditing; Or the natural countenance (pardon the stricture) The faces we make when we sit for our picture.

Thus you have, dearest EMMA, an ALb.u.m complete-- Which may _you_ live to finish, and _I_ live to see it; And since you began it for innocent ends, May it swell, and grow bigger each day with new friends, Who shall set down kind names, as a token and test, As I my poor _autograph_ sign with the rest.

THE FIRST LEAF OF SPRING

_Written on the First Leaf of a Lady's Alb.u.m_

Thou fragile, filmy, gossamery thing, First leaf of spring!

At every lightest breath that quakest, And with a zephyr shakest; Scarce stout enough to hold thy slender form together, In calmest halcyon weather; Next sister to the web that spiders weave, Poor flutterers to deceive Into their treacherous silken bed: O! how art thou sustained, how nourished!

All trivial as thou art, Without dispute, Thou play'st a mighty part; And art the herald to a throng Of buds, blooms, fruit, That shall thy cracking branches sway, While birds on every spray Shall pay the copious fruitage with a sylvan song.

So 'tis with thee, whoe'er on thee shall look, First leaf of this beginning modest book.

Slender thou art, G.o.d knowest, And little grace bestowest, But in thy train shall follow after, Wit, wisdom, seriousness, in hand with laughter; Provoking jests, restraining soberness, In their appropriate dress; And I shall joy to be outdone By those who brighter trophies won; Without a grief, That I thy slender promise have begun, First leaf.

1832.

TO MRS. F[IELD]

_On Her Return from Gibraltar_

Jane, you are welcome from the barren Rock, And Calpe's sounding sh.o.r.es. Oh do not mock, Now you have rais'd, our greetings; nor again Ever revisit that dry nook of Spain.

Friends have you here, and friendships to command, In merry England. Love this hearty land.

Ease, comfort, competence--of these possess'd, Let prodigal adventurers seek the rest: Dear England is _as you_,--a _Field_ the Lord hath blest.

TO M[ARY] L[AEt.i.tIA] F[IELD]

(_Expecting to See Her Again after a Long Interval_)

How many wasting, many wasted years, Have run their round, since I beheld your face!

In Memory's dim eye it yet appears Crowned, as it _then_ seemed, with a chearful grace.

Young prattling Maiden, on the Thames' fair side, Enlivening pleasant Sunbury with your smiles, Time may have changed you: coy reserve, or pride, To sullen looks reduced those mirthful wiles.

I will not 'bate one smile on that clear brow, But take of Time a rigorous account, When next I see you; and Maria now Must _be_ the Thing she _was_. To what amount These verses else?--all hollow and untrue-- This was not writ, these lines not meant, for YOU.

TO ESTHER FIELD

Esther, holy name and sweet, Smoothly runs on even feet, To the mild Acrostic bending; Hebrew recollections blending.

Ever keep that Queen in view-- Royal namesake--bold, and true!

Firm she stood in evil times, In the face of Haman's crimes.-- Ev'n as She, do Thou possess Loftiest virtue in the dress, Dear F----, of native loveliness.

[TO MRS. WILLIAMS]

(1830)

Go little Poem, and present Respectful terms of compliment; A gentle lady bids thee speak!

Courteous is _she_, tho' thou be weak-- Evoke from Heaven as thick as manna

Joy after joy on Grace Joanna: On Fornham's Glebe and Pasture land A blessing pray. Long, long may stand, Not touched by Time, the Rectory blithe; No grudging churl dispute his t.i.the; At Easter be the offerings due

With cheerful spirit paid; each pew In decent order filled; no noise Loud intervene to drown the voice, Learning, or wisdom of the Teacher; Impressive be the Sacred Preacher, And strict his notes on holy page; May young and old from age to age Salute, and still point out, 'The good man's Parsonage!'

TO THE BOOK

Little Casket! Storehouse rare Of rich conceits, to please the Fair!

Happiest he of mortal men,-- (I crown him monarch of the pen,)-- To whom Sophia deigns to give The flattering prerogative To inscribe his name in chief, On thy first and maiden Leaf.

When thy pages shall be full Of what brighter wits can cull Of the Tender or Romantic, Creeping Prose or Verse Gigantic,-- Which thy s.p.a.ces so shall cram That the Bee-like Epigram (Which a two-fold tribute brings, Honey gives at once, and stings,) Hath not room left wherewithal To infix its tiny scrawl; Haply some more youthful swain, Striving to describe his pain, And the Damsel's ear to seize With more expressive lays than these, When he finds his own excluded And these counterfeits intruded; While, loitering in the Muse's bower, He overstayed the eleventh hour, Till the tables filled--shall fret, Die, or sicken with regret Or into a shadow pine: While this triumphant verse of mine, Like to some favoured stranger-guest, Bidden to a good man's Feast Shall sit--by merit less than fate-- In the upper Seat in State.

TO S[OPHIA] F[REND]

_Acrostic_

Solemn Legends we are told Of bright female Names of old, Phyllus fair, Laodameia, Helen, but methinks Sophia Is a name of better meaning And a sort of Christian leaning.