LINESTO THE REV. HENRY DUDLEY RYDER,On reading his volume, entitled "The Angelicon, a Gallery of Sonnets, on the Divine Attributes, and the Passions, the Graces, and the Virtues."Thystrains, sweet poet, have the powerTo give a solace to the mind,What time the clouds of sadness lour,—Like sighs of thine own "lyrëd wind."For when thy page I deeply trace,Where thoughts and fancies thickly throng,It brings to mind free nature's grace,Where wood-birds tune their mystic song;And pleasant streams in ways remote,Where sweetest music loves to reign;Where solitude gives birth to thought,And thought is born of thought again;Visions of earth, the pure and bright,As poet only hath divined,When high-toned genius pours her light,Upon the rapt and feeling mind.Well hast thou sung the grace and loveTh' Almighty deigns bestow on man,When seeking mercy from aboveBy His own sole appointed plan.And well, too, hast thou shown the swayThe passions have o'er mortal kind,Avarice, Ambition, Jealousy,And other turmoils of the mind.These, like the rays that burst from heaven,Shine brightly forth in verse of thine,For the proud gift to thee is given,To charm, to waken, to refine.Go on thy way, thy song must claim,From a dull world its ardent praise;With saintly Herbert's twine thy name,And bind with Herbert's verse thy lays.
On reading his volume, entitled "The Angelicon, a Gallery of Sonnets, on the Divine Attributes, and the Passions, the Graces, and the Virtues."
Thystrains, sweet poet, have the powerTo give a solace to the mind,What time the clouds of sadness lour,—Like sighs of thine own "lyrëd wind."For when thy page I deeply trace,Where thoughts and fancies thickly throng,It brings to mind free nature's grace,Where wood-birds tune their mystic song;And pleasant streams in ways remote,Where sweetest music loves to reign;Where solitude gives birth to thought,And thought is born of thought again;Visions of earth, the pure and bright,As poet only hath divined,When high-toned genius pours her light,Upon the rapt and feeling mind.Well hast thou sung the grace and loveTh' Almighty deigns bestow on man,When seeking mercy from aboveBy His own sole appointed plan.And well, too, hast thou shown the swayThe passions have o'er mortal kind,Avarice, Ambition, Jealousy,And other turmoils of the mind.These, like the rays that burst from heaven,Shine brightly forth in verse of thine,For the proud gift to thee is given,To charm, to waken, to refine.Go on thy way, thy song must claim,From a dull world its ardent praise;With saintly Herbert's twine thy name,And bind with Herbert's verse thy lays.
Thystrains, sweet poet, have the powerTo give a solace to the mind,What time the clouds of sadness lour,—Like sighs of thine own "lyrëd wind."For when thy page I deeply trace,Where thoughts and fancies thickly throng,It brings to mind free nature's grace,Where wood-birds tune their mystic song;And pleasant streams in ways remote,Where sweetest music loves to reign;Where solitude gives birth to thought,And thought is born of thought again;Visions of earth, the pure and bright,As poet only hath divined,When high-toned genius pours her light,Upon the rapt and feeling mind.Well hast thou sung the grace and loveTh' Almighty deigns bestow on man,When seeking mercy from aboveBy His own sole appointed plan.And well, too, hast thou shown the swayThe passions have o'er mortal kind,Avarice, Ambition, Jealousy,And other turmoils of the mind.These, like the rays that burst from heaven,Shine brightly forth in verse of thine,For the proud gift to thee is given,To charm, to waken, to refine.Go on thy way, thy song must claim,From a dull world its ardent praise;With saintly Herbert's twine thy name,And bind with Herbert's verse thy lays.
Thystrains, sweet poet, have the powerTo give a solace to the mind,What time the clouds of sadness lour,—Like sighs of thine own "lyrëd wind."
Thystrains, sweet poet, have the power
To give a solace to the mind,
What time the clouds of sadness lour,—
Like sighs of thine own "lyrëd wind."
For when thy page I deeply trace,Where thoughts and fancies thickly throng,It brings to mind free nature's grace,Where wood-birds tune their mystic song;
For when thy page I deeply trace,
Where thoughts and fancies thickly throng,
It brings to mind free nature's grace,
Where wood-birds tune their mystic song;
And pleasant streams in ways remote,Where sweetest music loves to reign;Where solitude gives birth to thought,And thought is born of thought again;
And pleasant streams in ways remote,
Where sweetest music loves to reign;
Where solitude gives birth to thought,
And thought is born of thought again;
Visions of earth, the pure and bright,As poet only hath divined,When high-toned genius pours her light,Upon the rapt and feeling mind.
Visions of earth, the pure and bright,
As poet only hath divined,
When high-toned genius pours her light,
Upon the rapt and feeling mind.
Well hast thou sung the grace and loveTh' Almighty deigns bestow on man,When seeking mercy from aboveBy His own sole appointed plan.
Well hast thou sung the grace and love
Th' Almighty deigns bestow on man,
When seeking mercy from above
By His own sole appointed plan.
And well, too, hast thou shown the swayThe passions have o'er mortal kind,Avarice, Ambition, Jealousy,And other turmoils of the mind.
And well, too, hast thou shown the sway
The passions have o'er mortal kind,
Avarice, Ambition, Jealousy,
And other turmoils of the mind.
These, like the rays that burst from heaven,Shine brightly forth in verse of thine,For the proud gift to thee is given,To charm, to waken, to refine.
These, like the rays that burst from heaven,
Shine brightly forth in verse of thine,
For the proud gift to thee is given,
To charm, to waken, to refine.
Go on thy way, thy song must claim,From a dull world its ardent praise;With saintly Herbert's twine thy name,And bind with Herbert's verse thy lays.
Go on thy way, thy song must claim,
From a dull world its ardent praise;
With saintly Herbert's twine thy name,
And bind with Herbert's verse thy lays.