TO MRS. SARAH ROBINSON

Soul-breathing verse, thy gentlest guise put on
And greet the honor’d name of Robinson. 
Rome in her throng’d and stranger-crowded streets,
And palaces, where pilgrim pilgrim meets,
Holds not, respected Sarah, one that can
Revered make the name of Englishman,
Or loved, more than thy Kinsman, dear to me
By many a friendly act.  His heart I see
In thee with answering courtesy renew’d. 
Nor shall to thee my debt of gratitude
Soon fade, that didst receive with open hand
One that was come a stranger to thy land—­
Now call[s] thee Friend.  Her thanks, and mine, command.

Enfield, 14_th March_, 1831.

TO SARAH [APSEY]

Acrostic

Sarah,—­your other name I know not,
And fine encomiums I bestow not,
Regard me as an utter stranger,
A hair-brain’d, hasty, album-ranger,
Heaven shield you, Girl, from every danger!

TO JOSEPH VALE ASBURY

Acrostic

Judgements are about us thoroughly;
O’er all Enfield hangs the Cholera,
Savage monster, none like him
Ever rack’d a human limb. 
Pest, nor plague, nor fever yellow,
Has made patients more to bellow.

Vain his threatnings!  Asbury comes,
And defiance beats by drums;
Label, bottle, box, pill, potion,
Each enlists in the commotion.

          And with Vials, like to those
          Seen in Patmos[18], charged with woes,
          Breathing Wrath, he falls pell-mell
          Upon the Foe, and pays him well. 
          Revenge!—­he has made the monster sick
          Yea, Cholera vanish, choleric.

[Footnote 18:  Vide Revelations.]

TO D[OROTHY] A[SBURY]

Acrostic

Divided praise, Lady, to you we owe,
Of all the health your husband doth bestow,
Respected wife of skilful Asbury! 
Oracular foresight named thee Dorothy;
Tis a Greek word, and signifies God’s Gift;
(How Learning helps poor Poets at a shift!)—­
You are that gift.  When, tired with human ails,

And tedious listening to the sick man’s tales,
Sore spent, and fretted, he comes home at eve,
By mild medicaments you his toils deceive. 
Under your soothing treatment he revives;
(Restorative is the smile of gentle wives): 
You lengthen his, who lengthens all our lives.

TO LOUISA MORGAN

How blest is he who in his age, exempt
From fortune’s frowns, and from the troublous strife
Of storms that harass still the private life,
“Below ambition, and above contempt,”
Hath gain’d a quiet harbour, where he may
Look back on shipwrecks past, without a sigh
For busier scenes, and hope’s gay dreams