DAVID GARRICK, Esq.

SIR,

IT

is fcarcely poffible that any one fhould entertain a more humble opinion of the following little Production, than she who prefents it to you. It is a trifle which, the confeffes, has but a very flender claim to your protection; but the confiders that your Name will be an ornament to her Book, as your Friendship has been an honour to its Author.

Where merit is inconteftible, and characters are decided by the concurring fuffrage of mankind, praise becomes almost impertinent. It is abfurd to be induftrious in proving truths fo felf-evident, that no one ever thought of controverting them.

I may be accused of advancing a startling propofition, when I declare that you are an enemy to the Mufes; but if it be allowed that defcription and invention are the very foul of Poetry I shall be juftified by the world

L

in general, who constantly behold you display. ing talents which cannot be defcribed, and exhibiting excellences which leave nothing to be imagined.

Whatever reason I may find to regret my having ventured these little Poems into the world, 1 fhall at least have no common pleafure in recollecting one circumftance attending them, fince they furnish me with an occafion of affuring you with what esteem and admiration

I am, SIR,

Your most obedient,

and very humble Servant,

HANNAH MORE.

BRISTOL, Dec. 14. 1775.

xxxxx

SIR ELDRED OF THE BOWER,

A

LEGENDARY TALE.

PART I.

O noftra Vita. ch'e fi bella in vifta!
Com' perde agevolmente in un momento,

Quel ch'en molt' anni a grand penas' acquista!

PETRAR ca.

HERE was a young and valiant Knight,

THE

SIR ELDRED was his name,

And never did a worthier wight

The rank of knighthood claim.

Where gliding Tay her ftream fends forth,
To feed the neighbouring wood,
The ancient glory of the North,

SIR ELDRED's caftle ftood.

The youth was rich as youth might be
In patrimonial dower;

And many a noble feat had he
Atchieved, in hall, and bower.

He did not think, as fome have thought,
Whom honour never crown'd,
The fame a father dearly bought,
Cou'd make the fon renown'd.

He better thought, a noble fire,
Who gallant deeds had done,
To deeds of hardihood fhou'd fire
A brave and gallant fon.

The fairest ancestry on earth
Without defert is poor;
And every deed of lofty worth
Is but a claim for more.

Sir ELDRED's heart was good and kind
Alive to Pity's call;

A crowd of virtues grac'd his mind,
He lov'd, and felt for all.

When merit raised the fufferer's name,

He shower'd his bounty then; And those who could not prove that claim, He fuccour'd still as men.

But facred truth the Mufe compels
His errors to impart ;

And yet the Mufe reluctant tells
The fault of ELDRED's heart:

Tho' kind and gentle as the dove,
As free from guile and art,
And mild, and foft as infant love
The feelings of his heart.

Yet if the paffions ftorm'd his foul,

By jealoufy led on;

The whirlwind rage difdain'd controul,
And bore his virtues down.

Not Thule's waves fo wildly break.
To drown the northern fhore;
Nor Etna's entrails fiercer fhake;
Or Scythia's tempefts roar.

As when on fummer's fweeteft day,
To fan the fragrant morn.
The fighing breezes foftly ftray
O'er fields of ripen'd corn;

Sudden the lightning's blast defcends,
Deforms the ravag'd fields;
At once the various ruin blends,
And all refiftlefs yields.

But when, to clear his ftormy breast,
The fun of reafon fhone,

And ebbing paffions funk to reft,
And fhew'd what rage had done.

'

O then what anguifh he betray'd!
His fhame how deep, how true!
He view'd the wafte his rage
had made,
And fhudder'd at the view.

The meek-ey'd dawn, in faffron robe,
Proclaim'd the opening day.

Up rofe the fun to gild the globe,
And hail the new-born May ;

The birds their vernal notes repeat,
And glad the thick'ning grove,
And feather'd partners fondly greet
With many a fong of love;

When pious ELDRED walk'd abroad
His morning vows to pay,
And hall the universal Lord
gave the goodly day.

Who