Here ends Tale: for in a trice

my

Arrived a neighbour with his horse; Peter went forth with him straightway; And, with due care, ere break of day Together they brought back the Corse.

And many years did this poor Ass,
Whom once it was my luck to see
Cropping the shrubs of Leming-Lane,
Help by his labour to maintain
The Widow and her family.

And Peter Bell, who, till that night, Had been the wildest of his clan, Forsook his crimes, repressed his folly, And, after ten months' melancholy, Became a good and honest man.

MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS.

PART FIRST.

SONNETS.

I.

ΤΟ

HAPPY the feeling from the bosom thrown
In perfect shape whose beauty Time shall spare
Though a breath made it, like a bubble blown
For summer pastime into wanton air;

Happy the thought best likened to a stone

Of the sea-beach, when, polished with nice care, Veins it discovers exquisite and rare,

Which for the loss of that moist gleam atone

That tempted first to gather it. O chief

Of Friends! such feelings if I here present,

Such thoughts, with others mixed less fortunate;

Then smile into my heart a fond belief

That Thou, if not with partial joy elate,

Receiv'st the gift for more than mild content!