Poems

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by Sir John Carr
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Title: Poems
Author: Sir John Carr
Release Date: December 2, 2003 [EBook #10367]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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POEMS,
BY
SIR JOHN CARR.
Non ulla Musis pagina gratior,
Quam quae severis ludicra jungere

Novit, fatigatamque nugis
Utilibus recreare mentem.
1809.
POEMS.
DEDICATION.
TO
LADY WARREN,

&c. &c. &c.
MADAM,
In dedicating the following Poems to your Ladyship, I cannot help
regretting that they are not more worthy of such an honour; that I might
consequently have used it as an humble mode of expressing my sense
of the happy and enlightened hours which I have passed in your
Ladyship's society, and of the polite attentions which I have at various
times received from you, and the gallant object of your connubial
affection, particularly at the House of British Embassy at Petersburgh,
where you afforded to the Ladies of the North a just representation of
the dignified virtue, cultivated mind, and attractive beauty, of the
higher order of females of your own country.
I have the honour to remain,
Madam,
Your Ladyship's
Obedient faithful Servant,
JOHN CARR.
Temple. June 1809
PREFACE.
This Volume is submitted to the Public with all that diffidence which
ought to attend the publication of Verses, many of which were written
in the gay and happy era of boyhood, and others in subsequent periods
of maturer life, as a relief from more arduous pursuits.
They lay no pretensions to the depth and solidity of the effusions of the
Muse in her elevated flights; they are the few wild notes of the simple
shepherd, and do not even affect to imitate the rich cadence of the
scientific musician.

If the Author might, without the imputation of vanity, select for them a
place in the Temple of Poetry, he would endeavour to class them in that
niche which is appropriated for the reception of the light and playful
_Vers de Societé_.
Should the Reader find them but little worthy of his approval, he will
not have reason at the same time to condemn their prolixity: their
brevity will, at least in some degree, atone for their want of fire and
fancy.
It is thought proper to state that some of the following Poems have
appeared before at various times, in a fugitive shape; and that the
Poetry in the Author's Tours is here collected.
POEMS,
&c. &c.
VERSES
WRITTEN IN A GROTTO
In a Wood on the Side of the River Dart,
IN DEVONSHIRE.
Tell me, thou grotto! o'er whose brow are seen
Projecting plumes,
and shades of deep'ning green,--
While not a sound disturbs thy stony
hall,
While all thy dewy drops forget to fall,--
Why canst thou not
thy soothing charms impart,
And shed thy quiet o'er this beating heart?

Tell me, thou richly-painted river! tell,
That on thy mirror'd plane
dost mimic well
Each pendent tree and every distant hill,
Tipp'd
with red lustre, beauteous, bright, and still,--
Can I not, gazing on thy tranquil tide,
Shed ev'ry grief upon thy rocky
side?
Or must I rove thy margin, calm and clear,
The only agitated
object near?
Oh! tell me, too, thou babbling cold cascade!
Whose

waters, falling thro' successive shade,
Unspangled by the brightness
of the sky,
Awake each echo to a soft reply,--
Say, canst thou not
my bosom-grief befriend,
And bid one drop upon my heart descend?

When all thy songsters soothe themselves to sleep.
Ah! must these
aching eyes for ever weep?
And must their frequent waters, like thine
own,
Drop, idly drop, on unimpressive stone?
Or, when my
beauteous fair shall deign to grace
The humid foliage of thy mossy
base,
Canst thou not tell how many a rock below
Impedes to kiss
thy waters as they flow?
In her mind canst thou not the feeling rear

To stop, or thus caress, each genuine tear?
Teach her, oh! teach her, then, thou cold cascade!
Pour all thy lessons
for the lovely maid!
And thou, bless'd grotto! let thy silence prove

Her mute consenting answer to my love!
And thou, bright river! as
thou roll'st along,
Bear on thy wand'ring wave a lover's song!

Strong as thy current, as thy waters pure,
Teach her to feel the
passion I endure!
LINES TO THE MEMORY OF MY DEAR BROTHER,
W.T.P. CARR, ESQ.
--manibus date lilia plenis:
Purpureos spargam flores.
Aeneid, lib. vi.
Tho' no funereal grandeur swell my song,
Nor genius, eagle-plum'd,
the strain prolong,--
Tho' Grief and Nature here alone combine
To
weep, my William! o'er a fate like thine,--
Yet thy fond pray'r, still
ling'ring on my ear,
Shall force its way thro' many a gushing tear:

The Muse, that saw