[Another of Lady Hawarden's daughters from the 1860s]

Yon cot holds all thats dear to me
From whence the breeze is blowing
Where still my heart must prisner be
Where every wish is going
Coud she love me as I love her
Enough of bliss wer given
A fair to equal I aver
Woud but be found in heaven

Id fain be of black arts possest
A magic proof to find
To lay unbare her ivory breast
& know its tenants mind
As I love her coud she love me
Enough of bliss wer given
An earthly immortality
Id want no more of heaven

EP II 499
Pet MS A16 p6 (pencil)

A Character

[Image: An early photo (1860) by Clementina Lady Hawarden of one of her daughters]

Patty or is it Betty Sell?

Her hair bound in tortoise or else loosley flowing
(Lo each is a beautiful show)
More blacker than jet the fine ringlets seem glowing
Nay they rival the Micaelmas sloe.

Her face cloth'd in blushes like the east in a morning
Sheds a lustre so healthful and gay
And O! her sweet neck is with Cupids adorning
More whiter than blossoms of May.

Her beautiful bosom with love sweetly swelling
Whould make e'en a Hermit to long
And O! of her eyes and her lips theres no telling
They'r out o' the reach of my song.

Her height with the rest in exactest propotion
Nought defective throughout can be seen
And her fine limbs conceal'd will oft show their sweet motion
When met by the wind on the green.

Tho her form is so charmingly fine tall and slender
It does not outrival her mind,
She's equaly Modest Obliging and Tender
That she seems for an angel designd.

She also is Witty and quick in descerning,
Nor a stranger to Helicon's spring,
She's an able proficient in all sorts of Learning,
To Draw or to Write or to sing.

O! Cupid since thou with thy Bow fast pursuing
Made an Arrow flie twang thro my heart
Give me but this Maid I'll ne'er mourn the subduing,
But bless the good aim of thy dart.

Pet MS C1 13; 1 36; 4 86

Solitude (II) final part


‘& this vain world its pride its form
   ‘That treads on thee as on a worm
   ‘Its mighty heirs—the time shall be
   ‘When they as quiet sleep by thee’
   O heres thy comforts solitude
   When overpowering woes intrude
   Then thy sad thy solemn dress
   Owns the balm my soul to bless
   Here I judge the world aright
    Here see vain man in his own light
    Learn patience in this trying hour
    To gild lifes brambles wi a flower
    Take pattern from the hints thoust given
    & follow in thy steps to heaven

Solitude (II) part 5


So leave wi silent long farwell
    Vain life—as left the snail his shell
    All this when there my eyes behold
    On every stone & heap of mould
    Solitude & thou art sweet
    Somthing solemn tho to meet
    When wi listning pause I look
    Round the pillars ruind nook
    Glooms revealing dim descryd
    Ghosts companiond by thy side
    Where in old deformity
    Ancient arches sweepeth high
    & the storms the painted pane
    Growls in angry mood again

Solitude (II) part 4

    While worms like me are mouldering laid
    Wi nothing set to say theyre dead
    All the difference trifling thing
    That notes at last the slave & king
    As witherd leaves lifes bloom was stopt
    That drops in autumn so they dropt
    As snails wi in their painted shell
    So snugly once was known to dwell
    When in the schoolboys care we view
    The pleasing toys of varied hue
    By age or accident theyre flown
    An empty shell & tenant gone
    So pass we from the worlds affairs
    & carless vanish from its cares

Solitude (II) part 3

    Turning there the nettles bye
    Where the grave stone meets ones eye
    Soon full soon to read & see
    That all below is vanity
    & man to me a gauling thing
    Ownd creations lord & king
    A minutes length a zephers breath
    Sport of fate & prey of death

    Neath the power of death the same
    As wants low wormlings are to him
    Tyrant to day to morrow gone
    All 'stinguished only by a stone
    That feign woud have the eye to know
    Prides better dust is laid below

Solitude (II) part 2

    Dizzy nauntling high & proud
    Top stone loosing in a cloud
    Where the cross to time resignd
    Creaking harshly in the wind
    Crowning high the rifted dome
    Points the pilgrims wisht for home
    While the look fear turns away
    Shuddering at its dread decay
    Then let me my peace pursue
    Neath the shades of gloomy yew
    Dolfull hung wi mourning green
    Suiting well the solemn scene

    There as I may learn to scan
    Mites illustrious called man