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obvious objection, that the religion of Hindostan is not generally known enough to supply fit machinery for an English poem, I can only answer, that, if every allusion to it throughout the work is not sufficiently selfexplained to render the passage intelligible, there is a want of skill in the poet. Even those readers who should be wholly unacquainted with the writings of our learned Orientalists, will find all the preliminary knowledge that can be needful, in the brief explanation of mythological names prefixed to the Poem.

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ΤΟ

EDITH SOUTHEY.

EDITH! I brought thee late a humble gift,
The songs of earlier youth; it was a wreath
With many an unripe blossom garlanded

And many a weed, yet mingled with some flowers
Which will not wither. Dearest! now I bring
A worthier offering; thou wilt prize it well,
For well thou know'st amid what painful cares

My solace was in this: and tho' to me

There is no music in the hollowness

Of common praise, yet well content am I

Now to look back upon my youth's green prime,

Nor idly, nor unprofitably past,

Imping in such adventurous essay

The wing, and strengthening it for steadier flight.

VOL. I.

a

1797.

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