To fancy how bright are the days that are flown, O'er them what illusions remembrance has thrown, Oh mem'ry! thy magic beguilements give o'er, She tells me of those time nor place can restore, Ah! where are the friends that made childhood so blest, Do they still in Ipswich remain ? Ah no! they are gone to the mansions of rest, Yet dear to my heart are the friends that are left, Of those that are gone, though now I am bereft, LINES WRITTEN AT SOUTHWOLD, OCTOBER, 1809. Southwold is pleasantly situated on a cliff or point of land, near a fine bay, at the mouth of the river Blythe, which here discharges itself into the sea. The church, dedicated to St. Edmund, is supposed to have been finished about 1460, and is a very fine fabric. Its total length is 143 feet 6 inches, and its width 56 feet 2 inches. It has two aisles, which are separated from the nave by seven arches, and six pillars of elegant workmanship. The tower, about 100 feet in height, is a fine piece of architecture, beautified with freestone, intermixed with flint of various colours. The porch is highly ornamented: over the entrance is a vacant niche, which is decorated in various parts with gothic letters, similar to those of the inscription upon the arch over the great west window of the tower: SAT. EDMUND. ÖRA. P. NOBIS. Every letter is surmounted by a crown. The north door has a niche on either side, with a figure on each, resembling an angel with prodigious wings in a kind of pulpit, and the hands joined as if in the attitude of prayer. The pillars, supporting these niches, rise from grotesque heads. The mouldings between the receding arches of all the doors are ornamented with foliage, flowers, grotesque heads and figures; as is also the fillet that runs round the body of the church above the windows. The interior of this edifice still indicates that it was yet more highly ornamented than the exterior. The carved work of the rood-loft, and the seats of the magistrates, now somewhat defaced, originally bore a great resemblance to those in Henry VIIth's chapel at Westminster. Every pew was likewise decorated with figures of birds, beasts, satyrs, &c. The ceiling of the chancel is handsomely painted, as is likewise that over the skreen in the nave. As the beach here partakes of the advantages enjoyed by other towns on this coast for sea-bathing, it has of late years derived considerable advantage from the visitors, who resort thither during the summer season for that purpose, and for whose accommodation two convenient machines are kept in the town. It has been remarked, that at this town in particular, as at all the places on this coast, the swallows commonly first land on their arrival in England, and hence also they take their departure on their return to warmer climates. Both the church and town have been frequently engraved. SOUTHWOLD, all hail! peace to thy billowy shore; Still may thy sons, an active gen'rous train, Southwold shall rise to memory ever dear, HAVERHILL, BY MR. JOHN WEBB. The following lines are extracted from a beautifully descriptive poem, entitled "Haverhill by John Webb, 1810," 12mo; a poem, in which the author has infused a considerable portion of the spirit and pathos, which so strongly characterize the "Deserted Village." Mr. Webb is a native of Haverhill, and has added another name to the respectable list of those poets, who have not been indebted to education, and are usually, although very improperly, called "self taught poets.' In the preface to his poem he informs his readers that, "born in the vale of obscurity, he never experienced any of the benefits that result from education: his days have been spent in scenes of honest industry, and "his leisure intervals devoted to amusive and instruc"tive studies: "To him 'twas giv'n-whom Fortune lov'd to lead "Through humble toils, to life's sequester'd bow'rs— WHITEHEAD, Though he is conscious that these humble essays "at poetry will, like the sensitive plant, shrink from "the touch of criticism, yet he fondly hopes that it will "tend to smooth the critic's rugged brow, to be inform"ed that they were written while the author moved in "the humble sphere of a journeyman weaver.” The beauties of his native place the author appears to have viewed with a picturesque eye, and to have described with a poetic spirit. In his descriptions of artificial life and manners, and in his delineations of local characters, he is equally as just and as successful, as in his paintings of natural objects and of rustic scenery. His poetry is generally of the pensive cast, but every where gives a most favorable idea of his taste and his reflection; of one, who has had the wisdom to employ his talent without the extravagant aberrations which would interrupt the business of life, and the exercise of honest industry. The whole impression of the poem has been long sold; and as its intrinsic excellence so well merits a more general and extensive circulation, it is to be hoped that Mr. Webb will feel disposed to favor the public with a second edition, ENLARGED. HAIL! Haverhill,* hail! a Muse, who knows no rules, Unskill'd in language, and untaught in schools; Haverhill is a small market town, with a manufacture of checks, cottons, and fustians. The principal street, which is partly in this county, and partly in Essex, is long and wide, but the houses in general are mean and shabby. The Church is a large ancient structure, but offers nothing remarkable to the attention of the antiquary. The town likewise contains two Me ting Houses, and a Charity School, and was formerly of much greater extent; the ruins of another Church and of a Castle being still visible. What though thy shallow streams that creep along Nor ever bard has wak'd his tuneful powers, Though fairer mansions, prouder domes, I see, Haverhill Place. |
