Written by Lord Morpeth:
Beats thy quick pulse o'er Inchbald's thrilling leaf,
Brunton's high moral, Opie's deep wrought grief?
Has the mild chaperon claimed thy yielding heart,
Carroll's dark page, Trevelyans's gentle art?
Or is it thou, all perfect Austen? Here
Let one poor wreath adorn thy early bier,
That scarce allowed thy modest youth to claim
Its living portion of thy certain fame!
Oh! Mrs. Bennet! Mrs. Norris too!
While memory survives we'll dream of you.
And Mr. Woodhouse, whose abstemious lip
Must thin, but not too thin, his gruel sip.
Miss Bates, our idol, though the village bore;
And Mrs. Elton, ardent to explore.
While the clear style flows on without pretence;
With unstained purity, and unmatched sense:
Or, if a sister e're approached the throne,
She called the rich 'inheritance' her own.

Written by Jane Austen:
......................... 1 ...............................
In measured verse I'll now rehearse
The charms of lovely Anna;
And, first, her mind is unconfined
Like any vast savannah.

......................... 2 ...............................
Ontario's lake may fitly speak
Her fancy's ample bound:
Its circuit may, on strict survey
Five houndred miles be found.

......................... 3 ...............................
Her wit descends on foes and friends
Like famed Niagara's Fall;
And travellers gaze in wild amaze,
And listen, one and all.

......................... 4 ...............................
Her judgment sound, thick, black, profound,
Like transatlantic groves,
Dispenses aid, and friendly shade
To all that in it roves.

......................... 5...............................
If thus her mind to be defined
America exhausts,
And all that's grand in that great land
In similes it costs.--

......................... 6 ...............................
Oh how can I her person try
To image and portray
How paint the face, the form how trace
In which those virtues lay?

......................... 7 ...............................
Another world must be unfurled,
Another language known,
Ere tongue or sound can publish round
Her charms of flesh and bone.

......................... 1 ...............................
The days returns again, my natal day;
What mix'd emotions in my mind arise!
Beloved Friend; four years have passed away
Since thou wert snatched for ever from our eyes.

......................... 2 ...............................
The day commomrative of my birth,
Bestowing life, and light, and hope to me,
Brings bask the hour which was thy last on earth
O! bitter pang of torturing memory!

......................... 3 ...............................
Angelic woman! past my power to praise
In language meet thy talents, temper, mind,
Thy solid worth, thy captivating grace,
Thou friend and ornament of human kind.

......................... 4 ...............................
But some, fond Fancy, thou indulgent power;
Hope is desponding, chill, severe, to thee:
Bless thou this little portion of an hour;
Let me behold her as she used to be.

......................... 5 ...............................
I see her here with all her smiles benign,
Her looks of eager love, her accents sweet,
That voice and countenance almost divine,
Expression, harmony, alike complete.

......................... 6 ...............................
Listen! It is not sound alone, 'tis sense,
'Tis genius, taste, and tenderness of soul:
'Tis genuine warmth of heart without pretence,
And purity of mind that crowns the whole.

......................... 7...............................
She speaks! 'Tis eloquence, that grace of tongue,
So rare, so lovely, never misapplied
By her, to palliate vice, or deck a wrong:
She speaks and argues but on virtue's side.

......................... 8 ...............................
Hers is the energy of soul sincere;
Her Christian spirit, ignorant to feign,
Seeks but to comfort, heal, enlighten, cheer,
Confer a pleasure or prevent a pain.

......................... 9 ...............................
Can aught enhance such goodness? yes, to me
Her partial favour from my earliest years
Consummates all: ah! give me but to see
Her smile of love! The vision disappears.

......................... 10 ...............................
'Tis past and gone. We meet no more below.
Short is the cheat of Fancy o'er the tomb.
Oh! might I hope to equal bliss to go,
To meet thee, angel, in thy future home

......................... 11 ...............................
Fain would I feel an union with thy fate:
Fain would I seek to draw an omen fair
From this connection in our earthly date.
Indulge the harmless weakness. Reason, spare.