Samuel Rogers

Henry Luttrell, "Lines in an Alcove in Holland House" 1818; New Monthly Magazine 13 (May 1820) 592-93.

How charmed is the eye, which in Summer reposes
On this haunt of the Poet, o'ershadowed with roses!
I'll in and be seated — to try, if thus placed,
I can catch but one spark of his feeling and taste,
Can steal a sweet note from his musical strain,
Or a ray of his genius to kindle my brain.
Well, now I am fairly install'd in the bower,
How lovely the scene! how propitious the hour!
The breeze is perfumed, from the hawthorn it stirs,
All is silent around me — but nothing occurs,
Not a thought, I protest, though I'm here, and alone—
Not a chance of a couplet that ROGERS would own;
Though my senses are enraptured, my feelings in tune,
And HOLLAND'S my host, and the season is June;
Enough of my trials, nor garden, nor grove,
Though poets amidst them, may linger or rove,
Nor a seat e'en so hallow'd as this, can impart
The fancy and fire, that must spring from the heart.
So I rise, since the Muses continue to frown,
No more of a poet, than when I sat down;
While ROGERS, on whom they look kindly, can strike
Their lyre, in all times, and all places alike.
June 2, 1818.