To My Spaniel Fanny.

Fanny! were all the world like thee,
How cheerly then this life would glide,
Dear emblem of Fidelity!
Long may'st thou grace thy master's side.

Long cheer his hours of solitude,
With watchful eye each wish to learn,
And anxious speechless gratitude
Hail with delight each short sojourn.

When sick at heart, thy welcome home
A weary load of grief dispels,
Gladdens with hope the hours to come,
And yet a mournful lesson tells!

To find thee ever faithful, kind,
My guard by night, my friend by day,
While those in friendship more refined
Have with my fortunes flown away.

Why bounteous nature hast thou given
To this poor Brute--a boon so kind
As constancy--bless'd gift of Heaven!
And MAN--to waver like the wind?

Thomas Gent

Thomas Gent was an 18th-century English writer, printer, and bookseller, known predominantly for his historical works. Despite facing numerous financial difficulties, his passion for printing never waned, leading him to chronicle his experiences and the events of his time with a distinct personal touch. His works offer a vivid depiction of 18th-century English life, ensuring his place in literary history.

Thomas Gent

Address To Albion.

Thomas Gent, Simple Poetry

Lines Written In Hornsey Wood

Thomas Gent, Simple Poetry

Sonnet. To ............

Thomas Gent, Simple Poetry

To Robert Southey, Esq. On Reading His "Remains Of Henry Kirke White."

Thomas Gent, Simple Poetry

English

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Loving friend, the gift of one,
Who, her own true faith, hath run,
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With my hand upon thy head,
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Like a lady's ringlets brown,
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Shining out from all the rest
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Darkly brown thy body is,
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The Dog.

Of all the speechless friends of man
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I sing, of all e'er known to live
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A dog of many a sportive trick,
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Epistle To A Friend.

Give me the wreath of friendship true,
Whose flowerets fade not in a breath:
From memory gaining many a hue,
To bloom beyond the touch of death.

And I will send it to thy home--
Thy home beloved, my faithful friend!
And pray for its perpetual bloom
And every bliss that earth can send.

Within its magic wreath I'd place
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And cheer and bless the lonely hour.

When at the world's unkind return
Of all thy worth, and all thy care,
Thou may'st in spite of manhood turn,
And shed the sad, the bitter, tear.

Then, midst this holy grief of thine,
The thought of some true friend may bless,
And cheer the gloom like angel's smile,
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On The Death Of A Favourite Old Spaniel.

And they have drown'd thee then at last! poor Phillis!
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The Chain-Pier, Brighton; A Sketch.

Hail, lovely morn! and thou, all-beauteous sea!
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Verses Selected From An Occasional Poem Entitled Valediction.

O Friendship! cordial of the human breast!
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