And concludes,
Here I would wander, from day’s earliest dawn,
Till o’er the western summit steals dark night;
And from the rugged cliff or dewy lawn,
Reluctant fades the last pale gleam of light.
Visits among her numerous friends, and excursions on business and pleasure, in which she not unfrequently accompanied her father, occasionally afforded themes for her pen, and her wanderings may often be tracked by the titles she gave to these effusions. “A sonnet written in Cumberland,” bears date 1790. Another “in a bower in Wroxham Churchyard,” August, 1792. A serio-comic poem written at Windermere, in a letter to her father, gives an account of the merry antics played by herself and a gay party of young folks with whom she made the trip, and one, which we give to the reader, was
“WRITTEN ON SEEING A BUST OF MINERVA AT FELBRIGG
HALL, THROWN INTO A CORNER AMONGST RUBBISH.”
Who should have thought in Windham’s breast
Ingratitude to find!