Poem by Anonymous

On a Young Lady Wishing to Ascend in a Balloon

Forbear, sweet girl, your scheme forego,
	And thus our anxious troubles end;
Swiftly you’ll mount, full well we know,
	And greatly fear you’ll not descend!

When angels see a mortal rise,
	So beautiful, divine, and fair,
They’ll not release you from the skies,
	But keep their sister-angel there!

1. Bide ye yet by
2. Sir Richard Whittington’s Advancement
3. Shakespeare’s Monument at Stratford-upon-Avon
4. The Guard-Chamber
5. The Bells of Fletching

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