The small white landscape, on black paper, No. 26, it is presumed, was the occasion of the following verse, being written and left in the exhibition room at Liverpool: TO MASTER HUBARD, ON HIS TREE, CUT IN PAPER. Fair hand, that can on virgin paper write,/ Yet from the stain of ink preserve it white:/ Whose travel o'er that silver field doth show,/ Like track of leverets in morning snow./ Love's image thus in purest minds is wrought,/ Without a spot or blemish to the thought./ Strange, that your fingers should the pencil foil,/ Without the help of colours or of oil:/ For though a painter boughs and leaves can make,/ 'Tis you alone can make them bend and shake;/ Whose breath salutes your new created grove,/ Like southern winds, and makes it gently move./ Orpheus could make the forest dance; but you/ Can make the motion, and the forest too. [P. 13; exhibited under heading: "Landscapes, Trees, Flowers, &c.".]
A Catalogue of the Subjects contained in the Hubard Gallery; to which is prefixed a Brief Memoir of Master Hubard. Price Sixpence. New York: Printed by D. Fanshaw, No. 1 Murray-St. 1824.