Still, as the fleeting seasons change, From joy to joy poor mortals range, And as the year pursues its round, One pleasure's lost, another found; Time, urging on his envious course,...
'Tis night: the busy, ceaseless noise of day No more is heard; the now-deserted-streets Lie dark and silent; London's weary swarms Rest in profound repose. Hark! a loud cry...
In depth of loneliest wood, amid the din Of midnight storm and thunder, spoke Despair, While Horror, shuddering, heard that voice alone. Oh! load of guilt! relentless misery!...
Muse of the pastoral reed and sylvan reign, Divine inspirer of each tuneful swain, Who taught the Doric Shepherd to portray Primeval nature in his simple lay;...
My task is done; no further will I mow; I faint with hunger, and with heat I glow. Well, Giles, what cheer? how far behind you lag! Badly your practice answers to your brag.
When to the region of the tuneful Nine, Rapt in poetic vision, I retire, Listening intent to catch the strain divine What a dead silence hangs upon the lyre! ...
'Should you e'er be unwell, send directly for me; To cure you I'll haste with all possible speed, Prescribe and find medicine without any fee.' Oh! Doctor! your offer's most generous indeed;...
Still, still his bell-like voice rings through my head; Yet not one bright thought cheers my mental view; O! would that I were deaf, asleep, or dead! Ye marble statues! how I envy you! ...
That sermon, reverend Sir, which you have bought, To save your idle brain the toil of thought, You read in such a dull, lethargic tone, It seems almost as stupid as your own. ...
Thou able, boaster! Virgil to translate! Can'st thou, then, be so vain, so shallow-pated? To a far higher intellectual state, Coxcomb! thou must, thyself, be first translated.
Henceforth at miracles who'll dare to mock? No wonder Orpheus' lyre could move the brutes, Or Moses' rod strike water from the rock; Lo! Shakspeare's genius melts the heart of Nutes,...
Satan, says scripture, like a roaring lion, Goes about, seeking whom he may devour. What should a priest, then, chiefly keep his eye on? To guard his flock against the tempter's power....
Reform! reform! cries out the longing nation; The people hail their own-elected House; On tiptoe stands the general expectation: What the grand doings of the Administration?...
'March on! march swiftly on!' the people cry, Let us pursue Truth, Knowledge, Liberty! March not so fast, my friends! or you will find, That, in your haste, you've left them all behind. ...
Too long within the House has darkness dwelt, Egyptian darkness, by the nation felt; Therefore, though demagogues, whose deeds are ill, For blind debate might love that darkness still,...