Here, at thy tomb, these tears I shed, Tears, which though vainly now they roll, Are all love hath to give the dead, And wept o'er thee with all love's soul;--
Here sleeps the Bard who knew so well All the sweet windings of Apollo's shell; Whether its music rolled like torrents near. Or died, like distant streamlets, on the ear....
Here's the bower she loved so much, And the tree she planted; Here's the harp she used to touch-- Oh, how that touch enchanted! Roses now unheeded sigh; Where's the hand to wreathe them?...
Here, take my heart--'twill be safe in thy keeping, While I go wandering o'er land and o'er sea; Smiling or sorrowing, waking or sleeping, What need I care, so my heart is with thee? ...
Her last words, at parting, how can I forget? Deep treasured thro' life, in my heart they shall stay; Like music, whose charm in the soul lingers yet, When its sounds from the ear have long melted away....
"The night wind is moaning with mournful sigh, "There gleameth no moon in the misty sky "No star over Helle's sea; "Yet, yet, there is shining one holy light, "One love-kindled star thro' the deep of night,...
Come, fill round a bumper, fill up to the brim, He who shrinks from a bumper I pledge not to him; Here's the girl that each loves, be her eye of what hue, Or lustre, it may, so her heart is but true....
Hope comes again, to this heart long a stranger, Once more she sings me her flattering strain; But hush, gentle syren--for, ah, there's less danger In still suffering on, than in hoping again. ...
odi profanum, valgus et arceo; favete linguis: carmina non prius audila Musarum sacerdos virginibus puerisque canto. regum timendorum in proprios greges, reges in ipsos imperium est Jovis.
The man who keeps a conscience pure, (If not his own, at least his Prince's,) Thro' toil and danger walks secure, Looks big and black and never winces.
How dear to me the hour when daylight dies, And sunbeams melt along the silent sea, For then sweet dreams of other days arise, And memory breathes her vesper sigh to thee. ...
How happy, once, tho' winged with sighs, My moments flew along, While looking on those smiling eyes, And listening to thy magic song! But vanished now, like summer dreams, Those moments smile no more;...
How oft has the Banshee cried, How oft has death untied Bright links that Glory wove, Sweet bonds entwined by Love! Peace to each manly soul that sleepeth; Rest to each faithful eye that weepeth;...
Oft, when the watching stars grow pale, And round me sleeps the moonlight scene, To hear a flute through yonder vale I from my casement lean. "Come, come, my love!" each note then seems to say,...
If I speak to thee in friendship's name, Thou think'st I speak too coldly; If I mention Love's devoted flame, Thou say'st I speak too boldly. Between these two unequal fires, Why doom me thus to hover?...
Whene'er you're in doubt, said a Sage I once knew, 'Twixt two lines of conduct which course to pursue, Ask a woman's advice, and, whate'er she advise, Do the very reverse and you're sure to be wise. ...