Oh! form'd to prompt the smile or tear, At once so sweet, yet so severe! As much for you as him I grieve; Ah! thoughtless! if you thus can leave A mind with wit and learning bright,...
Once, for a palace, Painting left her grove, And taught her royal fav'rite's hand to trace A beauteous maiden's tale of little Love, His silken wings, soft limbs, and laughing face! ...
Since Friendship soon must bid a fond adieu, And, parting, wish your charms she never knew, Dear Laura hear one genuine thought express'd, Warm from the heart, and to the heart address'd: -...
Tho' nought, amid these darkened groves, But various groups of death appear, Scar'd at the sight, tho' fly the Loves, And Sickness saddens all the year,
Oh! with what genuine pleasure do I trace Each line of that long-lov'd, accustom'd, face, Where Time, as if enchanted, and imprest With all the virtues of thy peaceful breast,...
Dire were the horrors of that ruthless storm, That for young Lycid form'd a wat'ry grave; Oh! many wept to see his fainting form Unaided sink beneath th' o'erwhelming wave. ...
Hier rees die groote zon, en ging te Bazel onder! De Rykstad eer' en vier' dien Heilig in zyn grav; Dit tweede leeven geevt, die't eerste leeven gav:...
Tyrant of all our loves and friendships here, Behold thy beauteous victim! - Ah! tis thine To rend fond hearts, and start the tend'rest tear Where joy should long in cloudless radiance shine. ...
Well on that neck, sweet Kitty! may you wear The sparkling cross, with hopes to soften Heaven; For trust me, tho' so very young and fair, Thou hast some little sins to be forgiven: -...
The Moon had bespangled the murmuring wave, The dew-drop had moisten'd the moss of the cave, The summer night-breeze, like a sigh, was just heard, When thus flow'd the strains of the dark-warbling bird: ...
Many a green isle needs must be In the deep wide sea of Misery, Or the mariner, worn and wan, Never thus could voyage on - Day and night, and night and day, Drifting on his dreary way,...
Spot of my youth! whose hoary branches sigh, Swept by the breeze that fans thy cloudless sky; Where now alone I muse, who oft have trod, With those I loved, thy soft and verdant sod;...
Though bleak these woods, and damp the ground, With fallen leaves so thickly strewn, And cold the wind that wanders round With wild and melancholy moan;