Yes! heaven protect thee, thou gem of the ocean; Dear land of my sires, though distant thy shores; Ere my heart cease to love thee, its latest emotion, The last dying throbs of its pulse must be o'er. ...
Your book I've read: I would that I had not! For what instruction, pleasure, have I got? Amid that artful labyrinth of doubt Long, long I wander'd, striving to get out;...
Critic! should I vouchsafe to learn of thee, Correct, no doubt, but cold my strains would be: Now, cold correctness! I despise the name; Is that a passport through the gates of fame?...
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! ...
Oh! why does sorrow shade thy face, Where mind and beauty vie with grace? Say, dost thou for thy hero weep, Who gallantly, upon the deep, Is gone to tell the madd'ning foe,...
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: -...
Within his cold and cheerless cell, I heard the sighing Censor tell That ev'ry charm of life was gone, That ev'ry noble virtue long Had ceas'd to wake the Minstrel's song,...
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: ...
Much injur'd, Scotia! was thy genuine worth, When late the[A] surly Rambler wandered forth In brown[B] surtout, with ragged staff, Enough to make a savage laugh! And sent the faithless legend from his hand,...
"What hast thou seen in the olden time, Dark ruin, lone and gray?" "Full many a race from thy native clime, And the bright earth, pass away. The organ has pealed in these roofless aisles,...
Amid the ruins of monastic gloom, Where Nore's meand'ring waters wind along, Genius and Wealth have rais'd the tasteful dome, Yet not alone for Fashion's brilliant throng; - ...
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;...