The Budget--quite charming and witty--no hearing, For plaudits and laughs, the good things that were in it;-- Great comfort to find, tho' the speech isn't cheering,...
Merrily every bosom boundeth, Merrily, oh! Where the song of Freedom soundeth, Merrily oh! There the warrior's arms Shed more splendor; There the maiden's charm's Shine more tender;...
Mind not tho' daylight around us is breaking,-- Who'd think now of sleeping when morn's but just waking? Sound the merry viol, and daylight or not, Be all for one hour in the gay dance forgot. ...
Though long at school and college dozing. O'er books of verse and books of prosing, And copying from their moral pages Fine recipes for making sages;...
"His Lordship said that it took a long time for a moral position to find its way across the Atlantic. He was very sorry that its voyage had been so long," etc.--Speech of Lord Dudley and Ward on Colonial Slavery, March 8. ...
Of all the odd plans of this monstrously queer age, The oddest is that of reforming the peerage;-- Just as if we, great dons, with a title and star, Did not get on exceedingly well as we are,...
"My birth-day"--what a different sound That word had in my youthful ears! And how, each time the day comes round, Less and less white its mark appears!
My gentle harp, once more I waken The sweetness of thy slumbering strain; In tears our last farewell was taken, And now in tears we meet again. No light of joy hath o'er thee broken,...
My harp has one unchanging theme, One strain that still comes o'er Its languid chord, as 'twere a dream Of joy that's now no more. In vain I try, with livelier air, To wake the breathing string;...
I give thee all--I can no more-- Tho' poor the offering be; My heart and lute are all the store That I can bring to thee. A lute whose gentle song reveals The soul of love full well;...
My Mopsa is little, my Mopsa is brown, But her cheek is as smooth as the peach's soft down, And, for blushing, no rose can come near her; In short, she has woven such nets round my heart,...
In vain we fondly strive to trace The soul's reflection in the face; In vain we dwell on lines and crosses, Crooked mouth or short proboscis; Boobies have looked as wise and bright...
Nay, tell me not, dear, that the goblet drowns One charm of feeling, one fond regret; Believe me, a few of thy angry frowns Are all I've sunk in its bright wave yet. Ne'er hath a beam...
Ne'er ask the hour--what is it to us How Time deals out his treasures? The golden moments lent us thus, Are not his coin, but Pleasure's. If counting them o'er could add to their blisses,...
Ne'er talk of Wisdom's gloomy schools; Give me the sage who's able To draw his moral thoughts and rules From the study of the table;-- Who learns how lightly, fleetly pass...
Come, listen to my story, while Your needle task you ply: At what I sing some maids will smile, While some, perhaps, may sigh. Though Love's the theme, and Wisdom blames Such florid songs as ours, ...