During a tempest encountered homeward-bound from the Mediterranean, a grizzled petty-officer, one of the two captains of the forecastle, dying at night in his hammock, swung in the sick-bay under the tiered gun-decks of the Bri...
Or look'd I back unto the times hence flown To praise those Muses and dislike our own-- Or did I walk those P'an-gardens through, To kick the flowers and scorn their odours too--...
We keep in step as years roll by; You march behind and I before: - The path is new to you; but I Have passed the ground you're walking o'er. Yet I march on with measured tread,...
Whether to sally and see thee, girl of my dreams, Or whether to stay And see thee not! How vast the difference seems Of Yea from Nay Just now. Yet this same sun will slant its beams At no far day...
Lofty and enduring is the monument I've reared: Come, tempests, with your bitterness assailing; And thou, corrosive blasts of time, by all things mortal feared, Thy buffets and thy rage are unavailing! ...
Oh, him whom at birth you with favor regarded Melpomene! never an Isthmian game Shall render renowned, though he's skilled as a boxer, Nor shall a swift horse lead him onward to fame....
A flight of doves, with wanton wings, Flash white against the sky. In the leafy copse an oriole sings, And a robin sings hard by. Sun and shadow are out on the hills;...
He'd a breet ruddy face an a laffin e'e, An his shoolders wer brooad as brooad need be; For each one he met he'd a sally o' wit, For a jovjal soul wor this same Tom Grit....
Touch but thy lyre, my Harry, and I hear From thee some raptures of the rare Gotiere; Then if thy voice commingle with the string, I hear in thee rare Laniere to sing;...
Always thy book, too late acknowledged thine, Now when thine eyes no earthly page may read; Blinded with death, or blinded with the shine Of love's own lore celestial. Small need,...
Milton! I think thy spirit hath passed away From these white cliffs and high-embattled towers; This gorgeous fiery-coloured world of ours Seems fallen into ashes dull and grey,...
Do I dream? can I trust to my eye? My sight sure some vapor must cover? Or, there, did my Minna pass by My Minna and knew not her lover? On the arm of the coxcomb she crossed,...
Time beckons on the hours: the expiring year Already feels old Winter's icy breath; As with cold hands, he scatters on her bier The faded glories of her Autumn wreath....
Beneath the shelter of the bush, In undisturbed repose Unruffled by the kiss of breeze There lurks a smiling rose; Beneath thine outer beauty, gleams, In holy light enshrined,...