Works

Goddess of youth, and lady of the spring,
Most fit to be the consort to a king,
Be pleas'd to rest you in this sacred grove
Beset with myrtles, whose each leaf drops love....

1.
Shall we roam, my love,
To the twilight grove,
When the moon is rising bright;
Oh, I'll whisper there,
In the cool night-air,
What I dare not in broad daylight!

2....

AFTER HIS LONG SILENCE

Dear old friend of us all in need
Who know the worth of a friend indeed,
How rejoiced are we all to learn
Of your glad return.

We who have missed your voice so long -...

Come forth, O rain! from thy cool, distant hall,
And lave the parched brow of the feverish earth,
The little drooping flow'rets on thee call,
Come, with thy cool touch wake them up to mirth...

Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky
When storms prepare to part,
I ask not proud Philosophy
To teach me what thou art;

Still seem; as to my childhood's sight,
A midway station given...

As awm sittin enjoyin mi pipe,
An tooastin mi shins beside th' hob,
Aw find ther's a harvest quite ripe,
O' thowts stoored away i' mi nob.
An aw see things as plainly to-neet,...

Stupidity and error, avarice and vice,
possess our spirits, batten on our flesh,
we feed that fond remorse, our guest,
like ragged beggars nourishing their lice.

...

Pray thee, take care, that tak'st my book in hand,
To read it well - that is, to understand.

Art was a palace once, things great and fair,
And strong and holy, found a temple there:
Now 'tis a lazar-house of leprous men.
O shall me hear an English song again!...

Now, dearest comrade, lift me to your face,
We must separate awhile, Here! take from my lips this kiss.
Whoever you are, I give it especially to you;
So long!, And I hope we shall meet again.

Into these loves who but for passion looks,
At this first sight here let him lay them by,
And seek elsewhere in turning other books,
Which better may his labour satisfy....

This little book's a letter,
I send direct to you;
I hope that you will like it,
And read it thru and thru.
And after you have read it,
Just send a thot to me;
Your thots will help to make me...

Ah yes, we know what you're saying,
As your eye glances over these Notes:
'What asses are these that are braying
With flat and unmusical throats?
Who writes such unspeakable patter?...

God bless ye, brothers! in the fight
Ye 're waging now, ye cannot fail,
For better is your sense of right
Than king-craft's triple mail.
Than tyrant's law, or bigot's ban,...

1.
Brothers! between you and me
Whirlwinds sweep and billows roar:
Yet in spirit oft I see
On thy wild and winding shore
Freedom's bloodless banners wave, -
Feel the pulses of the brave...

(AFTER HEINE.)

Thou little village curate,
Come quick, and do not wait;
We'll sit and talk together,
So sweetly tete-a-tete.

Oh do not fear the railway
Because it seems so big--...

AUTHOR OF THE POETICAL PORTRAITURE OF THE CHURCH.


Sweet singer of Romaldkirk, thou who art reckoned,
By critics Episcopal, David the Second,[1]
If thus, as a Curate, so lofty your flight,...

Enlightened Teacher, gladly from thy hand
Have I received this proof of pains bestowed
By Thee to guide thy Pupils on the road
That, in our native isle, and every land,...

WITH A PRESENT OF A PAPER-BOOK, FINELY BOUND, ON HIS BIRTH-DAY, NOV. 30, 1732.[1] BY JOHN, EARL OF ORRERY

To thee, dear Swift, these spotless leaves I send;
Small is the present, but sincere the friend....

The swallows in their torpid state
Compose their useless wing,
And bees in hives as idly wait
The call of early Spring.


The keenest frost that binds the stream,
The wildest wind that blows,...