By the side of a rock on the hill, beneath the aged trees, old Oscian sat on the moss; the last of the race of Fingal. Sightless are his aged eyes; his beard is waving in the wind. Dull...
The viewless and invisible Consequence Watches thy goings-out, and comings-in, And...hovers o'er thy guilty sleep, Unveiling every new-born deed, and thoughts More ghastly than those deeds -
Flourishing vine, whose kindling clusters glow Beneath the autumnal sun, none taste of thee; For thou dost shroud a ruin, and below The rotting bones of dead antiquity.
Ye gentle visitations of calm thought - Moods like the memories of happier earth, Which come arrayed in thoughts of little worth, Like stars in clouds by the weak winds enwrought, -...
If I were Francois Villon and Francois Villon I, What would it matter to me how the time might drag or fly? He would in sweaty anguish toil the days and night away,...
Row us out from Desenzano, to your Sirmione row! So they row'd, and there we landed''O venusta Sirmio!' There to me thro' all the groves of olive in the summer glow,...
I now delight In spite Of the might And the right Of classic tradition, In writing And reciting Straight ahead, Without let or omission, Just any little rhyme In any little time...
Douer, to doe thee Right, who will not striue, That dost in these dull yron Times reuiue The golden Ages glories; which poore Wee Had not so much as dream't on but for Thee?...
O city lapped in sun and Sabbath rest, With happy face of plenteous ease possessed, Have you no doubts that whisper, dreams that moan Disquietude, to stir your slumbering breast? ...
Farre in the countrey of Arden There wond a knight hight Cassemen, as bolde as Isenbras: Fell was he and eger bent, In battell and in Tournament, as was the good sir Topas....
Oh spightfull wayward wretched loue, Woe to Venus which did nurse thee, Heauens and earth thy plagues doe proue, Gods and men haue cause to curse thee. Thoughts griefe, hearts woe,...
He left us; we, the hour of parting come, To Prasidamus' hospitable home, Myself and Eucritus, together wend, With young Amynticus, our blooming friend: There, all delighted, through the summer day,...
'Tis sweet, in the green Spring, To gaze upon the wakening fields around; Birds in the thicket sing, Winds whisper, waters prattle from the ground; A thousand odours rise,...
Melodious Arethusa, o'er my verse Shed thou once more the spirit of thy stream: Who denies verse to Gallus? So, when thou Glidest beneath the green and purple gleam Of Syracusan waters, mayst thou flow...
Child, were I king, I'd yield my royal rule, My chariot, sceptre, vassal-service due, My crown, my porphyry-basined waters cool, My fleets, whereto the sea is but a pool, For a glance from you! ...