Works

"Is that the Three-and-Twentieth, Strabo mine,
Marching below, and we still gulping wine?"
From the sad magic of his fragrant cup
The red-faced old centurion started up,...

Everything goes to its rest;
The hills are asleep in the noon;
And life is as still in its nest
As the moon when she looks on a moon
In the depth of a calm river's breast...

No, Music, thou art not the 'food of Love.'
Unless Love feeds upon its own sweet self,
Till it becomes all Music murmurs of.

Wash your hands, or else the fire
Will not tend to your desire;
Unwashed hands, ye maidens, know,
Dead the fire, though ye blow.

First, for your shape, the curious cannot show
Any one part that's dissonant in you:
And 'gainst your chaste behaviour there's no plea,
Since you are known to be Penelope....

Thou had'st the wreath before, now take the tree,
That henceforth none be laurel-crown'd but thee.

As sunbeams pierce the glass, and streaming in,
No crack or schism leave i' th' subtle skin:
So the Divine Hand worked and brake no thread,
But, in a mother, kept a maidenhead.

1.

Montgomery! true, the common lot
Of mortals lies in Lethe's wave;
Yet some shall never be forgot,
Some shall exist beyond the grave.


2.

"Unknown the region of his birth,"...

I

In pity to the empty'ng Town,
Some God May Fair invented,
When Nature would invite us down,
To be by Art prevented.

II

What a corrupted taste is ours...

What is prudery?

'Tis a bledam,
Seen with wit and beauty seldom.
'Tis a fear that starts at shadows.
Tis, (no, 'tisn't) like Miss Meadows.
'Tis a virgin hard of feature,...

Dear simple girl, those flattering arts,
(From which thou'dst guard frail female hearts,)
Exist but in imagination,
Mere phantoms of thine own creation;
For he who views that witching grace,...

After some observations from Dr. M'Grig
On that fossil reliquium called Petrified Wig,
Or Perruquolithus--a specimen rare
Of those wigs made for antediluvian wear,...

(See Note 47)

Give us, God, to Thee now turning,
Fullness of joy, tears full and burning,
Of will the full refining fire!
Hear our prayer o'er his inurning:
His will was one, the whole discerning,...

On one of the Battle-fields of the Wilderness

Silence and solitude may hint
(Whose home is in yon piney wood)
What I, though tableted, could never tell--
The din which here befell,...

Spring with the lark, most comely bride, and meet
Your eager bridegroom with auspicious feet.
The morn's far spent, and the immortal sun
Corals his cheek to see those rites not done....

Is this a life, to break thy sleep,
To rise as soon as day doth peep?
To tire thy patient ox or ass
By noon, and let thy good days pass,
Not knowing this, that Jove decrees...

Thou happy, happy elf!
(But stop, - first let me kiss away that tear) -
Thou tiny image of myself!
(My love, he's poking peas into his ear!)
Thou merry, laughing sprite!
With spirits feather-light,...

Yes, we knew we must lose him, - though friendship may claim
To blend her green leaves with the laurels of fame;
Though fondly, at parting, we call him our own,
'T is the whisper of love when the bugle has blown....

In awful pomp and melancholy state,
See settled Reason on the judgement-seat;
Around her crowd Distrust, and Doubt, and Fear,
And thoughtful Foresight, and tormenting Care;...

Mon. Bad are the times. Sil. And worse than they are we.
Mon. Troth, bad are both; worse fruit and ill the tree:
The feast of shepherds fail. Sil. None crowns the cup
Of wassail now or sets the quintell up;...