Beautiful Boy--thy heavenward thoughts Are pictured in thine eyes, Thou hast no taint of mortal birth, Thy communing is not of earth, Thy holy musings rise: Like incense kindled from on high,...
Every poor Quidnunc now condemns The Tunnel underneath Old Thames, And swears, his science all forgetting, Friend Brunel's judgment wanted whetting; 'Tis thus great characters are dish'd,...
Tis sweet in boyhood's visionary mood, When glowing Fancy, innocently gay, Flings forth, like motes, her bright a'rial brood, To dance and shine in Hope's prolific ray;...
Once more we venture here, to prove our worth, And ask indulgence kind, to tempt us forth: Seek not perfection from our essays green, That, in man's noblest works, has never been,...
What sovereign good shall satiate man's desires, Propell'd by Hope's unconquerable fires? Vain each bright bauble by ambition prized; Unwon, 'tis worshipp'd--but possess'd, despised....
Great epoch in the history of bards! Important day to those who woo the nine; Better than fame are visitation-cards, And heaven on earth at a great house to dine.
Love, Cupid, Gallantry, whate'er We call that elf, seen every where, Half frolicsome, half ennuyeuse, Had chanced a country walk to choose; When sudden, sweet and bright as May,...
It is a mournful pleasure to remember the exquisite taste and delight she evinced in the arrangement of a Bouquet; and how often she wished that, hereafter, she might appear to me as a beautiful flower!
While o'er this pageant of sublunar things Oblivion spreads her unrelenting wings, And sweeps adown her dark unebbing tide Man, and his mightiest monuments of pride-- Alone, aloft, immutable, sublime,...
Embalm'd in fame, and sacred from decay, What mighty name, in arms, in arts, or verse, From England claims this consecrated day. Her nobles crowding round the shadowy hearse? ...
When Discord blew her fell alarm On Gallia's blood-stain'd ground, When Usurpation's giant arm Enslaved the nations round: The thunders of avenging Heaven To NELSON'S chosen hand were given!...
When the rough storm roars round the peasant's cot, And bursting thunders roll their awful din; While shrieks the frighted night bird o'er the spot, Oh! what serenity remains within!...
When the rough storm roars round the peasant's cot, And bursting thunders roll their awful din; While shrieks the frighted night-bird o'er the spot, Oh! what serenity remains within!...
Meek Maid! that sitting on yon lofty tower, View'st the calm floods that wildly beat below, Be off! yon sunbeam veils a heavy shower, Which sets my heart with joy a aching, oh!...
Light as the breeze that hails the infant morn The Milkmaid trips, as o'er her arm she slings Her cleanly pail, some fav'rite lay she sings As sweetly wild and cheerful as the horn....
Now when dun Night her shadowy veil has spread, See want and infamy, as forth they come, Lead their wan daughter from her branded home, To woo the stranger for unhallow'd bread....
Sweet wreck of loveliness! alas, how soon The sad brief summer of thy joys hath fled: How sorrows Friendship for thy hapless doom, Thy beauty faded, and thy hopes all dead....
Sweet songstress! whom the melancholy Muse With more than fondness loved, for thee she strung The lyre, on which herself enraptured hung, And bade thee through the world its sweets diffuse....