Lives there who, with unhallow'd hand, would tear, One leaf from that immortal wreath which shades The Hero's living brow, or decks his urn? Breathes there who does not triumph in the thought...
Once more Britannia sheathes her conqu'ring sword, And Peace returns, by Victory restored; Peace, that erewhile estranged, 'midst long alarms, Scarce welcomed home, was ravish'd from our arms;...
Can it be true, so fragrant and so fair, To give thy perfumes to the dews of night? Can aught so beautiful, despise the glare, And fade, and sicken in the morning light? ...
Come away, come away, little fly! Don't disturb the sweet calm of lore's nest; If you do, I protest you shall die, And your tomb be that beautiful breast. Don't tickle the girl in her sleep,...
So stood the Sibyl: stream'd her hoary hair Wild as the blast, and with a comet's glare Glow'd her red eye-balls 'midst the sunken gloom Of their wild orbs, like death-fires in a tomb....
Say, dark prow'd visitant! that o'er the brine Stalk'st proudly--heeding not what wind may blow, What chart, what compass, shapes that course of thine, Whence didst thou come, and whither dost thou go? ...
Still e'er that shrine defiance rears its head, Which rolls in sullen murmurs o'er the dead, That shrine which conquest, as it stems the flood. Too often tinges deep with human blood;...
0 Nymph! with cheeks of roseate hue, Whose eyes are violets bath'd in dew, So liquid, languishing, and blue, How they bewitch me! Thy bosom hath a magic spell, For when its full orbs heave and swell,...
Come away, come away, little fly! Don't disturb the sweet calm of love's nest: If you do, I protest you shall die, And your tomb be that beautiful breast.