Fall'n pile! I ask not what has been thy fate; But when the winds, slow wafted from the main, Through each rent arch, like spirits that complain, Come hollow to my ear, I meditate...
From the vast and desert deeps, Where the lonely Kraken sleeps, Where fixed the icy mountains high Glimmer to the twilight sky; Where, six lingering months to last,...
Beautiful landscape! I could look on thee For hours, unmindful of the storm and strife, And mingled murmurs of tumultuous life. Here, all is still as fair; the stream, the tree,...
Fountain, that sparklest through the shady place, Making a soft, sad murmur o'er the stones That strew thy lucid way! Oh, if some guest Should haply wander near, with slow disease...
When last we parted, thou wert young and fair How beautiful let fond remembrance say! Alas! since then old Time has stol'n away Nigh forty years, leaving my temples bare:...
Nay, let us gaze, ev'n till the sense is full, Upon the rich creation, shadowed so That not great Nature, in her loftiest pomp Of living beauty, ever on the sight Rose more magnificent; nor aught so fair...
Up, up, into the vast extended space, Thou art ascending in thy majesty, Beautiful moon, the queen of the pale sky! But what is that which gathers on thy face, A dark mysterious shade, eclipsing, slow,...
Oh, Mary, when distress and anguish came, And slow disease preyed on thy wasted frame; When every friend, ev'n like thy bloom, was fled, And Want bowed low thy unsupported head;...
Languid, and sad, and slow, from day to day I journey on, yet pensive turn to view, Where the rich landscape gleams with softer hue, The streams, and vales, and hills, that steal away....
Spirit of beauty, and of heavenly song! No longer seek in vain, 'mid the loud throng, 'Mid the discordant tumults of mankind, One spirit, gentle as thyself, to find. ...
Oh, stay, harmonious and sweet sounds, that die In the long vaultings of this ancient fane! Stay, for I may not hear on earth again Those pious airs, that glorious harmony;...
The orient beam illumes the parting oar; From yonder azure track, emerging white, The earliest sail slow gains upon the sight, And the blue wave comes rippling to the shore....
If I could bid thee, pleasant shade, farewell Without a sigh, amidst whose circling bowers My stripling prime was passed, and happiest hours, Dead were I to the sympathies that swell...
Clysdale! as thy romantic vales I leave, And bid farewell to each retiring hill, Where musing memory seems to linger still, Tracing the broad bright landscape; much I grieve...
The spring shall visit thee again, Itchin! and yonder ancient fane,[1] That casts its shadow on thy breast, As if, by many winters beat, The blooming season it would greet,...
Yes, Pamela, this infant tree Planted in sacred earth by thee, Shall strike its root, and pleasant grow Whilst I am mouldering dust below. This churchyard turf shall still be green,...
Oh! still, as with a seraph's voice, prolong The harmonies of that enchanting song, Till, listening, we might almost think we hear, Beyond this cloudy world, in the pure sphere...
Mortal! who, armed with holy fortitude, The path of good right onward hast pursued; May HE, to whose eternal throne on high The sufferers of the earth with anguish cry, Be thy protector! On that dreary road...