Works

Sir Robert,[2] wearied by Will Pulteney's teasings,
Who interrupted him in all his leasings,
Resolved that Will and he should meet no more,
Full in his face Bob shuts the council door;...

1

The dew was full of sun that morn
(Oh I heard the doves in the ladyricks coop!)
As he crossed the meadows beyond the corn,
Watching his falcon in the blue.
How could he hear my song so far,...

If Noisy Tom[1] should in the senate prate,
"That he would answer both for church and state;
And, farther, to demonstrate his affection,
Would take the kingdom into his protection;"...

Jesus! where'er thy people meet,
There they behold thy mercy seat;
Where'er thy seek thee, thou art found,
And every place is hallow'd ground.


For thou, within no walls confined,...

As a thorn bush, or oaken bough,
Stuck in an Irish cabin's brow,
Above the door, at country fair,
Betokens entertainment there;
So bays on poets' brows have been
Set, for a sign of wit within....

When I beheld the Poet blind, yet bold,
In slender Book his vast Design unfold,
Messiah Crown'd, Gods Reconcil'd Decree,
Rebelling Angels, the Forbidden Tree,
Heav'n, Hell, Earth, Chaos, All; the Argument...

Oh, youthful bearer of my palanquin,
Thy glossy hair lies loosened on thy neck,
The "tears of labour" gem thy velvet skin,
Whose even texture knows no other fleck.
...

I stood on the top of Pitz Languard,
And heard three voices whispering low,
Where the Alpine birds in their circling ward
Made swift dark shadows upon the snow.

First Voice.
...

I saw on a hedge that was flourishing by
A rose that was stirred by the breath of the morn,
So smiling and fragrant it looked there, that I
Was tempted to seize it, forgetting the thorn.
...

Prat he writes satires, but herein's the fault,
In no one satire there's a mite of salt.

All human race would fain be wits,
And millions miss for one that hits.
Young's universal passion, pride,[1]
Was never known to spread so wide.
Say, Britain, could you ever boast...

At two afternoon for our Psyche inquire,
Her tea-kettle's on, and her smock at the fire:
So loitering, so active; so busy, so idle;
Which has she most need of, a spur or a bridle?...

After the wailing had already begun
along the walls, their ruin certain,
the Trojans fidgeted with bits of wood
in the three-ply doors, itsy-bitsy
pieces of wood, fussing with them....

If there be truth in what you sing,
Such godlike virtues in the king;
A minister[1] so fill'd with zeal
And wisdom for the commonweal;
If he[2] who in the chair presides,
So steadily the senate guides;...

Sad thy tale, thou idle page,
And rueful thy alarms:
Death tears the brother of her love
From Isabella's arms.

Sweetly deck'd with pearly dew
The morning rose may blow;...

To Horace Greeley, of date Aug. 22, 1862 "If I could save the Union without freeing any slave, I would do it," etc.

Perish the power that, bowed to dust,
Still wields a tyrant's rod...

By the trim taper, and the blazing hearth,
(While loud without the blast of winter sung),
Now thrill'd with awe, and now relax'd with mirth,
Paris, I've roam'd thy varied haunts among,...

In language warm as could be breathed or penn'd
Thy picture speaks the original, my friend,
Not by those looks that indicate thy mind'
They only speak thee friend of all mankind;...

They hold their own, they have no peers
In gloom and glow, in hopes and fears,
In love and terror, hovering round
The lore of that enchanted ground!
That mystic region, where one hears,...

Qua si fa elmi.


Here helms and swords are made of chalices:
The blood of Christ is sold so much the quart:
His cross and thorns are spears and shields; and short...