Many ages ago, near the high Hartz, there dwelt A rude race of blood-loving giants, who felt No joy but the fierce one which Carnage bestows, When her foul lips are clogged with the blood of her foes. ...
'Tis not in youth, when life is new, when but to live is sweet, When Pleasure strews her starlike flow'rs beneath our careless feet, When Hope, that has not been deferred, first waves its golden wings,...
"Whenever, amid bow'rs of myrtle, Love, summer-tressed and vernal-eyed, At morn or eve is seen to wander, A dark-haired girl is at his side." De La Hogue. ...
It is in sooth a lovely tress, Still curled in many a ring, As glossy as the plumes that dress The raven's jetty wing. And the broad and soul-illumined brow, Above whose arch it grew,...
Warrior of the youthful brow, Eager heart and eagle eye! Pants thy soul for battle now? Burns thy glance with victory? Dost thou dream of conflicts done, Perils past and trophies won?...