Works

Wherefore ever ramble on?

For the Good is lying near,
Fortune learn to seize alone,

For that Fortune's ever here.

WHEN the vine again is blowing,

Then the wine moves in the cask;
When the rose again is glowing,

Wherefore should I feel oppress'd?

Down my cheeks run tears all-burning,
...

Here where the roses blossom, where vines round the laurels are twining,

Where the turtle-dove calls, where the blithe cricket is heard,
Say, whose grave can this be, with life by all the Immortals
...

Why pacest thou, my neighbour fair,

The garden all alone?
If house and land thou seek'st to guard,

I'd thee as mistress own.

My brother sought the cellar-maid,
...

Go! obedient to my call,

Turn to profit thy young days,

Wiser make betimes thy breast

In Fate's balance as it sways,

Seldom is the cock at rest;
Thou must either mount, or fall,...

THE LADY.

IN the small and great world too,

What most charms a woman's heart?
It is doubtless what is new,

For its blossoms joy impart;
Nobler far is what is true,
...

I Picked a rustic nosegay lately,
And bore it homewards, musing greatly;
When, heated by my hand, I found
The heads all drooping tow'rd the ground.
I plac'd them in a well-cool'd glass,...

A plan the Muses entertain'd

Methodically to impart

To Psyche the poetic art;
Prosaic-pure her soul remain'd.
No wondrous sounds escaped her lyre

E'en in the fairest Summer night;...

WEEP, maiden, weep here o'er the tomb of Love;

He died of nothing by mere chance was slain.
But is he really dead? oh, that I cannot prove:

A nothing, a mere chance, oft gives him life again.

Tell me, eyes, what 'tis ye're seeking;

For ye're saying something sweet,

Fit the ravish'd ear to greet,
Eloquently, softly speaking.

Yet I see now why ye're roving;
...

Artist, fashion! talk not long!
Be a breath thine only song!

Modest men must needs endure,

And the bold must humbly bow;
Thus thy fate's the same, be sure,

Whether bold or modest thou.

The mason's trade Observe them well,

Resembles life, And watch them revealing

With all its strife, How solemn feeling
Is like the stir made And wonderment swell
...

At midnight hour I went, not willingly,

A little, little boy, yon churchyard past,
To Father Vicar's house; the stars on high

On all around their beauteous radiance cast,

At midnight hour....

Over the meadows, and down the stream,

And through the garden-walks straying,
He plucks the flowers that fairest seem;

His throbbing heart brooks no delaying....

Flourish greener, as ye clamber,
Oh ye leaves, to seek my chamber,

Up the trellis'd vine on high!
May ye swell, twin-berries tender,
Juicier far, and with more splendour
...

Oh, enter old minstrel, thou time-honour'd one!
We children are here in the hall all alone,

The portals we straightway will bar.
Our mother is praying, our father is gone
...

The father's name ye ne'er shall be told

Of my darling unborn life;
"Shame, shame," ye cry, "on the strumpet bold!"

Yet I'm an honest wife.

To whom I'm wedded, ye ne'er shall be told,
...

Silence deep rules o'er the waters,

Calmly slumb'ring lies the main,
While the sailor views with trouble

Nought but one vast level plain.

Not a zephyr is in motion!
...

Christ is arisen!

Mortal, all hail!
Thou, of Earth's prison

Dreary and frail,
Bursting the veil,

Proudly hast risen!

CHORUS OF WOMEN.

Rich spices and myrrh,
...