See, the waves clasp the Sun, as he sinks from our sight, And Despair sullen rides on the wings of the night; Lo! he comes, and reproaches our arms with delay, -...
Poor Molly O'Flannagan (Lord rest her soul!) Drank so deeply of whiskey, 'twas thought she would die; Her fond lover, Pat, from her nate cabin stole, And stepp'd into Dublin to buy her a pie....
Wide thro' the azure blue and bright Serenely floats the lamp of night; The sleeping waves forget to move, And silent is the cedar grove; Each breeze suspended seems to say -...
The Cit, relying on his trade, Which, like all other things, may fade, Longs for a curricle and villa: This Hatchet splendidly supplies, The other Cock'ril builds, or buys,...
Echo! thou sweet enchantress of the grove! Oh! cease to answer to the tones of love; Or teach my Delia in thine art divine, Thou loveliest nymph! to hear and answer mine!
By painful sickness long severely prest, Here sinks, on Nature's sacred lap of rest, A friend, who, in a life too short, display'd A mind in virtue bright, without one shade....
Epitaph To The Memory Of A Worthy Man, The Rev. Mr. Sleep, Curate Of Kingswear Church, Devon, Whose Devotional Elocution Was Remarkably Impregnated With Soporific Qualities.
Bristol! in vain thy rocks attempt the sky, The wild woods waving on their giddy brow; And vainly, devious Avon! vainly sigh Thy waters, winding thro' the vales below; - ...
When men exert their utmost pow'rs, To while away the tedious hours, With soothing Flatt'ry's art, When ev'ry art and work well skill'd, And ev'ry look with poison fill'd, Assail a woman's heart, ...
How like is childhood to the lucid tide That calmly wanders thro' the mossy dell, Sweeps o'er the lily by the margin's side, And, as it kisses, murmurs out, Farewell!
By Beauty's caresses, like Cupid, half-spoil'd, Thus Music's and Poesy's favourite child Exclaim'd, - "'Tis, by Heaven! a terrible thing Before a he-party to sit and to sing!"...
The sign of the house should be chang'd, I'll be sworn, Where enchanted we find so much beauty and grace; Then quick from the door let the lion be torn, And an angel expand her white wings in his place.
Whilst, in a dress that one might swear The whole was made of woven air, Pert Fashion spreads her senseless sway Over the giddy and the gay (Who think, by showing all their charms,...