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....
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,...
Tell me, thou grotto! o'er whose brow are seen Projecting plumes, and shades of deep'ning green, - While not a sound disturbs thy stony hall, While all thy dewy drops forget to fall, -...
Adieu! dear girl! if we are doom'd to part, Take with thee, take, the blessing of this heart, Due to thy gentle mind, and cultur'd sense; Perhaps 'twill please, but, sure, can't give offence....
Go, faithless bloom! on Delia's cheek Your boasted captivations try; Alas! o'er Nature would you seek To gain one moment's victory? Her softer tint, sweet look, and gentle air,...
Dire were the horrors of that ruthless storm, That for young Lycid form'd a wat'ry grave; Oh! many wept to see his fainting form Unaided sink beneath th' o'erwhelming wave. ...
Hier rees die groote zon, en ging te Bazel onder! De Rykstad eer' en vier' dien Heilig in zyn grav; Dit tweede leeven geevt, die't eerste leeven gav:...
In Mousseau's sweet Arcadian dale Fair Delphine pours the plaintive strain; She charms the list'ning nightingale, And seems th' enchantress of the plain.