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, ...
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.
Oh! form'd to prompt the smile or tear, At once so sweet, yet so severe! As much for you as him I grieve; Ah! thoughtless! if you thus can leave A mind with wit and learning bright,...
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. ...
A wreath from an immortal bough Should deck that gen'rous victor's brow, Who hears his captive's grateful praise Augment the thanks his country pays; For him the minstrel's song shall flow,...
Think not, thou pride of Summer's softest strain! Sweet dress of Nature, in her virgin bloom! That thou hast flutter'd to the breeze in vain, Or unlamented found thy native tomb. ...
Time, since thou gav'st this flow'r to me, Has often turn'd his glass of sand; Perchance 'tis now unknown to thee That once its breath perfum'd thy hand.