Sacred to Pity! is upraised this stone, The humble tribute of a friend unknown; To grant the beauteous wreck its hallow'd claim, And add to misery's scroll another name....
Bring the sad cypress wreath to grace the tomb, Where rests the liberal friend of human kind, Around its base let deathless flow'rets bloom, Wet with the off'rings of the grateful mind. ...
How oft have I seen her upon the sea-shore, While tearful, her face, she would hide, In sad silence the loss of the Sailor deplore Who from infancy call'd her his bride, ...
Who stops the Minister of State, When hurrying to the Lords' debate? Who, spite of gravity beguiles, The solemn Bishop of his smiles? See from the window, "burly big," The Judge pops out his awful wig,...
Oh! had'st thou, Jove! with adamantine locks Fix'd fast the springs of poor Pandora's box, Then had she, bright enchantment! bloom'd for ever In all the charms consenting Gods could give her--...
Beautiful Boy--thy heavenward thoughts Are pictured in thine eyes, Thou hast no taint of mortal birth, Thy communing is not of earth, Thy holy musings rise: Like incense kindled from on high,...
Meek Maid! that sitting on yon lofty tower, View'st the calm floods that wildly beat below, Be off! yon sunbeam veils a heavy shower, Which sets my heart with joy a aching, oh!...
Light as the breeze that hails the infant morn The Milkmaid trips, as o'er her arm she slings Her cleanly pail, some fav'rite lay she sings As sweetly wild and cheerful as the horn....
Sweet wreck of loveliness! alas, how soon The sad brief summer of thy joys hath fled: How sorrows Friendship for thy hapless doom, Thy beauty faded, and thy hopes all dead....
Sweet songstress! whom the melancholy Muse With more than fondness loved, for thee she strung The lyre, on which herself enraptured hung, And bade thee through the world its sweets diffuse....
To thy unhappy courts a lonely guest I come, corroding Melancholy, where, Sequester'd from the world, this woe-worn breast May yet indulge a solitary tear!...
Hail! Heavenly Maid, my pensive mind, Invokes thy woe-subduing strain; For there a shield my soul can find, Which subjugates each dagger'd pain. When beauty spurns the lover's sighs,...
Sweet are the hours when roseate spring With health and joy salutes the day. When zephyr, borne on wanton wing, Soft whispering, wakes the blushing May. Sweet are the hours, yet not so sweet...
Thou art indeed a lovely flower, And I, just like the fleeting hour, Which few will heed on folly's brink, So rarely deigns the world to think. Yet, ere I go, child of my heart--...
Oh! is there not in infant smiles A witching power, a cheering ray, A charm, that every care beguiles, And bids the weary soul be gay? There surely is--for thou hast been,...