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Sweet little warbler! art thou dead?
And must I hear thy notes no more?
Then will I make thy funeral bed;
Then shall the Muse thy loss deplore.

Beneath the turf in yonder bower,...

Henceforth at miracles who'll dare to mock?
No wonder Orpheus' lyre could move the brutes,
Or Moses' rod strike water from the rock;
Lo! Shakspeare's genius melts the heart of Nutes,...

Satan, says scripture, like a roaring lion,
Goes about, seeking whom he may devour.
What should a priest, then, chiefly keep his eye on?
To guard his flock against the tempter's power....

Reform! reform! cries out the longing nation;
The people hail their own-elected House;
On tiptoe stands the general expectation:
What the grand doings of the Administration?...

Pale is Amelia's face,
And red Lavinia's nose is;
The sisters ever jar:
'Tis like the civil war
Between the rival roses.

* * * * *
...

Why, when I praise you, Ma'am, why tell me flat,
All flattery you despise?
Self-love, the greatest flatterer, tells you that,
And I am sure he lies.

* * * * *
...

Bury, for practice bold and skill
Deserves to be of note;
He cures by means that well might kill,
He cuts his patient's throat!

* * * * *
...

Champion of justice and humanity,
He toil'd, through life, to set the Negro free:
At length, Britannia spoke the godlike word
Burst were the bonds, the shouts of Freedom heard!...

Crippled his limbs, and sightless are his eyes;
I view the youth, and feel compassion rise.
He sings! how sweet the notes! in pleased amaze
I listen, listen, and admiring gaze....

This, this is inspiration's hour!
Poetic Genius, rushing on my soul,
Rouses her every sense, her every power,
And with a force too mighty to controul
Inspires the warm, enthusiastic song:...

Whence the shouts of public joy,
Whence the galaxies of light,
That strike the deafen'd ear?
That charm the dazzled sight?
While Night, arrested in her highest way,...

Ye scenes beloved! O welcome once again!
Forbidden long to my desiring sight,
Now, now! triumphant o'er disease and pain,
I visit ye with fresh, increased delight.
...

Again has Time his annual circle run,
And April ushers in my natal day:
Since first my infant eyes beheld the sun,
How many a year has swiftly roll'd away!
Full half my thread of life the Fates have spun;...

No longer Beauty's many-colour'd robe
Adorns the autumnal scene; no longer play
The Zephyrs with her tresses; she has fled
To happier regions, and has left the year...