Madam,'A stranger's purpose in these lays Is to congratulate, and not to praise. To give the creature the Creator's due Were sin in me, and an offence to you. From man to man, or e'en to woman paid,...
I ransack'd for a theme of song, Much ancient chronicle, and long; I read of bright embattled fields, Of trophied helmets, spears, and shields, Of chiefs, whose single arm could boast...
Where Humber pours his rich commercial stream There dwelt a wretch, who breathed but to blaspheme; In subterraneous caves his life he led, Black as the mine in which he wrought for bread....
Silent I sat, dejected, and alone, Making in thought the public woes my own, When, first, arose the image in my breast Of England's sufferings by that scourge, the pest.[3]...
Thee, whose refulgent staff and summons clear, Minerva's flock longtime was wont t'obey, Although thyself an herald, famous here, The last of heralds, Death, has snatch'd away....
At length, my friend, the far-sent letters come, Charged with thy kindness, to their destin'd home, They come, at length, from Deva's[2] Western side, Where prone she seeks the salt Vergivian tide.[3]...
Hence, my epistle--skim the Deep--fly o'er Yon smooth expanse to the Teutonic shore! Haste--lest a friend should grieve for thy delay-- And the Gods grant that nothing thwart thy way!...
Who sent the Author a poetical epistle, in which he requested that his verses, if not so good as usual, might be excused on account of the many feasts to which his friends invited him, and which would not allow him leisure to f...
To purify their wine, some people bleed A lamb into the barrel, and succeed; No nostrum, planters say, is half so good To make fine sugar as a negro's blood. Now lambs and negroes both are harmless things,...
Poets attempt the noblest task they can, Praising the Author of all good in man, And, next, commemorating worthies lost, The dead in whom that good abounded most....
Here, free from riot's hated noise, Be mine, ye calmer, purer joys, A book or friend bestows; Far from the storms that shake the great, Contentment's gale shall fan my seat, And sweeten my repose.
Other stones the era tell When some feeble mortal fell; I stand here to date the birth Of these hardy sons of earth. Which shall longest brave the sky,...
Pause here and think: a monitory rhyme Demands one moment of thy fleeting time. Consult life's silent clock, thy bounding vein; Seems it to say''Health here has long to reign?'...
Sometimes a light surprises The Christian while he sings; It is the Lord who rises With healing in his wings: When comforts are declining, He grants the soul again A season of clear shining,...