Oh, hadst thou fall'n, brave youth! on that proud day,[1] When our victorious fleet o'er the red surge Rolled in terrific glory, thou hadst fall'n Most honoured; and Remembrance, while she thought...
Thou, whose stern spirit loves the storm, That, borne on Terror's desolating wings, Shakes the high forest, or remorseless flings The shivered surge; when rising griefs deform...
The tide of fate rolls on! heart-pierced and pale, The gallant soldier lies,[1] nor aught avail, The shield, the sword, the spirit of the brave, From rapine's armed hand thy vales to save,...
When anxious Spain, along her rocky shore, From cliff to cliff returned the sea-fight's roar; When flash succeeding flash, tremendous broke The haze incumbent, and the clouds of smoke,...
Turn to Britannia's triumphs on the main: See Nelson, pale and fainting, 'mid the slain, Whilst Victory sighs, stern in the garb of war, And points through clouds the rocks of Trafalgar!...
Peace, oh! peace, be to the shade Of him who here in earth is laid: Saints and spirits of the blessed, Look upon his bed of rest; Forgive his sins, propitious be; Dona pacem, Domine,...
Yes! from mine eyes the tears unbidden start, As thee, my country, and the long-lost sight Of thy own cliffs, that lift their summits white Above the wave, once more my beating heart...
On these white cliffs, that calm above the flood Uprear their shadowing heads, and at their feet Hear not the surge that has for ages beat, How many a lonely wanderer has stood!...
When I lie musing on my bed alone, And listen to the wintry waterfall;[1] And many moments that are past and gone, Moments of sunshine and of joy, recall;
Lo! where youth and beauty lie, Cold within the tomb! As the spring's first violets die, Withered in their bloom. O'er the young and buried bride, Let the cypress wave:...
Through the wood's maze our eyes delighted stray, To mark the rustics on the market-day. Beneath the branches winds the long white road; Here peeps the rustic cottager's abode;...
Oh! I should ill thy generous cares requite Thou who didst first inspire my timid Muse, Could I one tuneful tear to thee refuse, Now that thine aged eyes are closed in night,...
Fountain, that sparklest through the shady place, Making a soft, sad murmur o'er the stones That strew thy lucid way! Oh, if some guest Should haply wander near, with slow disease...
Alas, poor Sheridan! when first we met, 'Twas 'mid a smiling circle, and thine eye, That flashed with eloquent hilarity And playful fancy, I remember yet Freshly as yesterday. The gay and fair,...
Sainted old man, for more than eighty years, Thee - tranquilly and stilly-creeping - age, Led to the confines of the sepulchre, And thy last day on earth - but "Father - Lord -...
Thou camest with kind looks, when on the brink Almost of death I strove, and with mild voice Didst soothe me, bidding my poor heart rejoice, Though smitten sore: Oh, I did little think...
Poor Linley! I shall miss thee sadly, now Thou art not in the world; for few remain Who loved like thee the high and holy strain Of harmony's immortal master. Thou...
So passes silent o'er the dead thy shade, Brief Time; and hour by hour, and day by day, The pleasing pictures of the present fade, And like a summer vapour steal away! ...