To him, who, many a night upon the main, At mid-watch, from the bounding vessel's side, Shivering, has listened to the rocking tide, Oh, how delightful smile thy views again,...
Christian! for none who scorns that holy name Can gaze with honest eyes on Southey's fame; Christian! bow down thy head in humble fear, And think what God-given powers lie silenced here:...
Stranger! a while beneath this aged tree Rest thee, the hills beyond, and flowery meads, Surveying; and if Nature's charms may wake A sweet and silent transport at thine heart,...
The morning wakes in shadowy mantle gray, The darksome woods their glimmering skirts unfold, Prone from the cliff the falcon wheels her way, And long and loud the bell's slow chime is tolled. ...
Nay, let us gaze, ev'n till the sense is full, Upon the rich creation, shadowed so That not great Nature, in her loftiest pomp Of living beauty, ever on the sight Rose more magnificent; nor aught so fair...
If I could bid thee, pleasant shade, farewell Without a sigh, amidst whose circling bowers My stripling prime was passed, and happiest hours, Dead were I to the sympathies that swell...
Farewell! a long farewell! O Poverty, Affection's fondest dream how hast thou reft! But though, on thy stern brow no trace is left Of youthful joys, that on the cold heart die,...
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,...
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...
I never hear the sound of thy glad bells, Oxford, and chime harmonious, but I say, Sighing to think how time has worn away, Some spirit speaks in the sweet tone that swells,...
Monastic and time-consecrated fane! Thou hast put on thy shapely state again, Almost august as in thy early day, Ere ruthless Henry rent thy pomp away. No more the mass on holidays is sung,...
I turn these leaves with thronging thoughts, and say, Alas! how many friends of youth are dead; How many visions of fair hope have fled, Since first, my Muse, we met. So speeds away...
Not that thy name, illustrious dome! recalls The pomp of chivalry in bannered halls, The blaze of beauty, and the gorgeous sights Of heralds, trophies, steeds, and crested knights;...
While summer airs scarce breathe along the tide, Oft pausing, up the mountain's craggy side We climb, how beautiful, how still, how clear, The scenes that stretch around! The rocks that rear...
'Twas morn, and beauteous on the mountain's brow (Hung with the clusters of the bending vine) Shone in the early light, when on the Rhine We bounded, and the white waves round the prow...
Why mourns the ingenuous Moralist, whose mind Science has stored, and Piety refined, That fading Chivalry displays no more Her pomp and stately tournaments of yore! Lo! when Philosophy and Truth advance,...
Cherwell! how pleased along thy willowed edge Erewhile I strayed, or when the morn began To tinge the distant turret's golden fan, Or evening glimmered o'er the sighing sedge!...
While slowly wanders thy sequestered stream, WAINSBECK, the mossy-scattered rocks among, In fancy's ear making a plaintive song To the dark woods above, that waving seem...