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...
Clysdale! as thy romantic vales I leave, And bid farewell to each retiring hill, Where musing memory seems to linger still, Tracing the broad bright landscape; much I grieve...
The spring shall visit thee again, Itchin! and yonder ancient fane,[1] That casts its shadow on thy breast, As if, by many winters beat, The blooming season it would greet,...
Yes, Pamela, this infant tree Planted in sacred earth by thee, Shall strike its root, and pleasant grow Whilst I am mouldering dust below. This churchyard turf shall still be green,...
Mortal! who, armed with holy fortitude, The path of good right onward hast pursued; May HE, to whose eternal throne on high The sufferers of the earth with anguish cry, Be thy protector! On that dreary road...
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 -...
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...
When I was sitting, sad, and all alone, Remembering youth and love for ever fled, And many friends now resting with the dead, While the still summer's light departing shone,...
Artist, I own thy genius; but the touch May be too restless, and the glare too much: And sure none ever saw a landscape shine, Basking in beams of such a sun as thine, But felt a fervid dew upon his phiz,...
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...
Frown ever opposite, the angel cried, Who, with an earthquake's might and giant hand, Severed these riven rocks, and bade them stand Severed for ever! The vast ocean-tide,...
The morning shone on Tagus' rocky side, And airs of summer swelled the yellow tide, When, rising from his melancholy bed, And faint, and feebly by Antonio[2] led, Poor Camoens, subdued by want and woe,...
'Twas when, O meekest eve! thy shadows dim Were slowly stealing round, With more impassioned sound Divine Cecilia sang her vesper hymn, And swelled the solemn chord In hallelujahs to thy name, O Lord!...
Fair inmate of these ivied walls, beneath Whose silent cloisters Ella sleeps in death, Let loftier bards, in rich and glowing lays, Thy gentleness, thy grace, thy virtue praise!...