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:...
There was a morrice on the moonlight plain, And music echoed in the woody glade, For fay-like forms, as of Titania's train, Upon a summer eve, beneath the shade Of Netley's ivied ruins, to the sound...
Mark, where the beetling precipice appears, The toil of the old fisher, gray with years; Mark, as to drag the laden net he strains, The labouring muscle and the swelling veins!...
Where were ye, nymphs, when Daphnis drooped with love? In fair Peneus' Tempe, or the grove Of Pindus! Nor your pastimes did ye keep, Where huge Anapus' torrent waters sweep;...
Oh! hide those tempting eyes, that faultless form, Those looks with feeling and with nature warm; The neck, the softly-swelling bosom hide, Nor, wanton gales, blow the light vest aside;...
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:...
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,...
How shall I praise thee, Beaumont, whose nice skill Can mould the soft and shadowy scene at will; Chastise to harmony each gaudy ray, Simple, yet grand, the mountain scene display;...
How clear a strife of light and shade is spread! The face how touched with nature's loveliest red! The eye, how eloquent, and yet how meek! The glow subdued, yet mantling on thy cheek!...
England, a long farewell! a long farewell, My country, to thy woods, and streams, and hills! Where I have heard in youth the Sabbath bell, For many a year now mute: affection fills...
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...
Languid, and sad, and slow, from day to day I journey on, yet pensive turn to view, Where the rich landscape gleams with softer hue, The streams, and vales, and hills, that steal away....
Spirit of beauty, and of heavenly song! No longer seek in vain, 'mid the loud throng, 'Mid the discordant tumults of mankind, One spirit, gentle as thyself, to find. ...
Oh, stay, harmonious and sweet sounds, that die In the long vaultings of this ancient fane! Stay, for I may not hear on earth again Those pious airs, that glorious harmony;...
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,...