You've read, sir, in poetic strain, How Varus and the Mantuan swain Have on my birth-day been invited, (But I was forced in verse to write it,) Upon a plain repast to dine,...
Shall then my kindred all my glory claim, And boldly rob me of eternal fame? To every art my gen'rous aid I lend, To music, painting, poetry, a friend. 'Tis I celestial harmony inspire,...
I am monarch of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute; From the centre all round to the sea I am lord of the fowl and the brute. O Solitude! where are the charms...
Time, since thou gav'st this flow'r to me, Has often turn'd his glass of sand; Perchance 'tis now unknown to thee That once its breath perfum'd thy hand.
Are the guests of this house still doom'd to be cheated? Sure the Fates have decreed they by halves should be treated. In the days of good John[1] if you came here to dine,...
The days of a man are threescore years and ten. The days of his life were half a man's, whom we Lament, and would yet not bid him back, to be Partaker of all the woes and ways of men....
Sea and land are fairer now, nor aught is all the same, Since a mightier hand than Time's hath woven their votive wreath. Rocks as swords half drawn from out the smooth wave's jewelled sheath,...
Thy soul shall find itself alone Alone of all on earth, unknown The cause, but none are near to pry Into thine hour of secrecy. Be silent in that solitude, Which is not loneliness, for then...
A mask, a perpetual natural disguiser of herself, Concealing her face, concealing her form, Changes and transformations every hour, every moment, Falling upon her even when she sleeps.
'As a matter of fact, no man living, or who ever lived, not C'sar or Pericles, not Shakespeare or Michael Angelo, could confer honour more than he took on entering the House of Lords.' - Saturday Review, December 15, 1883....
Could there be words found to expresse my losse, There were some hope, that this my heauy crosse Might be sustained, and that wretched I Might once finde comfort: but to haue him die...
Accursed Death, what neede was there at all Of thee, or who to councell thee did call; The subiect whereupon these lines I spend For thee was most vnfit, her timelesse end...
Canst thou depart and be forgotten so, STANHOPE thou canst not, no deare STANHOPE, no: But in despight of death the world shall see, That Muse which so much graced was by thee...
I many a time haue greatly marueil'd, why Men say, their friends depart when as they die, How well that word, a dying, doth expresse, I did not know (I freely must confesse,)...
Light Sonnets hence, and to loose Louers flie, And mournfull Maydens sing an Elegie On those three SHEFFIELDS, ouer-whelm'd with waues, Whose losse the teares of all the Muses craues;...
Days git wa'm an' wa'mah, School gits mighty dull, Seems lak dese hyeah teachahs Mus' feel mussiful. Hookey's wrong, I know it Ain't no gent'man's trick; But de aih's a-callin',...
Lawzy! don't I rickollect That-'air old swing in the lane! Right and proper, I expect, Old times can't come back again; But I want to state, ef they Could come back, and I could say...