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WRITTEN AT MIDNIGHT.
While thro' the broken pane the tempest sighs,
Go-you may call it madness, folly ;
Oh, if you knew the pensive pleasure
TO THE FRAGMENT OF A STATUE OF HERCULES,
Τ Η Ε
And dost thou still, thou mass of breathing stone,
* In the gardens of the Vatican, where it was placed by Julius II., it was long the favourite study of those great men to whom we owe the revival of the arts, Michael Angelo, Raphael, and the Caracci.
+ Once in the possession of Praxiteles, if we may believe an ancient epigram on the Gnidian Venus.- Analecta Vet. Poetarum, III. 200.
MINE be a cot beside the hill ;
The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch,
Around my ivy'd porch shall spring
In russet gown
The village-church, among the trees, Where first our marriage-vows were given, With merry peals shall swell the breeze, And point with taper spire to heaven.
TO THE GNAT.
When by the green-wood side, at summer eve, Poetic visions charm my closing eye ; And fairy-scenes, that fancy loves to weave, Shift to wild notes of sweetest minstrelsy; 'Tis thine to range in busy quest of prey, Thy feathery antlers quivering with delight, Brush from my lids the hues of heaven away, And all is Solitude, and all is Night! -Ah now thy barbed shaft, relentless fly, Unsheaths its terrors in the sultry air ! No guardian sylph, in golden panoply, Lifts the broad shield, and points the glittering spear. Now near and nearer rush thy whirring wings, Thy dragon-scales still wet with human gore. Hark, thy shrill horn its fearful larum flings! -I wake in horror, and dare sleep no more!
ON A ROBIN-REDBREAST.*
Tread lightly here, for here, 'tis said,
* Inscribed on an urn in the lower-garden at Hafod.