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bend bids blest breast breathe bright busy Callid calm cell charm close delight dreams drew dwell face Fancy fathers fearful feeling fled flows fond forms glows green grove hand happiness hears heart heav'n Hence High hope hues human hung inspire light live look lost lov'd magic mark meet melts Memory mind Muse native nature night Note o'er objects once pass pensive play pleasing pleasure pure rapture rich rise round rude scene secret sense shade shed shine sigh silent sleep smile soft soon soul sphere spirit spring steals step sweet tears tell thee thine thou thought thro trace trees triumphs truth Turns Twas vale various Virtue wake walls wave weep wild wing wise wish youth
Page 107 - But little do men perceive what solitude is, and how far it extendeth. For a crowd is not company, and faces are but a gallery of pictures, and talk but a tinkling cymbal, where there is no love.
Page 28 - Tho' all, that knew him, know his face no more, His faithful dog shall tell his joy to each, With that mute eloquence which passes speech.— And see, the master but returns to die! Yet who shall bid the watchful servant fly ? The blasts of heaven, the drenching dews of earth, The wanton insults of unfeeling mirth, These, when to guard Misfortune's sacred grave, Will firm Fidelity exult to brave.
Page 37 - SWEET MEMORY, wafted by thy gentle gale, Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail, To view the fairy-haunts of long-lost hours, Blest with far greener shades, far fresher flowers.
Page 146 - Tho' shut so close thy laughing eyes, Thy rosy lips still wear a smile And move, and breathe delicious sighs ! Ah, now soft blushes tinge her cheeks And mantle o'er her neck of snow : Ah, now she murmurs, now she speaks What most I wish— and fear to know ! She starts, she trembles, and she weeps ! Her fair hands folded on her breast : — And now, how like a saint she sleeps ! A seraph in the realms of rest ! Sleep on secure ! Above...
Page 153 - That breathe a gale of fragrance round, I charm the fairy-footed hours With my loved lute's romantic sound ; Or crowns of living laurel weave, For those that win the race at eve. The shepherd's horn at break of day, The ballet...
Page 79 - Memory!— oh! supremely blest, And justly proud beyond a Poet's praise ; If the pure confines of thy tranquil breast Contain, indeed, the subject of thy lays ! By me how envied ! — for to me. The herald still of misery, Memory makes her influence known By sighs, and tears, and grief alone ; I greet her as the fiend, to whom belong The vulture's ravening beak, the raven's funeral song.
Page 64 - When thy last look, ere thought and feeling fled, A mingled gleam of hope and triumph shed; What to thy soul its glad assurance gave, Its hope in death, its triumph o'er the grave? The sweet Remembrance of unblemished youth, The still inspiring voice of Innocence and Truth!
Page 21 - As summer-clouds flash forth electric fire. And hence this spot gives back the joys of youth, Warm as the life, and with the mirror's truth. Hence home-felt pleasure prompts the Patriot's sigh ; This makes him wish to live, and dare to die. For this young...
Page 151 - A Wish MINE be a cot beside the hill; A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear; A willowy brook that turns a mill, With many a fall shall linger near. The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch Shall twitter from her clay-built nest; Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch, And share my meal, a welcome guest. Around my ivied porch shall spring Each fragrant flower