These locks, which fondly thus ent… In firmer chains our hearts confin… Than all th’ unmeaning protestatio… Which swell with nonsense love ora… Our love is fix’d, I think we’ve…

'Twas after dread Pultowa’s day, When fortune left the royal Swede… Around a slaughtered army lay, No more to combat and to bleed. The power and glory of the war,

‘Sulpicia ad Cerinthum.’—Lib. iv. Cruel Cerinthus! does the fell di… Which racks my breast your fickle… Alas! I wish’d but to o’ercome th… That I might live for love and yo…

Good plays are scarce: So Moore writes farce. The poet’s fame grows brittle— We knew before That Little’s Moore,

Hail, Muse! et cetera.—We left J… Pillow’d upon a fair and happy bre… And watch’d by eyes that never yet… And loved by a young heart, too de… To feel the poison through her spi…

Stranger! behold, interr’d togethe… The souls of learning and of leath… Poor Joe is gone, but left his al… You’ll find his relics in a stall. His works were neat, and often fou…

And thou art dead, as young and fa… As aught of mortal birth; And form so soft, and charms so ra… Too soon return’d to Earth! Though Earth received them in her…

Hills of Annesley, bleak and barr… Where my thoughtless childhood str… How the northern tempests, warring… Howl above thy tufted shade! Now no more, the hours beguiling,

'Twas now the hour when Night had… Her car half round yon sable heave… Boötes, only, seem’d to roll His arctic charge around the pole; While mortals, lost in gentle slee…

Rousseau—Voltaire—our Gibbon—De… Leman! these names are worthy of t… Thy shore of names like these! wer… Their memory thy remembrance would… To them thy banks were lovely as t…

Oh! mihi præteritos referat si J… Ye scenes of my childhood, whose l… Embitters the present, compar’d wi… Where science first dawn’d on the… And friendships were form’d, too r…