Some to Aonian lyres of silver so… With winning elegance attune their… Form’d to sink lightly on the soot… And charm the soul with softest ha… ’Tis then that Hope with sanguine…

I. 1. Many there be, who, through the va… With velvet pace, unnoticed, softl… While jarring discord’s inharmonio… Awakes them not to woe.

Ill-fated maid, in whose unhappy t… Chill poverty and misery are seen, Anguish and discontent, the unhapp… Of life, and blackener of each bri… Why to thy votaries dost thou give…

Lady, thou weepest for the Maniac… And thou art fair, and thou, like… Oh! may thy bosom never, never kno… The pangs with which my wretched h… I had a mother once– a brother too…

Thou base repiner at another’s joy… Whose eye turns green at merit not… Oh, far away from generous Briton… And find on meaner climes a fitter… Away, away, it shall not be,

Thy judgments, Lord, are just; th… The face of pity and of love divin… But mine is guilt-thou must not, c… While heaven is true, and equity i… Yes, oh my God!-such crimes as mi…

As thus oppressed with many a heav… (Though young yet sorrowful), I t… To the dark woodland, longing much… The form of peace, if chance she s… Deep thought and dismal, verging t…

And canst thou, Mother, for a mom… That we, thy children, when old ag… Its blanching honours on thy weary… Could from our best of duties ever… Sooner the sun from his high spher…

Beams of the daybreak faint! I ha… Your dubious hues, as on the robe Of night, which wraps the slumberi… I mark your traces pale. Tired with the taper’s sickly ligh…

Why should I blush to own I love? ’Tis Love that rules the realms a… Why should I blush to say to all, That Virtue holds my heart in thr… Why should I seek the thickest sh…

He sunk, the impetuous river roll’… The sullen wave betray’d his dying… And rising sad the rustling sedge… The gale of evening touch’d the co… Nymph of the Trent! why didst tho…

Lo! in the west, fast fades the li… And day’s last vestige takes its s… No more is heard the woodman’s mea… Which with the dawn from yonder di… No more, hoarse clamouring o’er th…

When pride and envy, and the scorn Of wealth my heart with gall imbue… I thought how pleasant were the mo… Of silence, in the solitude; To hear the forest bee on wing;

When the winter wind whistles alon… And the cottager shuts on the begg… When the chilling tear stands in m… Oh, how hard is the lot of the Wa… The winter is cold, and I have no…

Oh, Warton! to thy soothing shell… Stretch’d remote in hermit cell, Where the brook runs babbling by, For ever I could listening lie; And catching all the muses’ fire,