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…

Maiden! wrap thy mantle round thee… Cold the rain beats on thy breast: Why should Horror’s voice astound… Death can bid the wretched rest! All under the tree

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…

Lofft, unto thee one tributary son… The simple Muse, admiring, fain w… She longs to lisp thee to the list… And with thy name to bid the woodl… Fain would she blazon all thy virt…

Sublime, emerging from the misty v… Of the horizon dim, thee, Moon, I… As, sweeping o’er the leafless gro… Seems to repeat the year’s funerea… Now Autumn sickens on the languid…

Mary, the moon is sleeping on thy… And on the turf thy lover sad is k… The big tear in his eye.-Mary, aw… From thy dark house arise, and ble… On the pale moonbeam gliding. Sof…

Thou simple Lyre! thy music wild Has served to charm the weary hour… And many a lonely night has 'guile… When even pain has own’d, and smil… Its fascinating power.

Hence, away, vindictive thought; Thy pictures are of pain; The visions through thy dark eye c… They with no gentle charms are fra… So pr’y thee back again.

PART I. Pictured in memory’s mellowing gla… Our infant days, our infant joys,… To roam in fancy in each cherish’d… The village churchyard, and the vi…

I. 1. Retired, remote from human noise, An humble Poet dwelt serene; His lot was lowly, yet his joys Were manifold, I ween.

Saw’st thou that light? exclaim’d… Through yon dark firs it glanced,… That skirts the woods it for a mom… Again, more light it gleam’d,-or d… Delude mine eyes with shapes of wo…

Hence to thy darkest shades, dire… Thine icy touch can freeze, Swift as the Polar breeze The proud defying port of human se… Hence to thine Indian cave,

Season of general rest, whose sole… Strikes to the trembling heart a f… But speaks to philosophic souls de… Thee do I hail, as at my casement… My candle waning melancholy by,

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;

Sweet scented flower! who art wont… On January’s front severe, And o’er the wintry desert drear To waft thy waste perfume! Come, thou shalt form my nosegay n…