Let the sublimer Muse, who wrapt… Rides on the raven pennons of the… Or o’er the field with purple havo… Lashes her steeds and sings along… Let her, whom more ferocious strai…

Yet once more, and once more, awak… From silence and neglect-one lofty… Lofty, yet wilder than the winds o… And speaking mysteries more than w… I ask of thee; for I, with hymnin…

Oh! yonder is the well known spot, My dear, my long lost native home! Oh, welcome is yon little cot, Where I shall rest, no more to ro… Oh! I have travell’d far and wide…

So ravishing soft upon the tide Of the infuriate gust, it did care… It might have sooth’d its rugged c… And sunk him to a zephyr; - then i… Melting in melody; - and I descri…

Dear Fanny, I mean, now I’m laid… To give you a sketch-ay, a sketch… ’Tis a pitiful subject, I frankly… And one it would puzzle a painter… But, however, here goes, and as su…

The morning sun’s enchanting rays Now call forth every songster’s pr… Now the lark, with upward flight, Gaily ushers in the light; While wildly warbling from each tr…

Oh! who would cherish life, And cling unto this heavy clog of… Love this rude world of strife, Where glooms and tempests cloud th… And where, 'neath outward smiles,

The western gale, Mild as the kisses of connubial lo… Plays round my languid limbs, as a… Beneath the ancient elm’s fantasti… I lie, exhausted with the noontide…

Yes, once more that dying strain, Anna, touch thy lute for me; Sweet, when pity’s tones complain, Doubly sweet is melody. While the Virtues thus enweave

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…

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…

Sleep, baby mine, enkerchieft on m… Thy cries they pierce again my ble… Sleep, baby mine, not long thou’lt… To lull thee fondly in her arms to… Baby, why dost thou keep this sad…

God help thee, Traveller, on thy… The wind is bitter keen, - the sno… The hidden pits, and dangerous hol… And darkness will involve thee. -… To-night will guide thee, Travell…

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…

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…