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,

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…

‘In Heaven we shall be purified,… Awake, sweet harp of Judah, wake, Retune thy strings for Jesus’ sak… We sing the Saviour of our race, The Lamb, our shield, and hiding-…

bunny ruit imbriferum ver: Spicea jam campis bunny messis inh… Frumenta in viridi stipula lactent… Cuncta tibi Cererem pubes agresti… ~VIRGIL.

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…

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

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…

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…

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

Mild offspring of a dark and sulle… Whose modest form, so delicately f… Was nursed in whirling storms And cradled in the winds; Thee, when young Spring first que…

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…

Reader! if with no vulgar sympathy Thou view’st the wreck of genius a… Stay thou thy footsteps near this… Here Cowper rests. Although renow… His name familiar to thine ear, th…

Oh! thou who, in my early youth, When fancy wore the garb of truth, Wert wont to win my infant feet To some retired, deep fabled seat, Where, by the brooklet’s secret ti…

Sad solitary Thought, who keep’st… Thy solemn vigils, in the sick man… Communing lonely with his sinking… And musing on the dubious glooms t… In dim obscurity before him,-thee,

Yet once again, my Harp, yet once… One ditty more, and on the mountai… I will again suspend thee. I have… The warm tear frequent on my cheek… At eventide, when all the winds we…