TO mute and to material things New life revolving summer brings; The genial call dead Nature hears… And in her glory reappears. But oh, my Country’s wintry state

Call it not vain;-they do not err, Who say, that when the Poet dies, Mute Nature mourns her worshipper… And celebrates his obsequies: Who say, tall cliff and cavern lon…

O, Brignall banks are wild and fa… And Greta woods are green, And you may gather garlands there, Would grace a summer queen: And as I rode by Dalton Hall,

Thy hue, dear pledge, is pure and… As in that well - remember’d night When first thy mystic braid was wo… And first my Agnes whisper’d love… Since then how often hast thou pre…

Stranger! if e’er thine ardent ste… The northern realms of ancient Ca… Where the proud Queen of Wilderne… By lake and cataract, her lonely t… Sublime but sad delight thy soul h…

When Israel, of the Lord beloved, Out from the land of bondage came, Her father’s God before her moved… An awful Guide, in smoke and flam… By day, along the astonished lands

“Have, then, thy wish!”—he whistle… And he was answer’d from the hill; Wild as the scream of the curlew, From crag to crag the signal flew. Instant, through copse and heath,

Stern eagle of the far north-west, Thou that bearest in thy grasp the… Thou whose rushing pinions stir oc… Thou the destroyer of herds, thou… Amidst the scream of thy rage,

Addressed to the Right Hon. Lady… When princely Hamilton’s abode Ennobled Cadyow’s Gothic towers, The song went round, the goblet fl… And revel sped the laughing hours.

Night and morning were at meeting Over Waterloo; Cocks had sung their earliest gree… Faint and low they crew, For no paly beam yet shone

When dark December glooms the day… And takes our autumn joys away; When short and scant the sunbeam t… Upon the weary waste of snows, A cold and profitless regard,

The Forest of Glenmore is drear, It is all of black pine, and the d… And the midnight wind to the mount… Is whistling the forest lullaby: The moon looks through the driftin…

O listen, listen, ladies gay! No haughty feat of arms I tell; Soft is the note, and sad the lay That mourns the lovely Rosabelle. ‘Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant…

Frederick leaves the land of Fran… Homeward hastes his steps to measu… Careless casts the parting glance On the scene of former pleasure. Joying in his prancing steed,

Ah! County Guy, the hour is nigh, The sun has left the lea, The orange flower perfumes the bow… The breeze is on the sea. The lark his lay who thrill’d all…