As on a hill-top rude, when closin… Imbrowns the scene, some past’ral… Waters a lovely foreign plant with… That scarcely can its tender bud d… Borne from its native genial airs…

I am fond of the swallow—I learn… Had I skill to improve it, a less… How seldom on earth do we see her… She dwells in the skies, she is ev… It is on the wing that she takes h…

Deem not, sweet rose, that bloom’s… Thy friend, tho’ to a cloister’s s… Can e’er forget the charms he left… Or pass unheeded this auspicious m… In happier days to brighter prospe…

... England, with all thy faults, I l… My country! and, while yet a nook… Where English minds and manners m… Shall be constrain’d to love thee.…

No strength of nature can suffice To serve the Lord aright: And what she has she misapplies, For want of clearer light. How long beneath the law I lay

(Matthew, XIII.3) Ye sons of earth prepare the ploug… Break up your fallow ground; The sower is gone forth to sow, And scatter blessings round.

Naples, too credulous, ah! boast n… The sweet-voiced Siren buried on… That, when Parthenope deceas’d, s… Her sacred dust to a Chalcidic gr… For still she lives, but has excha…

Sleep at last has fled these eyes, Nor do I regret his flight, More alert my spirits rise, And my heart is free and light. Nature silent all around,

To purify their wine some people b… A lamb into the barrel, and succee… No nostrum, planters say, is half… To make fine sugar, as a negro’s b… Now lambs and negroes both are har…

God gives his mercies to be spent; Your hoard will do your soul no go… Gold is a blessing only lent, Repaid by giving others food. The world’s esteem is but a bribe,

Contemplate, when the sun declines… Thy death with deep reflection! And when again he rising shines, The day of resurrection!

I sing the Sofa. I who lately san… Truth, Hope, and Charity, and tou… The solemn chords, and with a trem… Escaped with pain from that advent… Now seek repose upon an humbler th…

Hic etiam jacet, Qui totum novennium vixit, Puss. Siste paulisper, Qui præteriturus es,

From thorny wilds a monster came, That filled my soul with fear and… The birds, forgetful of their mirt… Drooped at the sight, and fell to… When thus a sage addressed mine ea…

A raven, while with glossy breast Her new-laid eggs she fondly press… And, on her wicker-work high mount… Her chickens prematurely counted (A fault philosophers might blame,