In this mimic form of a matron in… How plainly the pencil of Denner… The matron herself, in whose old a… Not a trace of decline, what a won… No dimness of eye, and no cheek ha…

Oh happy shades—to me unblest! Friendly to peace, but not to me! How ill the scene that offers rest… And heart that cannot rest, agree! This glassy stream, that spreading…

Long plunged in sorrow, I resign My soul to that dear hand of thine… Without reserve or fear; That hand shall wipe my streaming… Or into smiles of glad surprise

Oh! to some distant scene, a willi… From the wild roar of this busy wo… Were it my fate with Delia to ret… With her to wander through the syl… Each morn, or o’er the moss-embrow…

Forc’d from home and all its pleas… Afric’s coast I left forlorn; To increase a stranger’s treasures… O’er the raging billows borne; Men from England bought and sold…

Ah! reign, wherever man is found! My spouse, beloved and divine! Then I am rich, and I abound, When every human heart is thine. A thousand sorrows pierce my soul,

William was once a bashful youth, His modesty was such, That one might say, to say the tru… He rather had too much. Some said that it was want of sens…

Time was when I was free as air, The thistle’s downy seed my fare, My drink the morning dew; I perch’d at will on every spray, My form genteel, my plumage gay,

Thus Italy was moved—nor did the… Æneas in his mind less tumult feel… On every side his anxious thought… Restless, unfix’d, not knowing whi… And as a cistern that in brim of b…

Mycilla dyes her locks, ’tis said: But ’tis a foul aspersion; She buys them black; they therefor… No subsequent immersion.

(Zecheriah, XIII.1) There is a fountain fill’d with bl… Drawn from Emmanuel’s veins; And sinners, plunged beneath that… Lose all their guilty stains.

Rebellion is my theme all day, I only wish 'twould come (As who knows but perhaps it may) A little nearer home. Yon roaring boys who rave and figh…

Grant me the Muse, ye gods! whose… Seeks not the mountain-top’s perni… Who can the tall Parnassian cliff… To visit oft the still Lethean la… Now her slow pinions brush the sil…

To grass, or leaf, or fruit, or wa… The snail sticks close, nor fears… As if he grew there, house and all Together. Within that house secure he hides,

Thee, whose refulgent staff and su… Minerva’s flock longtime was wont… Although thyself an herald, famous… The last of heralds, Death, has s… He calls on all alike, nor even de…