My former hopes are fled, My terror now begins; I feel, alas! that I am dead In trespasses and sins. Ah, whither shall I fly?

These verses also to thy praise th… Oh Manso! happy in that theme des… For, Gallus and Maecenas gone, th… None such besides, or whom they lo… And, if my verse may give the meed…

Tears flow, and cease not, where t… Till all who know him follow to th… Tears therefore fall where Cheste… Him wife, friends, brothers, child… And justly—few shall ever him tran…

Though nature weigh our talents, a… To every man his modicum of sense, And Conversation in its better pa… May be esteem’d a gift, and not an… Yet much depends, as in the tiller…

Bid adieu, my sad heart, bid adieu… Thy pleasure is past, and thy sorr… See the shadows of evening how far… And a long night is coming, that n… For the sun is now set that enlive…

Did not my Muse (what can she les… Perceive her own unworthiness, Could she by some well-chosen them… But hope to merit your esteem, She would not thus conceal her lay…

THE noon was shady, and soft airs Swept Ouse’s silent tide, When, 'scap’d from literary cares, I wander’d on his side. My spaniel, prettiest of his race,

In these sad hours, a prey to ceas… While feverish pulses leap in ever… When each faint breath the last sh… Of life just parting from my feebl… How wild soe’er my wandering thoug…

Fond youth! who dream’st that hoar… Is needful not alone to pay For all thy various items sold, To serve the wants of every day; Bread, vinegar, and oil, and meat,

... Thou know’st my praise of nature m… And that my raptures are not conju… To serve occasions of poetic pomp, But genuine, and art partner of th…

The lover, in melodious verses, His singular distress rehearses; Still closing with a rueful cry, ‘Was ever such a wretch as I!’ Yes! thousands have endured before

He who sits from day to day Where the prisoned lark is hung, Heedless of his loudest lay, Hardly knows that he has sung. Where the watchman in his round

Oh loved! but not enough—though de… Than self and its most loved enjoy… None duly loves thee, but who, nob… From sensual objects, finds his al… Glory of God! thou stranger here…

They call thee rich—I deem thee p… Since, if thou darest not use thy… But savest only for thine heirs, The treasure is not thine, but the…

Praise in old time the sage Prome… Who stole ethereal radiance from t… But greater he, whose bold inventi… To emulate the fiery bolts of Jov…