Bewail not much, my parents! me, t… Of ruthless Ades, and sepulchred… An infant, in my fifth scarce fini… He found all sportive, innocent, a… Your young Callimachus; and if I…

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

Honor and happiness unite To make the Christian’s name a pr… How fair the scene, how clear the… That fills the remnant of His day… A kingly character He bears,

Ye sister Pow’rs who o’er the sac… Preside, and, Thou, fair mother o… Mnemosyne, and thou, who in thy gr… Immense reclined at leisure, hast… The Archives and the ord’nances o…

I own I am shocked at the purchas… And fear those who buy them and se… What I hear of their hardships, t… Is almost enough to draw pity from… I pity them greatly, but I must b…

Ye Nymphs of Himera (for ye have… Erewhile for Daphnis and for Hyla… And over Bion’s long-lamented bie… The fruitless meed of many a sacre… Now, through the villas laved by…

The lady thus address’d her spouse… What a mere dungeon is this house! By no means large enough; and was… Yet this dull room, and that dark… Those hangings with their worn-out…

The genius of the Augustan age His head among Rome’s ruins reare… And bursting with heroic rage, When literary Heron appeared, Thou hast, he cried, like him of o…

My God, how perfect are Thy ways! But mine polluted are; Sin twines itself about my praise, And slides into my prayer. When I would speak what Thou hast…

The new-born child of gospel grace… Like some fair tree when summer’s… Beneath Emmanuel’s shining face Lifts up his blooming branch on hi… No fears he feels, he sees no foes…

The shepherd touch’d his reed; swe… Essay’d, and oft essay’d to catch… And treasuring, as on her ear they… The numbers, echo’d note for note… The peevish youth, who ne’er had f…

Hark! ’tis the twanging horn! O’e… That with its wearisome but needfu… Bestrides the wintry flood, in whi… Sees her unwrinkled face reflected… He comes, the herald of a noisy wo…

Muse—hide his name of whom I sing… Lest his surviving house thou brin… For his sake into scorn, Nor speak the school from which he… The much or little that he knew,

Dear President, whose art sublime Gives perpetuity to time, And bids transactions of a day, That fleeting hours would waft awa… To dark futurity, survive,

Far happier are the dead, methinks… Who look for death, and fear it ev…