JUSTICE hath heaved a sword to plunge in Albion’s breast; for Albion’s sins are crimson dy’d, and the red scourge follows her desolate sons. Then Patriot rose; full oft did Patriot rise...
Little fly, Thy summer’s play My thoughtless hand Has brushed away. Am not I
I heard an Angel singing When the day was springing, “Mercy, Pity, Peace Is the world’s release.” Thus he sung all day
SAMSON, the strongest of the children of men, I sing; how he was foiled by woman’s arts, by a false wife brought to the gates of death! O Truth! that shinest with propitious beams, turn...
Sweet Mary, the first time she ev… Came into the ball—room among the… The young men and maidens around h… And these are the words upon every… `An Angel is here from the heaven…
My mother bore me in the southern… And I am black, but O! my soul is… White as an angel is the English… But I am black, as if bereav’d of… My mother taught me underneath a t…
How sweet I roam’d from field to… And tasted all the summer’s pride, 'Till I the prince of love beheld… Who in the sunny beams did glide! He shew’d me lilies for my hair,
“I have no name: I am but two days old.” What shall I call thee? “I happy am, Joy is my name.”
O AUTUMN, laden with fruit, and… With the blood of the grape, pass… Beneath my shady roof; there thou… And tune thy jolly voice to my fre… And all the daughters of the year…
WHEN the green woods laugh with… And the dimpling stream runs laugh… When the air does laugh with our m… And the green hill laughs with the… When the meadows laugh with lively…
Can I see another’s woe, And not be in sorrow too? Can I see another’s grief, And not seek for kind relief? Can I see a falling tear,
COME, kings, and listen to my so… When Gwin, the son of Nore, Over the nations of the North His cruel sceptre bore; The nobles of the land did feed
‘Nought loves another as itself, Nor venerates another so, Nor is it possible to thought A greater than itself to know. ’And, father, how can I love you
THOU fair-hair’d angel of the ev… Now, whilst the sun rests on the m… Thy bright torch of love; thy radi… Put on, and smile upon our evening… Smile on our loves, and while thou…
My silks and fine array, My smiles and languish’d air, By love are driv’n away; And mournful lean Despair Brings me yew to deck my grave: