Nisus, the guardian of the portal
Eager to gild his arms with hostil
Well skill’d in fight the quiverin
Or pour his arrow, through th’ emb
From Ida ton’ he left his sylvan

Posterity will ne’er survey
A nobler grave than this:
Here lie the bones of Castlereagh
Stop, traveler—

Hush’d are the winds, and still th
Not e’en a zephyr wanders through
Whilst I return, to view my Marga
And scatter flowers on the dust I
Within this narrow cell reclines h

I stood in Venice, on the Bridge
A palace and a prison on each hand
I saw from out the wave her struct
As from the stroke of the enchante
A thousand years their cloudy wing

They say that Hope is happiness;
But genuine Love must prize the p
And Memory wakes the thoughts tha
They rose the first—they set the l
And all that Memory loves the mos

When, from the heart where Sorrow
Her dusky shadow mounts too high,
And o’er the changing aspect flits
And clouds the brow, or fills the
Heed not that gloom, which soon sh

My dear Mr. Murray,
You’re in a damn 'd hurry,
To set up this ultimate Canto;
But (if they don’t rob us)
You’ll see Mr. Hobhouse

I stood beside the grave of him wh
The comet of a season, and I saw
The humblest of all sepulchres, an
With not the less of sorrow and of
On that neglected turf and quiet s

Oh when shall the grave hide for e
Oh when shall my soul wing her fli
The present is hell, and the comin
But brings, with new torture, the
From my eye flows no tear, from my

And thou wert sad’—yet I was not
And thou wert sick, and yet I was
Methought that joy and health alon
Where I was not’—and pain and sor
And is it thus?'—it is as I foret