This day, of all our days, has don
The worst for me and you:-
'Tis just six years since we were
And five since we were two.

Why should my anxious breast repin
Because my youth is fled?
Days of delight may still be mine;
Affection is not dead.
In tracing back the years of youth

I enter thy garden of roses,
Beloved and fair Haidée,
Each morning where Flora reposes,
For surely I see her in thee.
Oh, Lovely! thus low I implore th

It is the hour when from the bough
The nightingale’s high note is hea
It is the hour when lovers’ vows
Seem sweet in every whisper’d word
And gentle winds, and waters near,

The fight was o’er; the flashing t
Which robes the cannon as he wings
Had ceased; and sulphury vapours u
Had left the Earth, and but pollu
The rattling roar which rung in ev

Sweet girl! though only once we me
That meeting I shall ne’er forget
And though we ne’er may meet again
Remembrance will thy form retain.
I would not say, ‘I love,’ but st

When I hear that you express an a
Ne’er think, my beloved, that I d
For your lip would the soul of sus
And your eye beams a ray which can
Yet, still, this fond bosom regret

Strahan, Tonson Lintot of the tim
Patron and publisher of rhymes,
For thee the bard up Pindus climb
My Murray.
To thee, with hope and terror dumb

The antique Persians taught three
To draw the bow, to ride, and spea
This was the mode of Cyrus, best
A mode adopted since by modern you
Bows have they, generally with two

'O’er the glad waters of the dark
Our thoughts as boundless, and our
Far as the breeze can bear, the bi
Survey our empire, and behold our
These are our realms, no limits to