A miser traversing his house, Espied, unusual there, a mouse, And thus his uninvited guest Briskly inquisitive address’d: ‘Tell me, my dear, to what cause i…

Would my Delia know if I love, le… My last thought at night, and the… With my prayers and best wishes pr… Let her guess what I muse on, whe… I stride o’er the stubble each day…

Written when the news arrived. Toll for the brave! The brave that are no more! All sunk beneath the wave Fast by their native shore.

Sin has undone our wretched race; But Jesus has restored, And brought the sinner face to fac… With his forgiving Lord. This we repeat from year to year

Art thou some individual of a kind Long-lived by nature as the rook o… Heap treasure, then, for if thy ne… Thou hast excuse, and scarce canst… But man thou seem’st, clear theref…

At length, my friend, the far-sent… Charged with thy kindness, to thei… They come, at length, from Deva’s… Where prone she seeks the salt Ve… Trust me, my joy is great that tho…

Ah! reign, wherever man is found! My spouse, beloved and divine! Then I am rich, and I abound, When every human heart is thine. A thousand sorrows pierce my soul,

His master taken from his head, Elisha saw him go; And in desponding accents said, “Ah, what must Israel do?” But he forgot the Lord who lifts

Less worthy of applause, though mo… Because a novelty, the work of man… Imperial mistress of the fur-clad… Thy most magnificent and mighty fr… The wonder of the North. No fores…

Jesus! where’er Thy people meet, There they behold Thy mercy seat; Where’er they seek Thee, Thou art… And every place is hallow’d ground… For Thou, within no walls confine…

Pause here, and think; a monitory… Demands one moment of thy fleeting… Consult life’s silent clock, thy b… Seems it to say—'Health here has… Hast thou the vigour of thy youth?…

A Nightingale that all day long Had cheered the village with his s… Nor yet at eve his note suspended, Nor yet when eventide was ended, Began to feel, as well he might,

On the Burning of Lord Mansfield… So then - the Vandals of our isle… Sworn foes to sense and law, Have burnt to dust a nobler pile Than ever Roman saw!

Could Homer come himself, distres… And tune his harp at Rhedicina’s… The rich old vixen would exclaim,… ‘Begone! no tramper gets a farthin…

Naples, too credulous, ah! boast n… The sweet-voiced Siren buried on… That, when Parthenope deceas’d, s… Her sacred dust to a Chalcidic gr… For still she lives, but has excha…