Thankless for favours from on high… Man thinks he fades too soon; Though ’tis his privilege to die, Would he improve the boon. But he, not wise enough to scan

A Spartan 'scaping from the fight… His mother met him in his flight, Upheld a falchion to his breast, And thus the fugitive address’d: ‘Thou canst but live to blot with…

My halting Muse, that dragg’st by… Thy slow, slow step, in melancholy… And lik’st that pace expressive of… Not less than Diopeia’s sprightli… When in the dance she beats with m…

Hence, my epistle—skim the Deep—f… Yon smooth expanse to the Teutoni… Haste—lest a friend should grieve… And the Gods grant that nothing t… I will myself invoke the King who…

It flatters and deceives thy view, This mirror of ill-polish’d ore; For, were it just, and told thee t… Thou wouldst consult it never more…

(Genesis, XXII.14) The saints should never be dismay’… Nor sink in hopeless fear; For when they least expect His ai… The Saviour will appear.

Mary! I want a lyre with other st… Such aid from heaven as some have… An eloquence scarce given to morta… And undebased by praise of meaner… That ere through age or woe I she…

Breathe from the gentle south, O… And cheer me from the north; Blow on the treasures of thy word, And call the spices forth! I wish, Thou knowest, to be resig…

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

Farewell! endued with all that cou… All hearts to love thee, both in y… In prime of life, for sprightlines… Among the gay, yet virtuous as the… In life’s last stage, (O blessing…

Almighty King! whose wondrous han… Supports the weight of sea and lan… Whose grace is such a boundless st… No heart shall break that sighs fo… Thy providence supplies my food,

A poet’s cat, sedate and grave As poet well could wish to have, Was much addicted to inquire For nooks to which she might retir… And where, secure as mouse in chin…

Ye linnets, let us try, beneath th… Which shall be loudest in our Mak… In quest of some forlorn retreat… For all the world is blind, and wa… That God alone should prop the si…

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…

My lids with grief were tumid yet, And still my sullied cheek was wet With briny dews profusely shed For venerable Winton dead, When Fame, whose tales of saddest…