Poets attempt the noblest task the… Praising the Author of all good i… And, next, commemorating Worthies… The dead in whom that good abounde… Thee, therefore, of commercial fam…

O thou, by long experience tried, Near whom no grief can long abide; My love! how full of sweet content I pass my years of banishment! All scenes alike engaging prove

I sing of a journey to Clifton, We would have perform’d if we coul… Without cart or barrow to lift on Poor Mary and me through the mud; Slee, sla, slud,

Boy! I detest all Persian fopperi… Fillet-bound garlands are to me di… Task not thyself with any search,… Where latest roses linger. Bring me alone (for thou wilt find…

Say, ye apostate and profane, Wretches, who blush not to disdain Allegiance to your God,— Did e’er your idly wasted love Of virtue for her sake remove

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…

Maria, could Horace have guessed What honour awaited his ode To his little volume addressed, The honour which you have bestowed… Who have traced it in characters h…

In Cnidus born, the consort I bec… Of Euphron. Aretimias was my name… His bed I shared, nor proved a ba… But bore two children at a birth,… One child I leave to solace and u…

(Ezekiel, XXXVI. 25-28) The Lord proclaims His grace abro… “Behold, I change your hearts of… Each shall renounce his idol-god, And serve, henceforth, the Lord a…

SCENE I.—CHORUS OF ANGEL… Now let us garlands weave Of all the fairest flowers, Now at this early dawn, For new-made man, and his companio…

The Spirit breathes upon the word… And brings the truth to sight; Precepts and promises afford A sanctifying light. A glory gilds the sacred page,

Still, still, without ceasing, I feel it increasing, This fervour of holy desire; And often exclaim, Let me die in the flame

William was once a bashful youth; His modesty was such, That one might say (to say the tru… He rather had too much. Some said that it was want of sens…

There is in souls a sympathy with… And as the mind is pitch’d the ear… With melting airs, or martial, bri… Some chord in unison with what we… Is touch’d within us, and the hear…

Sauntering along the street one da… On trifles musing by the way, Up steps a free familiar wight; (I scarcely knew the man by sight.… ‘Carlos (he cried), your hand, my…