Miscellaneous Poems

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The author, 1827 - 179 pages
 

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Page 73 - In every work regard the writer's end, Since none can compass more than they intend ; And if the means be just, the conduct true, Applause, in spite of trivial faults, is due. As men of breeding, sometimes men of wit, T...
Page 128 - midst studies too severe ! Foremost to mourn, was generous Southey seen, He told the tale, and show'd what White had been, Nor told in vain. Far o'er the Atlantic wave A wanderer came, and sought the poet's grave ; On yon low stone he saw his lonely name, And raised this fond memorial to his fame.
Page 19 - And, uncontroll'd, put new ones in their place, So might I chase all others from her heart, And my own image in the stead impart ; But ah ! how short the bliss would prove if he Who seized it next might do the same by me
Page 63 - To muse with monks unletter'd and unknown, What from his soul the parting tribute drew? What claim'd the sorrows of a last adieu ? The still retreats that soothed his tranquil breast Ere grandeur dazzled, and its cares oppress'd.
Page 48 - Bursts through the cypress-walk, the convent-cell, Oft will her warm and wayward heart revive, To love and joy still tremblingly alive ; The whisper'd vow, the chaste caress prolong, Weave the light dance and swell the choral song; With rapt ear drink the enchanting serenade, And, as it melts along the moonlight glade, To each soft note return as soft a sigh, And bless the youth that bids her slumbers fly.
Page 14 - twill pierce thee to the heart ; A broken reed, at best ; but, oft, a spear ; On its sharp point peace bleeds, and hope expires.
Page 25 - Treads the loved shore he sigh'd to leave behind ; Meets at each step a friend's familiar face, And flies at last to Helen's long embrace...
Page 63 - Melts at the long-lost scenes that round him rise, And sinks a martyr to repentant sighs. Ask not if courts or camps dissolve the charm : Say why VESPASIAN loved his Sabine farm; Why great NAVARRE, when France and freedom bled, Sought the lone limits of a forest-shed.
Page 35 - Heaven that thou alone canst make ? And wilt thou quit the stream That murmurs through the dewy mead, The grove and...
Page 25 - But HOPE can here her moonlight vigils keep, And sing to charm the spirit of the deep ; Swift as yon streamer lights the starry pole, Her visions warm the watchman's pensive soul ; His native hills that rise in happier climes, The grot that heard his song of other times, His...

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