Obrazy na stronie

melt, and dispel, ye speetre-douhts, that roll
Cimmerian darkness o'er the parting soul!

Pleasures of Hope. Part ii. Line 263.

O star-eyed Science ! hast thou wandered there,

To waft us home the message of despair? Line 325.

But, sad as angels for the good man's sin,

Weep to record, and blush to give it in.1 line 357.

Cease, every joy, to glimmer on my mind,
But leave, O, leave the light of hope behind !
What though my winged hours of bliss have been,
Like angel visits, few and far hetween.2 Line 375.

The hunter and the deer a shade.'

O'Coanor's Child. Stanza 5. Another's sword has laid him low,

Another's and another's;
And every hand that dealt the blow,

Ah me! it was a brother's ! Stanza to.

'T is the sunset of life gives me mystical lore,
And coming events cast their shadows before.'

Loehiel's Warning.

Shall vietor exuit, or in death he laid low,

With his back to the field, and his feet to the foe,

And leaving in battle no blot on his name,

Look proudly to Heaven from the deathbed of fame.

Ibid. And rustic life and poverty Grow beautiful beneath his touch.

Ode to the Memory of Burns.

1 Compare Sterne. Page 322.

2 Compare Norris. Page 238.

z verbatim from Freneau's Indian Burying-Ground.

* Poets are the hierophants of an unapprehended inspiration; the mirrors of the gigantic shadows which futurity casts upon the present.— Shelley, A Defence of Poetry.

Whose lines are mottoes of the heart,

Whose truths electrify the sage.

Ode to the Memory of Burns. Ye mariners of England! That guard our native seas; Whose flag has braved, a thousand years, The battle and the breeze! Ye M arinert of England.

Britannia needs no bulwarks,

No towers along the steep;

Her march is o'er the mountain waves,

Her home is on the deep. Ibid.

When the stormy winds do blow:1

When the battle rages loud and long,

And the stormy winds do blow. Ibid.

The meteor flag of England

Shall yet terrific burn;

Till danger's troubled night depart,

And the star of peace return. Ibid.

There was silence deep as death;

And the boldest held his breath,

For a time. Battle of the Baltic.

The combat deepens. On, ye brave,

Who rush to glory, or the grave!

Wave, Munich! all thy banners wave,

And charge with all thy chivalry! Eohenlinden.

Few, few, shall part where many meet!

The snow shall be their winding-sheet.

And every turf beneath their feet

Shall be a soldier's sepulchre. Ibid.

1 When the stormy winds do blow.

Martyn Parker, Ye Gentlemen of England.

There came to the beach a poor exile of Erin,
The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill;

For his country he sighed, when at twilight repairing
To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill.

The Exile of Erin.

To bear is to conquer our fate.

On visiting a scene in Argylethire.

The sentinel stars set their watch in the sky.1

The Soldier's Dream.

In life's morning march, when my bosom was young.

Ibid. But sorrow returned with the dawning of morn,

And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away. Ibid.

Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky

When storms prepare to part, I ask not proud Philosophy

To teach me what thou art. To the Rainbow.

A stoic of the woods, — a man without a tear.

Gertrude of Wyoming. Part i. Stanza 23. O Love! in such a wilderness as this. Part iii. Stanza 1.

Stanza 5.

v' uuvc . in .Mil ii ii wiiueiiie&B us im». x an n

The torrent's smoothness, ere it dash below!

Again to the battle, Achaians!

Our hearts bid the tyrants defiance!

Our land, the first garden of Liberty's tree,

It has been, and shall yet be, the land of the free.

Song of the Greenbelt. Drink ye to her that each loves best,

And if you nurse a flame
That 's told but to her mutual breast,

We will not ask her name. Drink ye to her.

1 The starrer, bright centinels of the okies.

Habington, Castara, Dialogue between Night and Arnphil.


To live in hearts we leave behind,

Is not to die. Hallowed Ground.

O leave this barren spot to me!

Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree.1

The Beech Tree's Petition (1802).

CLEMENT C. MOORE. 1779-1863.

'T was the night before Christmas, when all through

the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse; The stockings were hung by the chimney with care. In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

A Vint from St. Nicholas.


Unthinking, idle, wild, and young,

I laughed, and danced, and talked, and sung.

JAMES KENNEY. 1780-1849.

Behold, how brightly breaks the morning,
Though bleak our lot, our hearts are warm.

Behold how brightly breaks.

1 Woodman, spare that tree! Touch not a single bough!

Morris, Woodman, spare that Tree.


JANE TAYLOR. 1783-1824.

Far from mortal cares retreating,

Sordid hopes and vain desires, Here, our willing footsteps meeting,

Every heart to heaven aspires. Hymn.

I thank the goodness and the grace

Which on my birth have smiled, And made me, in these Christian days,

A happy Christian child. A Child's Hymn of Praise.

O that it were my chief delight

To do the things I ought!
Then let me try with all my might

To mind what I am taught. For a Very Little Child.

Who ran to help me when I fell,
And would some pretty story tell,
Or kiss the place to make it well?
My mother.


A wet sheet and a flowing sea,

A wind that follows fast,

And fills the white and rustling sail,

And bends the gallant mast.

A wet sheet and a flowing sea.

While the hollow oak our palace is,

Our heritage the sea. Ibid.

When looks were fond, and words were few.

Poet's Bridal-Day Song.

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