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INDEX OF FIRST LINES.

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Accept, thou shrine of my dead saint .'
A cloud lay cradled near the setting sun .
Again the violet of our early days .
A good that never satisfies the mind .
A grace though melancholy, manly too
A heavenly Night !-methinks to me
Ah Sunflower! weary of time.' .'
A hundred wings are dropt as soft as one
Ah ! what avails the sceptred race .
Ah! what a weary race my feet have run
A juggler long through all the town .
Alexis, here she stayed ; among these pines
All thoughts, all passions, all delights.
All travellers at first incline . .
All worldly shapes shall melt in gloom.
Although I enter not . . .
And are ye sure the news is true ?
An hour with thee I-When earliest day
Another year -another deadly blow!.
Art thou pale for weariness .
As, by some tyrant's stern command
As due by many titles, I resign.
As I lay asleep, as I lay asleep .
Ask me no more : the moon may draw the sea
Ask me no more where Jove bestows.
Ask me why I send you here ,
As near Porto-Bello lying ,
A steed, a steed of matchless speed .
Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones
Awake, Æolian lyre, awake ..
Away, let nought to love displeasing .
A wee bird came to our ha'' door

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Can I see another's woe .
Can I, who have for others oft compiled
Child of a day, thou knowest not
Cold in the earth and the deep snow piled above thee
Come, dear children, let us away
Come live with me, and be my love
Come, O Thou traveller unknown
Come, Sleep, and with thy sweet deceiving .
Come Sleep, 0 Sleep, the certain knot of peace
Conceit, begotten by the eyes.
Condemned to Hope's delusive mine.

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Death, be not proud, though some have called thee .

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Fair maid, had I not heard thy baby cries .
Fair ship, that from the Italian shore '. .
Fair Star of Evening ; Splendour of the West.
Fair stood the wind for France .
False world, good night, since thou hast brought ..
False world, thou liest ; thou canst not lend . .
Fare well man's dark last journey o'er the deep .
Farewell, too little and too lately known . .
Fear no more the heat o' the sun .
First-born of Chaos, who so fair didst come ..
Five years have passed; five summers, with the length
Fly fro the prease, and dwell with soothfastnesse
Forget not yet the tried intent .
Fresh clad from heaven in robes of white .
Friend faber, cast me a round hollow ball .
From you have I been absent in the spring

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Genius and its rewards are briefly told.
Give place, ye lovers, here before
Go, empty joys.
Go, lovely Rose!.
God gives not kings the style of gods in vain
Gone were but the winter cold . .
Go, silly worm, drudge, trudge, and travel
Go, Soul, the body's guest . .
Great Monarch of the world, from whose power springs
Green little vaulter on the sunny grass.
Grieve not, dear love, although we often part.

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Hail, beauteous stranger of the grove!. .
Hail to thee, blithe Spirit
Hamelin Town's in Brunswick.
Happy the man, whose wish and care .
Happy those early days, when I
Hardly we breathe, although the air be free.
Hast thou a charm to stay the morning star.
Heaven, what an age is this ! what race
Hence, all you vain delights .
Hence, loathèd Melancholy . .
Hence, vain deluding Joys .
Here lies a piece of Christ; a star in dust
Her sufferings ended with the day! .
He safely walks in darkest ways
He whom Heaven did call away
Hope, of all ills that men endure
How fresh, oh Lord, how sweet and clean
How happy is he born and taught
How sleep the brave, who sink to rest .
How soon doth man decay! .
How wisely Nature did decree . .

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I do confess thou'rt smooth and fair .
If all the world and Love were young .
If aught of oaten stop, or pastoral song
If, dumb too long, the drooping Muse hath stayed
If I had thought thou could'st have died
If the base violence of wicked men
If thou wilt ease thine heart .
If women could be fair, and yet not fond
I give thee treasures hour by hour
I hear no more the locust beat.
I love to rise ere gleams the tardy light
I mourn no more my vanished years .

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I'm wearin' awa', John.
In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes
In this marble buried lies
In this marble casket lies
I press not to the choir, nor dare I greet
I saw where in the shroud did lurk .
Is this the spot where Rome's eternal foe
I stood within the grave's o'ershadowing vault
I thought to meet no more, so dreary seemed .
It is a beauteous evening, calm and free .
It is not beauty I demand . .
It is not growing like a tree . .
I've heard them lilting at our ewe-milking .
I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged Pile
I weigh not fortune's frown or smile .
I were unkind unless that I did shed .
I will not praise the often-flattered rose
I wish I were where Helen lies.

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Lady, I bid thee to a sunny dome
Lady, that in the prime of earliest youth
Last night, among his fellow roughs.
Lawrence, of virtuous father virtuous son
Lay a garland on my hearse
Let him that will, ascend the tottering seat
Like as a huntsman after weary chace .
Like as the damask rose you see
Like to Diana in her summer weed
Little charm of placid mien .
Look how the flower which lingeringly doth fade
Lord, come away. .
Lord, in this dust thy sovereign voice . .

Mary! I want a lyre with other strings
Methinks it is good to be here.
Methought his royal person did foretell
Methought I saw the grave where Laura lay.
Misdeeming eye! that stoopeth to the lure .
Mortality, behold and fear! . .
Most glorious Lord of life, that on this day .
My dear and only Love, I pray . .
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My once dear Love ! hapless that I no more .

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