And when once the young heart of a maiden is stolen, The maiden herself will steal after it soon. Ill Omens. But there's nothing half so sweet in life As love's young dream. Eyes of unholy blue. To live with them is far less sweet Than to remember thee!11 "T is the last rose of summer, Left blooming alone. When true hearts lie withered And fond ones are flown, Oh! who would inhabit This bleak world alone? Love's Young Dream. By that lake. I saw thy form. Last Rose of Summer. Ibid. And the best of all ways To lengthen our days Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear! The Young May Moon. You may break, you may shatter the vase, if you will, But the scent of the roses will hang round it still. Farewell! But whenever you welcome the hour. Thus, when the lamp that lighted The traveller at first goes out, He feels awhile benighted, And looks around in fear and doubt. But soon, the prospect clearing, By cloudless starlight on he treads, And thinks no lamp so cheering As that light which heaven sheds. I'd mourn the hopes. 1 In imitation of Shenstone's inscription, "Heu! quanto minus est cum reliquis versari quam tui meminisse." No eye to watch, and no tongue to wound us, The light that lies Come o'er the sea. The time I've lost. In woman's eyes. My only books Were woman's looks, And folly 's all they 've taught me. I know not, I ask not, if guilt 's in that heart, To live and die in scenes like this, Ibid. Come, rest in this bosom. As slow our ship. Wert thou all that I wish thee, great, glorious, and free, First flower of the earth, and first gem of the sea. All that's bright must fade, The brightest still the fleetest; All that's sweet was made Remember thee. But to be lost when sweetest! All that's bright must fade. Those evening bells! those evening bells! Of youth, and home, and that sweet time As half in shade and half in sun This world along its path advances, May that side the sun's upon Those evening bells. Be all that e'er shall meet thy glances! Peace be around thee. If I speak to thee in Friendship's name, How shall I woo? A friendship that like love is warm, Oft in the stilly night, Ere Slumber's chain has bound me, Fond Memory brings the light Of other days around me; The smiles, the tears, Of boyhood's years, The words of love then spoken; Now dimmed and gone, The cheerful hearts now broken! I feel like one Who treads alone Some banquet-hall deserted, Whose lights are fled, And all but he departed! O, call it by some better name, How shall I woo? Oft in the stilly night. Ibid. O, call it by some better name. When twilight dews are falling soft I watch the star whose beam so oft To sigh, yet feel no pain, To weep, yet scarce know why; When twilight dews. The Blue Stocking. Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea! Sound the loud timbrel. This world is all a fleeting show, The smiles of joy, the tears of woe, This world is all a fleeting show. Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish: Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal. Come, ye disconsolate. Where bastard Freedom waves Her fustian flag in mockery over slaves. I knew, by the smoke that so gracefully curled Faintly as tolls the evening chime, Ballad Stanzas. Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time. A Canadian Boat Song. Row, brothers row, the stream runs fast, Ibid. To Greece we give our shining blades. Evenings in Greece. On the Entry of the Austrians into Naples, 1821. 1 This song was introduced in Kemble's Lodoiska, Act iii. Sc. 1. Who has not felt how sadly sweet The dream of home, the dream of home, Steals o'er the heart, too soon to fleet, When far o'er sea or land we roam? A Persian's heaven is easily made, "T is but black eyes and lemonade. The Dream of Home. Intercepted Letters. Letter vi. Humility, that low, sweet root, From which all heavenly virtues shoot. Loves of the Angels. The Third Angel's Story. Who ran Through each mode of the lyre, and was master of all. On the Death of Sheridan. Whose wit, in the combat, as gentle as bright, Ibid. Though an angel should write, still 't is devils must print. The Fudges in England. Weep on; and, as thy sorrows flow, Anacreontic. Good at a fight, but better at a play, Godlike in giving, but the devil to pay. On a Cast of Sheridan's Hand. The minds of some of our statesmen, like the pupil of the human eye, contract themselves the more, the stronger light there is shed upon them. Preface to Corruption and Intolerance. Like a young eagle, who has lent his plume To fledge the shaft by which he meets his doom, See their own feathers plucked, to wing the dart Which rank corruption destines for their heart.1 1 Compare Waller. Page 176. Corruption. |