Page images

All that's bright must fade,—

The brightest still the fleetest ; All that's sweet was made

But to be lost when sweetest.

All that's Bright must Fade.

As half in shade and half in sun

This world along its path advances, May that side the sun's upon

Be all that e'er shall meet thy glances.

To sigh, yet feel no pain,

Peace be Around Thee.

To weep, yet scarce know why;

To sport an hour with Beauty's chain,

Then throw it idly by.

The Blue Stocking.

Oft in the stilly night

E'er slumber's chain has bound me,

Fond Memory brings the light

Of other days around me.

The eyes that shone

Now dimmed and gone.

Oft in the Stilly Night.


I feel like one

Who treads alone

Some banquet-hall deserted,

Whose lights are fled,
Whose garlands dead,

And all but he departed.


I knew by the smoke that so gracefully curled

Above the green elms that a cottage was near, And I said 'if there's peace to be found in the world, A heart that was humble might hope for it here.'

I give thee all I can no more

Tho' poor the offering be;

My heart and lute are all the store
That I can bring to thee.*

Ballad Stanzas.

My Heart and Lute.

This world is all a fleeting show,
For man's illusion given;
The smiles of Joy, the tears of Woe,

Deceitful shine, deceitful flow-
There's nothing true but Heaven.

The World is all a Fleeting Show.

Come, ye Disconsolate.

Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal.

A Persian's Heaven is easily made,

'T is but black eyes and lemonade.

Intercepted Letters. Letter vi. Who ran

Through each mood of the lyre, and was master of all.

On the Death of Sheridan.

Whose wit, in the combat, as gentle as bright,
Ne'er carried a heart-stain away on its blade.


Weep on, and as thy sorrows flow,
I'll taste the luxury of woe.


* From KEMBLE'S Lodoiska, Act iii. Sc. 1,

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.



No hammers fell, no pondrous axes rung ;*

Like some tall palm, the mystic fabric sprung.

Majestic silence!


Brightest and best of the sons of the morning!
Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid.

By cool Siloam's shady rill

How sweet the lily grows.

Christmas Hymn.

First Sunday after Epiphany. No. ii.

When spring unlocks the flowers to paint the laughing


Seventh Sunday after Trinity.

Death rides on every passing breeze,

He lurks in every flower.

At a Funeral.

* Altered in later editions to

No workman steel, no ponderous axes rung,
Like some tall palm the noiseless fabric sprung.

Silently as a dream the fabric rose,

No sound of hammer or of saw was there.

COWPER. The Winter Morning Walk.


Book v.

Thou art gone to the grave! but we will not deplore


Though sorrows and darkness encompass the tomb.

At a Funeral. No. ii.

Thus heavenly hope is all serene,
But earthly hope, how bright soe'er,
Still fluctuates o'er this changing scene
As false and fleeting as 't is fair.

On Heavenly Hope and Earthly Hope.

From Greenland's icy mountains,

From India's coral strand,
Where Afric's sunny fountains
Roll down their golden sand.

Missionary Hymn.


JONATHAN M. SEWALL. 1748-1808.

O pent up Utica contracts your powers,
But the whole boundless continent is yours.

Epilogue to Cato.*


JOSEPH STORY. 1779-1845.

ERE shall the Press the People's right maintain,

Unawed by influence and unbribed by gain ;

Here patriot truth her glorious precepts draw,

Pledged to Religion, Liberty, and Law.

Motto of the Salem Register. †

* Written for the Bow Street Theatre, Portsmouth, N. H.
Life of Story. Vol. i. p. 127.


HE old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket,


The moss-covered bucket, which hung in the well.

LORD BYRON. 1788-1824.


MAIDENS, like moths, are ever caught by glare,

And Mammon wins his way where Seraphs

might despair.

My native land-good night!

Canto i. Stanza 9.

Canto i. Stanza 13.

Oh, Christ! it is a goodly sight to see

What Heaven hath done for this delicious land.

Canto i. Stanza 15.

In hopes to merit Heaven by making earth a Hell.

Canto i. Stanza 20.

By Heaven! it is a splendid sight to see
For one who hath no friend, no brother there.

Canto i. Stanza 40.

War, war is still the cry, 'war even to the knife!"

[ocr errors]

Canto i. Stanza 86.

* ' War even to the knife,' was the reply of Palafox, the governor of Saragossa, when summoned to surrender by the French when they besieged that city in 1808.

« PreviousContinue »