High in the midst, surrounded by his peers, Magnus [1] his ample front sublime uprears: Plac'd on his chair of state, he seems a God, While Sophs [2] and Freshmen tremble at his nod;...
Oh! did those eyes instead of fire, With bright, but mild affection shine, Though they might kindle less desire, Love, more than mortal, would be thine.
Sweet girl! though only once we met, That meeting I shall ne'er forget; And though we ne'er may meet again, Remembrance will thy form retain; I would not say, "I love," but still,...
Rail on, Rail on, ye heartless crew! My strains were never meant for you; Remorseless Rancour still reveal, And damn the verse you cannot feel. Invoke those kindred passions' aid,...
Oh! had my Fate been join'd with thine, [1] As once this pledge appear'd a token, These follies had not, then, been mine, For, then, my peace had not been broken.
These locks, which fondly thus entwine, In firmer chains our hearts confine, Than all th' unmeaning protestations Which swell with nonsense, love orations. Our love is fix'd, I think we've prov'd it;...
Oh, Anne, your offences to me have been grievous: I thought from my wrath no atonement could save you; But Woman is made to command and deceive us - I look'd in your face, and I almost forgave you....
Young Oak! when I planted thee deep in the ground, I hoped that thy days would be longer than mine; That thy dark-waving branches would flourish around, And ivy thy trunk with its mantle entwine....
Equal to Jove that youth must be - Greater than Jove he seems to me - Who, free from Jealousy's alarms, Securely views thy matchless charms; That cheek, which ever dimpling glows,...
Sonnet composed in the name of a father, whose daughter had recently died shortly after her marriage; and addressed to the father of her who had lately taken the veil.
He who, sublime, in epic numbers roll'd, And he who struck the softer lyre of Love, By Death's unequal[1] hand alike controul'd, Fit comrades in Elysian regions move!
'Tis midnight - but it is not dark Within thy spacious place, St. Mark! The Lights within, the Lamps without, Shine above the revel rout. The brazen Steeds are glittering o'er...