A noble Lady of the Italian shore Lovely and young, herself a happy bride, Commands a verse, and will not be denied, From me a wandering Englishman; I tore One sonnet, but invoke the muse once more...
Dear are the days of youth! Age dwells on their remembrance through the mist of time. In the twilight he recalls the sunny hours of morn. He lifts his spear with trembling hand. "Not thus feebly did I raise the steel before my ...
The morning watch was come; the vessel lay Her course, and gently made her liquid way;[ex] The cloven billow flashed from off her prow In furrows formed by that majestic plough;...
White as a white sail on a dusky sea, When half the horizon's clouded and half free, Fluttering between the dun wave and the sky, Is Hope's last gleam in Man's extremity....
How pleasant were the songs of Toobonai,[368] When Summer's Sun went down the coral bay! Come, let us to the islet's softest shade, And hear the warbling birds! the damsels said:...
The fight was o'er; the flashing through the gloom, Which robes the cannon as he wings a tomb, Had ceased; and sulphury vapours upward driven Had left the Earth, and but polluted Heaven:...
My hair is grey, but not with years, Nor grew it white In a single night,[3] As men's have grown from sudden fears: My limbs are bowed, though not with toil,...
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;...
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,...
Think'st thou I saw thy beauteous eyes, Suffus'd in tears, implore to stay; And heard unmov'd thy plenteous sighs, Which said far more than words can say?
You have asked for a verse: - the request In a rhymer 'twere strange to deny; But my Hippocrene was but my breast, And my feelings (its fountain) are dry.
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,...
Ye Cupids droop each little head, Nor let your wings with joy be spread, My Lesbia's favourite bird is dead, Which dearer than her eyes she lov'd: For he was gentle and so true,...
Ye Cupids, droop each little head, Nor let your wings with joy be spread, My Lesbia's favourite bird is dead, Whom dearer than her eyes she lov'd: For he was gentle, and so true,...