Next Pharmakeus of gashly wild aspect Night wanes-the vapours round the mountains curled No fish stir in our heaving net No forest fell No glory I covet, no riches I want No longer from thy window look No longer mourn for me when I am dead No marble statue, nor high No more the morn with tepid rays No princely pompe, nor welthie store No product here the barren hills afford No sooner had the Almighty ceased but all No! 'tis not worldly gain, altho' by chance No tree in all the grove but has its charms No sister e'er hath been to thee with pearly eyes of love No tree that is of count in greenewood growes 23 3 181 293 234 Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul Nor less at land the loosened tempest reigns Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds Nor vain their hope: bright beaming thro' the sky Not seldom, clad in radiant vest 82 Not seldom from the uproar I retired 53 632 Now at the time and in the appointed place 72 Now blooms the lily by the bank 460 Now by the Muses won, I seize my lyre 116 Now come, ye Naiads, to the fountain lead 95 Now fades the last long streak of snow Now dawns the rising of a brighter age 623 440 Now I gain the mountain's brow Now gentle sleep has closed up those eyes 46 93 Now in their turn assisting, they repay Now in contiguous drops the flood comes down. Now May with life and music 263 606 398 Now Morn her rosy steps in the eastern clime 43 582 Now nature hangs her mantle green Now the bright morning-star, day's harbinger Now spring has clad the groves in green Now the world is all before us Now when fair morn orient in heaven appeared Now when the height of heaven bright Phoebus gains PAGE 116 115 399 51 186 572 423 91 620 O blest retirement, friend to life's decline O bright occasions of dispensing good O Caledonia, stern and wild O! call my brother back to me O could the Muse my ravish'd breast inspire O dismal dole, when the secret soul O do not wanton with those eyes O! ever thus, from childhood's hour O fairest of creation, last and best O graziosa luna, io mi rammento. O had I to the shadows passed O happy lot of shepherds! happy he O happy shades-to me unblest O heavenly Muse, that not with fading bays O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem O, if sometimes thy spotless form descend. O! is there not some patriot, in whose power O leave this barren spot to me 209 244 591 77 444 271 146 352 236 12 49 245 567 443 411 353 268 193 561 583 343 84 33 393 579 514 92 325 317 348 13 552 O my lost love! no tomb is placed for thee *Ω παῖδες, ή τοι Κύπρις οὐ Κύπρις μόνον O! passing beautiful in this wild spot O say what is that thing called light 304 173 214 419 35 271 287 O that those lips had language 302 O think not that with roses crowned 205 O ye, whom wrath consumes! who passion-stung O you, the boldest of the nations, fired Oblivious Sleep, calm virtue's tranquil guest Of birds, how each, according to her kind Of the bright things in earth and air Oft in the piping shrouds had Leonard heard Oft in the stilly night Oft may the spirits of the dead descend Oft morning dreams presage approaching fate Οἶνος μὲν πρώτιστα θοὴν ἀνὰ νῆα μέλαιναν Old Yew which graspest at the stones On glassy stream, by greenwood bower On parent knees, a naked newborn child On the stage he was natural, simple, affecting On this foundation Fame's high temple stands On thy grey bark, in witness of my flame Once in an ancient city, whose name I no longer remember Once on a time a paper kite One day I wrote her name upon the strand One word is too often profaned Or if desire of honour was the base Οὐκέτι θελγομένας, Ορφεν, δρύας, οὐκέτι πέτρας Our bugles sang truce-for the night-cloud had lowered Our life is but an idle play. Our little world, the image of the great Our revels now are ended. These our actors Out upon it, I have loved Р 2 327 71 278 99 500 80 199 609 273 281 15 63 387 316 207 39 145 404 175 Rise, crowned with light, imperial Salem, rise River, that rollest by the ancient walls Reign in my thoughts fair hand, sweet eye, rare voice Relentless power! whose iron grasp extends Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow Resolued to dust intombed heere lieth Love Retired with purpose your fair worth to praise Rocks of my country! let the cloud 257 Roll on, ye stars! exult in youthful prime 159 Rome's tribes, her census, see; her generous troops 431 494 515 S Sad Iphigene to womanish complaints Sad night at once with all her deep dyed shades Said a people to a poet-Go out from among us straightway Scarce the third glass of measured hours was run 462 529 56 542 195 55 22 Sleep, poor youth, sleep in peace Sleep, silence' child, sweet father of soft rest Small are my treasures, my domain is small So bright is thy beauty, so charming thy song So far her voice flowed on like timorous brook So glides along the wanton brook So have I seen a rock's heroic breast So peaceful rests, without a stone, a name So Scotia's queen, as slowly dawned the day So the false spider, when her nets are spread So the struck eagle, stretcht upon the plain Some men employ their health, an ugly trick Some wail their fatal birth. First among these. Σπεύδων εἰ φιλέει με μαθεῖν εὐώπις Ερευθώ PAGE 68 183 91 102 443 2 390 467 70 477 415 452 78 548 537 600 391 501 527 596 450 597 210 392 388 404 340 423 433 460 127 444 488 70 ΙΟΙ Still steer on, brave heart! though witlings laugh at thy emprize Stranger on earth! where'er thy thoughts may roam 4 258 153 399 425 126 14 36 171 200 457 149 105 19 130 184 3 252 141 98 |