The little hedgerow birds, That peck along the road, regard him not. He travels on, and in his face, his step, His gait, is one expression; every limb, His look and bending figure, all bespeak A man who does not move with pain, but moves With thought. -He is insensibly subdued To settled quiet: he is one by whom All effort seems forgotten; one to whom Long patience hath such  [ Read More ]

HIGH deeds, O Germans, are to come from you! Thus in your books the record shall be found, ‘A watchword was pronounced, a potent sound– ARMINIUS!–all the people quaked like dew Stirred by the breeze; they rose, a Nation, true, True to herself–the mighty Germany, She of the Danube and the Northern Sea, She rose, and off at once the yoke she threw. All power was given her in the  [ Read More ]

Art thou a Statist in the van Of public conflicts trained and bred? –First learn to love one living man; ‘Then’ may’st thou think upon the dead. A Lawyer art thou?–draw not nigh! Go, carry to some fitter place The keenness of that practised eye, The hardness of that sallow face. Art thou a Man of purple cheer? A rosy Man, right plump to see? Approach; yet, Doctor, not too  [ Read More ]

A poet!–He hath put his heart to school, Nor dares to move unpropped upon the staff Which art hath lodged within his hand–must laugh By precept only, and shed tears by rule. Thy Art be Nature; the live current quaff, And let the groveller sip his stagnant pool, In fear that else, when Critics grave and cool Have killed him, Scorn should write his epitaph. How does the Meadow-flower its  [ Read More ]

Where holy ground begins, unhallowed ends, Is marked by no distinguishable line; The turf unites, the pathways intertwine; And, wheresoe’er the stealing footstep tends, Garden, and that domain where kindred, friends, And neighbours rest together, here confound Their several features, mingled like the sound Of many waters, or as evening blends With shady night. Soft airs, from shrub and flower, Waft fragrant greetings to each silent grave; And while those  [ Read More ]

The sky is overcast With a continuous cloud of texture close, Heavy and wan, all whitened by the Moon, Which through that veil is indistinctly seen, A dull, contracted circle, yielding light So feebly spread, that not a shadow falls, Chequering the ground–from rock, plant, tree, or tower. At length a pleasant instantaneous gleam Startles the pensive traveller while he treads His lonesome path, with unobserving eye Bent earthwards; he  [ Read More ]

Lo! where the Moon along the sky Sails with her happy destiny; Oft is she hid from mortal eye Or dimly seen, But when the clouds asunder fly How bright her mien! Far different we–a froward race, Thousands though rich in Fortune’s grace With cherished sullenness of pace Their way pursue, Ingrates who wear a smileless face The whole year through. If kindred humours e’er would make My spirit droop  [ Read More ]