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Music, when soft voices die.
My coursers are fed with the lightning
My dearest Mary, wherefore hast thou gone
My faint spirit was sitting in the light
My head is heavy, my limbs are weary.
My head is wild with weeping for a grief
My lost William, thou in whom .
My Song, I fear that thou wilt find but few
My soul is an enchanted boat
My spirit like a charmed bark doth swim
My thoughts arise and fade in solitude
My wings are folded o'er mine ears
Night, with all thine eyes look down!
Night! with all thine eyes look down!
No access to the Duke! You have not said
No, Music, thou art not the food of Love'
No trump tells thy virtues.
Nor happiness, nor majesty, nor fame
Not far from hence. From yonder pointed hill :
Now had the loophole of that dungeon, still
Now the last day of many days
O Bacchus, what a world of toil, both now.
O happy Earth! reality of Heaven
O Mary dear, that you were here
O mighty mind, in whose deep stream this age
o Slavery ! thou frost of the world's prime
O that a chariot of cloud were mine!
O that mine enemy had written .
O thou bright Sunl beneath the dark blue line .
O thou immortal deity,
O thou, who plumed with strong desire
O universal Mother, who dost keep
O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being
O world! O life! O time!.
Offspring of Jove, Calliope, once more
Oh! did you observe the black Canon pass.
Oh! take the pure gem to where southerly breezes
Oh! there are spirits of the air
Oh! what is the gain of restless care
On a battle-trumpet's blast
On a poet's lips I slept
On the brink of the night and the inorning
Once, early in the morning :
One sung of thee who left the tale untold :
One word is too often profaned
Orphan Hours, the Year is dead .
Our boat is asleep on Serchio's stream
Our spoil is won
Out of the eastern shadow of the Earth
Over the utmost hill at length I sped.
Palace-roof of cloudless nights !
Pan loved his neighbour Echo
-- but that child
People of England, ye who toil and groan
Peter Bells, one, two and three
Place, for the Marshal of the Masque!
Poet of Nature, thou hast wept to know
Prince Athanase had one beloved friend
Rarely, rarely, comest thou
Reach me that handkerchief !-My brain is hurt
Returning from its daily quest, my Spirit
Rome has fallen, ye see it lying .
Rough wind, that moanest loud
Sacred Goddess, Mother Earth
See yon opening flower
Serene in his unconquerable might
Shall we roam, my love
She comes not; yet I left her even now
She left me at the silent time
She saw me not-she heard me not-alone .
She was an aged woman; and the years
Silence! Oh, well are Death and Sleep and Thou
Silver key of the fountain of tears
Sing, Muse, the son of Maia and of Jove
Sleep, sleep on! forget thy pain
So now my summer task is ended, Mary
So we sate joyous as the morning ray
Stern, stern is the voice of fate's fearful command
Such hope, as is the sick despair of good
Such was Zonoras; and as daylight finds
Summer was dead and Autumn was expiring
Sweet Spirit! Sister of that orphan one
Sweet star, which gleaming o'er the darksome scene
Swift as a spirit hastening to his task ,
Swifter far than summer's flight .
Swiftly walk o'er the western wave
Tell me, thou Star, whose wings of light
That matter of the murder is hushed up
That night we anchored in a woody bay
That time is dead for ever, child!
The awful shadow of some unseen Power
The babe is at peace within the womb
The billows on the beach are leaping around it
The cold earth slept below .
The curtain of the Universe.
The death-bell beats !
The death knell is ringing
The Devil, I safely can aver .
The Devil now knew his proper cue
The Elements respect their Maker's seal !
The everlasting universe of things
The fierce beasts of the woods and wildernesses
The fiery mountains answer each other
The fitful alternations of the rain
The flower that smiles to-day
The fountains mingle with the river
The gentleness of rain was in the wind
The golden gates of Sleep unbar .
The joy, the triumph, the delight, the madness
The keen stars were twinkling
The odour from the flower is gone
The old man took the oars, and soon the bark
The pale stars are gone
The pale stars of the morn
The pale, the cold, and the moony smile
The path through which that lovely twain .
The rose that drinks the fountain dew
The rude wind is singing
The season was the childhood of sweet June
The serpent is shut out from Paradise.
The sleepless Hours who watch me as I lie .
The spider spreads her webs, whether she be
The starlight smile of children, the sweet looks
The stars may dissolve, and the fountain of light
The sun is set; the swallows are asleep
The sun is warm, the sky is clear
The sun makes music as of old
The transport of a fierce and monstrous gladness
The viewless and invisible Consequence
The voice of the Spirits of Air and of Earth
The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing
The waters are flashing
The wind has swept from the wide atmosphere
The world is dreary
The world is now our dwelling-place
The world's great age begins anew
Then weave the web of the mystic measure
There is a voice, not understood by all
There is a warm and gentle atmosphere
There late was One within whose subtle being
There was a little lawny islet
There was a youth, who, as with toil and travel
These are two friends whose lives were undivided
They die--the dead return not-Misery
Those whom nor power, nor lying faith, nor toil
Thou art fair, and few are fairer .
Thou art the wine whose drunkenness is all
Thou living light that in thy rainbow hues.
Thou supreme Goddess ! by whose power divine .
Thou wert not, Cassius, and thou couldst not be.
Thou wert the morning star among the living
Thrice three hundred thousand years
Thus to be lost and thus to sink and die
Thy beauty hangs around thee like
Thy country's curse is on thee, darkest crest
Thy dewy looks sink in my breast
Thy little footsteps on the sands .
Thy look of love has power to calm
'Tis midnight now- athwart the murky air.
'Tis the terror of tempest. The rags of the sail
To me this world 's a dreary blank
To the deep, to the deep
To thirst and find no fill to wail and wander
'Twas at the season when the Earth upsprings
"Twas at this season that Prince Athanase
"Twas dead of the night, when I sat in my dwelling
'Twas dead of the night when I sate in my dwelling
Unfathomable Sea! whose waves are years .
Unrisen splendour of the brightest sun
Vessels of heavenly medicine ! may the breeze
Victorious Wrong, with vulture scream
Wake the serpent not-lest he
Was there a human spirit in the steed
We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon
We come from the mind
We join the throng
We meet not as we parted
We strew these opiate flowers
Wealth and dominion fade into the mass
Weave the dance on the floor of the breeze
Weep not, my gentle boy; he struck but me
What! alive and so bold, 'o Earth ?
What art thou, Presumptuous, who profanest
What Mary is when she a little smiles .
What men gain fairly-that they should possess .
• What think you the dead are ?
What thoughts had sway o'er Cythna's lonely slumber
What was the shriek that struck Fancy's ear
When a lover clasps his fairest
When May is painting with her colours gay
When passion's trance is overpast
When soft winds and sunny skies.
When the lamp is shattered .
When the last hope of trampled France had failed
When winds that move not its calm surface sweep
Where art thou, beloved To-morrow ?
Where man's profane and tainting hand
Whose is the love that gleaming through the world
Why is it said thou canst not live
Wild, pale, and wonder-stricken, even as one
Wilt thou forget the happy hours
Within a cavern of man's trackless spirit
Worlds on worlds are rolling ever
Would I were the winged cloud
Ye congregated powers of heaven, who share
Ye Dorian woods and waves, lament aloud
Ye gentle visitations of calm thought
Ye hasten to the grave! What seek ye there
Ye who intelligent the Third Heaven move.
Ye wild-eyed Muses, sing the Twins of Jove
Yes! all is past-swift time has fled away
Yes, often when the eyes are cold and dry
Yet look on me-take not thine eyes away
You said that spirits spoke, but it was thee
Your call was as a winged car
PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY