A YOUNG fig-tree its form lifts high

Still in mine ear sounds, as of yore,Thine ev’ry word, thine ev’ry tone.As when at morn the wand’rer’s eyeAttempts to pierce the air in vain,When, hidden in the azure sky,The lark high o’er him chaunts his strain:So do I cast my troubled gazeThrough bush, through forest, o’er the lea;Thou art invoked by all my lays;Oh,…

Long is the track plough’d up by the keel where dolphins are sporting,Following fast in its rear, while it seems flying pursuit.All forebodes a prosperous voyage; the sailor with calmnessLeans ‘gainst the sail, which alone all that is needed performs.Forward presses the heart of each seamen, like colours and streamers;Backward one only is seen, mournfully…

Adam fast sunk; He gently laidEve near him,–she, too, fell asleep.There lay they now, on earth’s fair shrine,God’s two most beauteous thoughts divine.–When this He saw, He cried:–‘Tis Good!!!And scarce could move from where He stood.No wonder, that our joy’s completeWhile eye and eye responsive meet,When this blest thought of rapture moves us–That we’re with…

Praise or blame he ever loves;None in prose confess an error,Yet we do so, void of terror,In the Muses’ silent groves.What I err’d in, what corrected,What I suffer’d, what effected,To this wreath as flow’rs belong;For the aged, and the youthful,And the vicious, and the truthful,All are fair when viewed in song.

Say, whose grave can this be, with life by all the ImmortalsBeauteously planted and deck’d?–Here doth Anacreon sleepSpring and summer and autumn rejoiced the thrice-happy minstrel,And from the winter this mound kindly hath screen’d him at last.

Shingles and boards, as by magic arise,The babe in his cradle and swaddling-clothes lies;How blest to trust to God’s protection!’Behold a wooden new erection,So that, if sparks and wind but choose,God’s self at such a game must lose!