INDEX TO FIRST LINES An asterisk (*) indicates that the verses are now printed or collected for the first time. A BIRD, who for his other sins, 195. A blessed lot hath he, who having passed, 81. A green and silent spot, amid the hills, 127. * A long deep lane so overshadow'd, 455. A lovely form there sate beside my bed, 207. A low dead Thunder mutter'd thro' the night, A maniac in the woods, 456. A mount, not wearisome and bare and steep, 67. Ah! cease thy tears and sobs, my little Life! 44. All thoughts, all passions, all delights, 135. An evil spirit's on thee, friend! of late! 447. An Ox, long fed with musty hay, 133. And arrows steelled with wrath, 458. And cauldrons the scoop'd earth, a boiling sea, 454. And hail the Chapel! hail the Platform wild! 149. And oft I saw him stray, 654. And re-implace God's Image in the Soul, 458. *And this is your peculiar art, I know, 468. And this place our forefathers made for men! 85. III. *And with my whole heart sing the stately song, 457. *And write Impromptus, 454. *Are there two things, of all which men possess, 171. As Dick and I at Charing Cross were walking, 445. As I am rhymer, 452. As late each flower that sweetest blows, 23. As the tir'd savage, who his drowsy frame, 566. Away, those cloudy looks, that labouring 'BE, rather than be call'd, a child of God,' 145. Beneath the blaze of a tropical sun, 174. Beneath yon birch with silver bark, 136. *Blind is that soul which from this truth can Britons! when last ye met, with distant Est meum et est tuum, amice! et si amborum streak, 65. "Broad-breasted Pollards, with broad- branching heads, 456. Broad-breasted rock-hanging cliff that glasses, *CALL the World Spider; and at fancy's touch, 465. Child of my muse! in Barbour's gentle hand, 207. 'Come hither, gently rowing,' 143. Come; your opinion of my manuscript! 449. Cupid, if storying Legends tell aright, 23. DEAR Charles! whilst yet thou wert a babe, I Dear native Brook! wild Streamlet of the *Dear tho' unseen! tho' hard has been my lot, 203. Depart in joy from this world's noise and strife, *Desire of pure Love born, itself the same, 644. *Dim specks of entity, 455. *Discontent mild as an infant, 455. Do call, dear Jess, whene'er my way you come, 447. Do you ask what the birds say? The Sparrow, Doris can find no taste in tea, 444. Due to the Staggerers, that made drunk by Power, 454. EACH Bond-street buck conceits, unhappy elf! 449. Each crime that once estranges from the virtues, Earth! thou mother of numberless children, the Edmund! thy grave with aching eye I scan, 35. nequit esse, 460. Eu! Dei vices gerens, ipse Divus, 463- FAREWELL, parental scenes! a sad farewell! 15. *Fear thou no more, thou timid Flower! 158. For she had lived in this bad world, 455- Frail creatures are we all! To be the best, 208. *Friend pure of heart and fervent! we have *Friends should be weigh'd, not told; who boasts From his brimstone bed at break of day, 147, 621. GENTLY I took that which ungently came, 208. 471. God be with thee, gladsome Ocean! 159. God's child in Christ adopted,-Christ my all, 210. Good Candle, thou that with thy brother, Fire, 450. Good verse most good, and bad verse then seems Grant me a patron, gracious Heaven! whene'er, *Great goddesses are they to lazy folks, 465. HARTLEY fell down and hurt himself, 456. [521. 207. *Here lies a Poet; or what once was he, 645- Here lies the Devil-ask no other name, 447. *Here's Jem's first copy of nonsense verses, 465. *His native accents to her stranger's ear, 467. *How sweet, when crimson colours dart, 470. I ASK'D my fair one happy day, 144. *I have experienced the worst the world can I have heard of reasons manifold, 181. I heard a voice from Etna's side, 156. I hold of all our viperous race, 445. I know it is dark; and though I have lain, 168. I love, and he loves me again, 143. I mix in life, and labour to seem free, 64. 83. Last Monday all the papers said, 452. Late, late yestreen I saw the new Moon, 159. * I speak in figures, inward thoughts and woes, 643.*Light cargoes waft of modulated sound, 453. *I stand alone, nor tho' my heart should break, 467. I stood on Brocken's sovran height, and saw, 145. * Idly we supplicate the Powers above, 644. If Love be dead, 209. If Pegasus will let thee only ride him, 13. If the guilt of all lying consists in deceit, 443. If thou wert here, these tears were tears of light! If while my passion I impart, 33. In a cave in the mountains of Cashmeer, 457. In darkness I remain'd-the neighbour's clock, In Köhln, a town of monks and bones, 452. In this world we dwell among the tombs, 455. In vain we supplicate the Powers above, 209. * Into my Heart, as 'twere some magic glass, 637. It is an ancient Mariner, 95, 521. 512 Like a lone Arab, old and blind, 208. Like a mighty Giantess seiz'd in sore travail, 455. Lo! through the dusky silence of the groves, 19. Lovely gems of radiance meek, 12. Low was our pretty Cot: our tallest rose, 52. My heart seraglios a whole host of joys, 454. My Lord! though your Lordship repel deviation, 151. My Maker of thy power the trace, 185. My Merry men all, that drink with glee, 446. *NATURE wrote Rascal on his face, 455. No cloud, no relique of the sunken day, 131. No mortal spirit yet had clomb so high, 461. Not always should the tear's ambrosial dew, 40. Not, Stanhope! with the Patriot's doubtful name, 43. Of late, in one of those most weary hours, 204. *Oh! might my ill-past hours return again! 4- 454. Old Harpy jeers at castles in the air, 448. On stern Blencartha's perilous height, 175. On the wide level of a mountain's head, 187. Once more, sweet Stream! with slow foot One kiss, dear Maid! I said and sighed, 30. PAINS ventral, subventral, 452. Pale Roamer through the night! thou poor Parry seeks the Polar ridge, 451. Now! it is gone.-Our brief hours travel post, 181. * Pass under Jack's window at twelve at night, *O BEAUTY in a beauteous body dight! 461. O fair is Love's first hope to gentle mind! 193. O meek attendant of Sol's setting blaze, 11. more, 24. *O th' Oppressive, irksome weight, 461. O what a loud and fearful shriek was there, 39. No * O'er the raised earth the gales of evening sigh, 459. Of him that in this gorgeous tomb doth lie, 446. 447. |