
Amelia Opie
To Laura
Cease,
Laura, cease, suspect no
This careless heart has learnt to love,
Because on yonder lonely shoreI still at pensive evening rove;
To Henry
Think not, while fairer nymphs
Thy feet, dear youth, to Pleasure's bowers,
My faded form shall meet thy sight,
And cloud my Henry's smiling hours
To Henry Written to a Russian Air
How I hail this morn's appearing
It will thee, my love, restore:
Safety danger past endearing, Sure we meet to part no more
Fame is thine, lo
Lines on the Opening of a Spring Campaign
Spring
thy impatient bloom restrain
Nor wake so soon thy genial power;
For deeds of death must hail thy reign,
Lines Written At Norwich On The First News Of Peace
What means that wild and joyful cry
Why do yon crowds in mean attire Throw thus their ragged arms on high
In want what can such joy inspire
And why on every face I meet Now beams a smile, now drops a tear
Stanzas to Cynthio
As o'er the sands the youthful Cynthio strayed,
Moist from the wave he saw a pebble shine,
While, with its borrowed lustre charmed, he said"Henceforth this sparkling treasure shall be mine
"But when his hand had dried the ...
On the Place de la Concorde
[Originally called the Place de Louis Seize,—next the Place de
Revolution, where the perpetual guillotine stood
]Proud Seine, along thy winding
Fair smiles yon plain expanding wide,
While many a fond and blooming maid
LE many a fond and blooming maid Attempts thy heart to gain;
And, by thy fatal smile betrayed, Thinks not she strives in vain:
While in those eyes of tender blue They answering passion see,
And in thy sweet expression view The charm...
Song While many a fond
LE many a fond and blooming maid Attempts thy heart to gain;
And, by thy fatal smile betrayed, Thinks not she strives in vain:
While in those eyes of tender blue They answering passion see,
And in thy sweet expression view The charm...
Love Elegy to Henry
Then thou hast learnt the secret of my soul,
Officious Friendship has its trust betrayed;
No more I need the bursting sigh control,
Nor summon pride my struggling soul to aid
The Origin of the Sail
"Sweet maid
on whom my wishes rest,
My morning thought, my midnight dream,
O grant Lysander's fond request,
The Moon and the Comet
This fact is clear…
Both man and
Prize not what's good, but what's uncommon ;
And most delighted still they are,