Fourth Day’s Interview

Fifth Day’s Interview

POEMS

She I love (alas in vain!)

Pleasure! why thus desert the heart

Past ruin’d Ilion Helen lives

Ianthe! you are call’d to cross the sea!

The gates of fame and of the grave

Twenty years hence my eyes may grow

Here, ever since you went abroad

Tell me not things past all belief

Proud word you never spoke, but you will speak

Fiesole Idyl

Ah what avails the sceptred race

With rosy hand a little girl prest down

Ternissa! you are fled!

Various the roads of life; in one

Yes; I write verses now and then

On seeing a hair of Lucretia Borgia

Once, and once only, have I seen thy face

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