| MILL AT LISSOY (Frontispiece). |
| PAGE |
| GOLDSMITH'S TOMB IN THE TEMPLE CHURCHYARD | xvii |
| THE TRAVELLER. |
| Or where Campania's plain forsaken lies | 5 |
| Bless'd that abode, where want and pain repair | 6 |
| Even now, where Alpine solitudes ascend | 7 |
| Ye lakes, whose vessels catch the busy gale | 8 |
| The shuddering tenant of the frigid zone | 9 |
| Basks in the glare, or stems the tepid wave | 10 |
| While oft some temple's mouldering tops between | 12 |
| In florid beauty groves and fields appear | 13 |
| A mistress or a saint in every grove | 14 |
| Where the bleak Swiss their stormy mansions tread | 16 |
| With patient angle trolls the finny deep | 17 |
| How often have I led thy sportive choir | 18 |
| The willow-tufted bank, the gliding sail | 21 |
| There gentle music melts on every spray | 24 |
| Where wild Oswego spreads her swamps around | 27 |
| THE DESERTED VILLAGE. |
| The never-failing brook, the busy mill | 32 |
| The shelter'd cot, the cultivated farm | 33 |
| And many a gambol frolick'd o'er the ground | 34 |
| The hollow-sounding bittern guards its nest | 35 |
| Where once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew | 37 |
| The swain responsive as the milk-maid sung | 38 |
| And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made | 39 |
| To pick her wintry faggot from the thorn | 40 |
| The village preacher's modest mansion rose | 41 |
| Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride | 42 |
| At church, with meek and unaffected grace | 43 |
| Low lies that house, where nut-brown draughts inspir'd | 45 |
| No more the farmer's news, the barber's tale | 45 |
| Space for his lake, his park's extended bounds | 48 |
| Where the poor houseless, shivering female lies | 50 |
| Her modest looks the cottage might adorn | 51 |
| Where crouching tigers wait their hapless prey | 52 |
| The cooling brook, the grassy-vested green | 53 |
| And left a lover's for a father's arms | 54 |
| Downward they move, a melancholy band | 56 |
| THE HERMIT. |
| Then turn, to-night, and freely share whate'er my cell bestows | 58 |
| The hermit trimm'd his little fire, and cheer'd his pensive guest | 61 |
| And when, beside me in the dale; he caroll'd lays of love | 64 |
| THE CAPTIVITY. |
| Ye hills of Lebanon, with cedars crown'd | 69 |
| Fierce is the tempest rolling along the furrow'd main | 74 |
| As panting flies the hunted hind, where brooks refreshing stray | 80 |
| O Babylon! how art thou fall'n | 83 |
| THE HAUNCH OF VENISON | 90 |
| THE DOUBLE TRANSFORMATION | 102 |
| AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A MAD DOG | 109 |
| THRENODIA AUGUSTALIS | 116 |
| ON A BEAUTIFUL YOUTH STRUCK BLIND BY LIGHTNING | 125 |
| SONG—"THE THREE PIGEONS" | 130 |
| BIRDS | 142 |
| EPILOGUE WRITTEN FOR MR. CHARLES LEE LEWES | 162 |
