Samuel Rogers Poems

Happy is he who loves companionship,
And lights on thee, Luigi. Thee I found,
Playing at Mora on the cabin-roof
...

Over how many tracts, vast, measureless,
Ages on ages roll, and none appear
Save the wild hunter ranging for his prey;
...

Boy, call the Gondola; the sun is set.----
It came, and we embarked; but instantly,
As at the waving of a magic wand,
...

It was St. Mary's Eve, and all poured forth
As to some grand solemnity. The fisher
Came from his islet, bringing o'er the waves
...

Let us lift up the curtain, and observe
What passes in that chamber. Now a sigh,
And now a groan is heard. Then all is still.
...

These grey majestic cliffs that tower to heaven,
These glimmering glades and open chestnut-groves,
That echo to the heifer's wandering bell,
...

Three leagues from Padua stands, and long has stood
(The Paduan student knows it, honours it)
A lonely tomb beside a mountain-church;
...

Ah! why with tell-tale tongue reveal
What most her blushes would conceal?
Why lift that modest veil to trace
The seraph-sweetness of her face?
...

Go--you may call it madness, folly;
You shall not chase my gloom away.
There's such a charm in melancholy,
I would not, if I could, be gay.
...

And dost thou still, thou mass of breathing stone,
(Thy giant limbs to night and chaos hurl'd)
Still sit as on the fragment of a world;
...