No-Lady! Lady! keep the ring, 85. No, not for yourselves, ye reverend men, 659. No 't is not the region where Love 's to be Not long in bed had Lyndhurst lain, 677. Not many months have now been dreamed away, Novella, a young Bolognese, 712. Now Neptune's month our sky deforms, 51. O ABYSSINIAN tree, 318. Observe when mother earth is dry, 26. Of all my happiest hours of joy, 100. Of all speculations the market holds forth, 304. Of all the fair months, that round the sun, 205. Of all the odd plans of this monstrously queer Of old, the Sultan Genius reigned, 311. Oft have I seen, in gay, equestrian pride, 618. Oft, when the watching stars grow pale, 232. Oh! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the Oh, call it by some better name, 267. Oh, could we do with this world of ours, 218. 191. "Oh! haste and leave this sacred isle," 202. Oh, no-not even when first we loved, 225. Oh, teach me to love Thee, to feel what thou art, 247. Oh the days are gone when Beauty bright, 183. Oh! weep for the hour, 176. Oh Wellington and Stephenson, 671. Oh, where 's the slave so lowly, 195. Oh woman, if through sinful wile, 99. Oh, ye Dead! oh, ye Dead! whom we know by On beds of snow the moonbeam slept, 78. "Once more," said Jerome, "I'll run up and One bumper at parting! - tho' many, 189. One night the nymph called country dance, 308. O say, thou best and brightest, 236. Our earth, as it rolls through the regions of space, Our first young love resembles, 269. Our hearts, my love, were formed to be, 78. Our white sail caught the evening ray, 272. PAIN and sorrow shall vanish before us, 271. Per Post, Sir, we send your M.S.-lookt it Phillis, you little rosy rake, 99. Pity me, love! I'll pity thee, 97. Poor broken flower! what art can now recover Poor wounded heart, farewell, 267. - Puir, profligate Londoners, having heard tell, Pure as the mantle, which, o'er him who stood, Put off the vestal veil, nor, oh, 90. QUICK! We have but a second, 209. 608. "Return! 99 Rich and rare were the gems she wore, 173. Ripened by the solar beam, 47. Rose of the Desert! thou, whose blushing ray, Round the world goes, by day and night, 286. SAID a Sovereign to a Note, 586. Said Cotton to Corn, t' other day, 600. Said his Highness to Ned, with that grim face of Said Malthus one day to a clown, 615. Say, who was the wag, indecorously witty, 688. Sculptor, wouldst thou glad my soul, 14. See you, beneath yon cloud so dark, 157. Shall the Harp then be silent, when he who first "She has beauty, but still you must keep your She is far from the land where her young hero "She never looked so kind before," 76. Silent, oh Moyle, be the roar of thy water, 177. "Slumber, oh slumber; if sleeping thou mak'st," Smoothly flowing thro' verdant vales, 325. 244. So warmly we met and so fondly we parted, 222. Spirit of Love, whose locks unrolled, 52. Still, like dew in silence falling, 59. Strike the gay harp! see the moon is on high, 216. St. Sinclair rose and declared in sooth, 647. Sublime was the warning that Liberty spoke, 177. Sweet Innisfallen, fare thee well, 208. Sweet lady, look not thus again, 70. Sweet Moon! if, like Crotona's sage, 125. Sweet singer of Romaldkirk, thou who art reck- Sweet Sirmio! thou, the very eye, 302. TAKE back the sigh, thy lips of art, 103. Take hence the bowl;-tho' beaming, 231. Talk no more of your Cheltenham and Harrow- Tell her, oh, tell her, the lute she left lying, 268. "Tell me, what 's Love?" said Youth, one day, 641. The man who keeps a conscience pure, 578. Then, fare thee well, my own dear love, 226. The Phrygian rock, that braves the storm, 26. There are echoes, we know, of all sorts, 631. There are two Loves, the poet sings, 283. There comes a time, a dreary time, 225. There is some star- or may it be, 358. There's a song of the olden time, 276. There was a little Man and he had a little Soul, These few brief lines, my reverend friend, 778. 273. The song that lightens the languid way, 293. The wine-cup is circling in Almhin's hall, 218. The wreath you wove, the wreath you wove, They wove the lotus band to deck, 51. This life, dear Corry, who can doubt, 307. This life is all checkered with pleasures and This tribute 's from a wretched elf, 83. This wild Irish patient does pester me so, 656. "Tho' all the pet mischiefs we count upon fail," Tho' dark are our sorrows, to-day we 'll forget Tho' famed was Mesmer, in his day, 668. Tho' humble the banquet to which I invite thee, see, 172. Tho' 't is all but a dream at the best, 232. Thro' grief and thro' danger thy smile hath Thro' Manchester Square took a canter just now, 575. Thus did Soame Jenyns-tho' a Tory, 710. 'T is believed that this Harp, which I wake now 'Tis evening now; beneath the western star, 145. 'T is moonlight over Oman's Sea, 431. 'T is said- but whether true or not, 270. ing, 293. 'T is sweet to think, that, where'er we rove, 181. "T is the Vine! 't is the Vine!" said the cup- 'T is time, I feel, to leave thee now, 113. To catch the thought, by painting's spell, 109. To Ladies' eyes around, boy, 201. To Love, the soft and blooming child, 49. To no one Muse does she her glance confine, 99. To Swanage that neat little town in whose To thee, the Queen of nymphs divine, 50. T' other night, after hearing Lord Dudley's ora- To those we love we 've drank to-night, 314. Tried a new châlé gown on-pretty, 759. 'T was but for a moment-and yet in that time, 'T was evening time, in the twilight sweet, 602. 'T was graved on the Stone of Destiny, 651. 'T was night, and many a circling bowl, 35. 'T was one of those dreams, that by music are "I was on the Red Sea coast, at morn, we met, 114. 'T was when the world was in its prime, 482. UNBIND thee, love, unbind thee, love, 288. Up!" said the Spirit and ere I could pray, 597. Up with the sparkling briinmer, 349. VILL nobodies try my nice Annual Pill, 626. WAKE thee, my dearthy dreaming, 277. Wanted Authors of all-work to job for the "War against Babylon!" shout we around, 252. name, 171. When I am dead, 275. When I behold the festive train, 42. When I have seen thy snow-white wing, 126. When life looks lone and dreary, 295. When Love was a child, and went idling round, When Love, who ruled as Admiral o'er, 289. When on the lip the sigh delays, 266. When the first summer bee, 232. When the sad word, "Adieu," from my lip is nigh falling, 59.. When the wine-cup is smiling before us, 233. When thou shalt wander by that sweet light, While gazing on the moon's light, 180. While History's Muse the memorial was keep- While I touch the string, 226. While our rosy fillets shed, 37. While we invoke the wreathed spring, 43. Who d' ye think we 've got here? - quite re- Who has not felt how sadly sweet, 279. Who has not heard of the Vale of Cashmere, Who is the Maid my spirit seeks, 242. Who 'll buy a little boy? Look, yonder is he, 57. Who 'll buy?'t is Folly's shop, who 'll buy, Whose was the artist hand that spread, 45. Why does she so long delay, 58. Why is a Pump like Viscount Castlereagh, 576. With all my soul, then, let us part, 76. With triumph this morning, oh Boston! I hail, With twenty chords my lyre is hung, 51. With women and apples both Paris and Adam, 302. Wouldst know what tricks, by the pale moon- Would that I were a tuneful lyre, 52. Wo, wo unto him who would check or disturb Wreath the bowl, 200. Write on, write on, ye barons dear, 627. YES, be the glorious revel mine, 37. Yes, grief will have way- but the fast falling Yes! had I leisure to sigh and mourn, 85, 301. Yes, sad one of Sion, if closely resembling, 203. Yet, even here, tho' Fiction rules the hour, 297. You both remember well the day, 487. Young Love found a Dial once, in a dark shade, |