Were by Prometheus implored, comfort to give to his race;But though so light to the gods, too heavy for man was their burden,
1770.-----WITH A GOLDEN NECKLACE.
1808.*-----THE LEGEND OF THE HORSESHOE.
Then I pluck'd some pigeons tenderFor the fox of jackal-genius,
Death hath He slain;
THE three holy kings with their star's bright ray,--They eat and they drink, but had rather not pay;They like to eat and drink away,They eat and drink, but had rather not pay.
Grateful are the cooling breezes
Around the past, as round the future twined,
THE MORE PERFECT ANGELS.
Fails in conception; wherefore fails it so?