Egypt! from whose all dateless tombs arose Forgotten Pharaohs from their long repose, And shook within their pyramids to hear A new Cambyses thundering in their ear; While the dark shades of forty ages stood Like startled giants by Nile's famous flood.

As falls the dew on quenchless sands, blood only serves to wash ambition's hands.

When Bishop Berkeley said "there was no matter." And proved it--'t was no matter what he said.

For pleasures past I do not grieve, nor perils gathering near; My greatest grief is that I leave nothing that claims a tear.

I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs, A palace and a prison on each hand.

I had a dream, which was not at all a dream.

I really cannot know whether I am or am not the Genius you are pleased to call me, but I am very willing to put up with the mistake, if it be one.