The Works of the English Poets, Том 26Samuel Johnson C. Bathurst, 1779 |
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... fing , Paft by their facred hill , and sweet Caftalian fpring . But nobler thoughts the victor prince employ , And raise his heart with high triumphant joy ; From hence a better course of time rolls on , } 170 And whiter days fucceffive ...
... fing , Paft by their facred hill , and sweet Caftalian fpring . But nobler thoughts the victor prince employ , And raise his heart with high triumphant joy ; From hence a better course of time rolls on , } 170 And whiter days fucceffive ...
Страница 17
... fing , 270 280 The breathing pipe shall swell , shall found the trem- bling ftring . O happy thou where peace for ever smiles , Britannia ! nobleft of the ocean's ifles , Fair queen who doft amidst thy waters reign , And ftretch thy ...
... fing , 270 280 The breathing pipe shall swell , shall found the trem- bling ftring . O happy thou where peace for ever smiles , Britannia ! nobleft of the ocean's ifles , Fair queen who doft amidst thy waters reign , And ftretch thy ...
Страница 57
... fing , And tune high numbers to the vocal string , With jealous eyes beheld the bounteous king . Forbear , he cry'd , to rob me of my share ; Our common favourite is our common care . Honours and wealth thy grateful hand may give ; But ...
... fing , And tune high numbers to the vocal string , With jealous eyes beheld the bounteous king . Forbear , he cry'd , to rob me of my share ; Our common favourite is our common care . Honours and wealth thy grateful hand may give ; But ...
Страница 68
... fing ; She bids the winter fly away , And the recalls the spring . SONG , THE FAIR INCONSTANT . H E. INCE I have long lov'd you in vain , SINCE And doted on every feature ; Give me at length but leave to complain Of fo ungrateful a ...
... fing ; She bids the winter fly away , And the recalls the spring . SONG , THE FAIR INCONSTANT . H E. INCE I have long lov'd you in vain , SINCE And doted on every feature ; Give me at length but leave to complain Of fo ungrateful a ...
Страница 83
... fing . Not , Danube , thou whofe winding flood So long has blufh'd with Turkish blood , To Cæfar fhall refufe a ftrain , Since now thy streams without a stain Run crystal as their spring . CHORUS . To mighty George , that heals thy ...
... fing . Not , Danube , thou whofe winding flood So long has blufh'd with Turkish blood , To Cæfar fhall refufe a ftrain , Since now thy streams without a stain Run crystal as their spring . CHORUS . To mighty George , that heals thy ...
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Често срещани думи и фрази
Ah willow Albion's arms Atreus Atrides beneath blefs bleft blood boaſt breaſt Britain's Britannia's Britiſh brow Cæfar's cauſe charms crown diftant divine doft dreadful Ev'n eyes facred fafe faid fair fam'd fame fate fatire fceptre fcorn fear feas fecret fhade fhall fhining fhore fhould fide fight filent fing fire firft firſt fix'd flain fleep fmiling foes fome fong footh foul ftand ftill ftreams fuch fwain fweet fwell fword Gaul goddeſs gods grace hand heart heaven hecatomb hero himſelf Iliad Jove juſt kings lefs lyre maid monarch mortal Mufe Muſe muſt ne'er Nereids numbers nymph o'er paffion peace pleaſure praiſe pride prieſt race rage raiſe reign rife riſe ſhade ſhall ſhare ſhe ſhine ſhore ſkies ſmile ſpeak ſpread ſpring ſtand ſtars ſtate ſtill ſtood ſweet thee thefe theſe thine thofe thoſe thou thought thouſand verſe whofe whoſe youth
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Страница 187 - Oh judge, my bosom by your own. What mourner ever felt poetic fires ! Slow comes the verse that real woe inspires : Grief unaffected suits but ill with art, Or flowing numbers with a bleeding heart.
Страница 195 - Tyber's fhore, (Nor mean the tafk) each breathing buft explore, Line after line with painful patience trace, This Roman grandeur, that Athenian grace ; Vain care of parts ; if, impotent of foul, Th...
Страница 53 - The last humble boon that I crave, Is to shade me with cypress and yew; And when she looks down on my grave, Let her own that her shepherd was true. " Then to her new love let her go, And deck her in golden array, Be finest at...
Страница 189 - Or dost thou warn poor mortals left behind, A task well suited to thy gentle mind? Oh ! if sometimes thy spotless form descend : To me, thy aid, thou guardian genius, lend ! When rage misguides me, or when fear alarms, When pain distresses, or when pleasure charms, In silent whisperings purer thoughts impart, And turn from ill, a frail and feeble heart ; Lead through the paths thy virtue trod before, Till bliss shall join, nor death can part us more.
Страница 124 - O'er his paternal hills of snow, And into these tremendous speeches Broke forth the prophet without breeches.
Страница 206 - The Sun's meridian rays Veil the horizon in one mighty blaze : Nor moon nor star in Heaven's blue arch is seen With kindly rays to silver o'er the green, Grateful to fairy eyes ; they secret take Their rest, and only wretched mortals wake.
Страница 120 - And view the hero with insatiate eyes. ' In Haga's towers he waits, till eastern gales Propitious rise to swell the British sails. Hither the fame of England's monarch brings The vows and friendships of the neighb'ring kings; Mature in wisdom, his extensive mind Takes in the blended interests of mankind, The world's great patriot.
Страница 190 - If pensive to the rural shades I rove, His shape o'ertakes me in the lonely grove: Twas there of Just and Good he...
Страница 109 - Accept, great Anne, the tears their memory draws, Who nobly perish'd in their sovereign's cause : For thou in pity bid'st the war give o'er, Mourn'st thy slain heroes, nor wilt venture more. Vast price of blood on each victorious day ! (But Europe's freedom doth that price repay.) Lamented triumphs ! when one breath must tell That Marlborough conquer'd, and that Dormer fell.
Страница 200 - Midst greens and sweets, a regal fabric, stands, And sees each spring, luxuriant in her bowers, A snow of blossoms, and a wild of flowers, The dames of Britain oft in crowds repair To gravel walks, and unpolluted air. Here, while the town in damps and darkness lies, They breathe in sunshine, and see azure skies ; Each walk, with robes of various dyes bespread, Seems from afar a moving tulip-bed, Where rich brocades and glossy damasks glow, And chints, the rival of the showery bow.