A Collection of Poems: In Six Volumes, Том 6J. Hughs, 1765 |
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... breast Which pines with filent passion ) he in vain Hath prov❜d ; to your deep mansions he defcends . Your gates of humid rock , your dim arcades , He entereth ; where impurpled veins of ore Gleam on the roof ; where through the rigid ...
... breast Which pines with filent passion ) he in vain Hath prov❜d ; to your deep mansions he defcends . Your gates of humid rock , your dim arcades , He entereth ; where impurpled veins of ore Gleam on the roof ; where through the rigid ...
Страница 20
... breast With verfe ; let him , fit votarist , implore Their inspiration . He perchance the gifts Of young Lyæus , and the dread exploits , May fing in apteft numbers : he the fate Of fober Pentheus , he the Paphian rites , And naked Mars ...
... breast With verfe ; let him , fit votarist , implore Their inspiration . He perchance the gifts Of young Lyæus , and the dread exploits , May fing in apteft numbers : he the fate Of fober Pentheus , he the Paphian rites , And naked Mars ...
Страница 38
... , Fresh garlands weave , and chace from all Each thing impure or noxious . Enter - in , O ftranger , undismay'd . nor bat nor toad my bounds Here Here lurks : and if thy breast of blameless thoughts ( 38 ) INSCRIPTIONS ...
... , Fresh garlands weave , and chace from all Each thing impure or noxious . Enter - in , O ftranger , undismay'd . nor bat nor toad my bounds Here Here lurks : and if thy breast of blameless thoughts ( 38 ) INSCRIPTIONS ...
Страница 39
In Six Volumes. Here lurks : and if thy breast of blameless thoughts Approve thee , not unwelcome shalt thou tread My quiet manfion : chiefly , if thy name Wife Pallas and the immortal Mufes own . II . For a Statue of CHAUCER at ...
In Six Volumes. Here lurks : and if thy breast of blameless thoughts Approve thee , not unwelcome shalt thou tread My quiet manfion : chiefly , if thy name Wife Pallas and the immortal Mufes own . II . For a Statue of CHAUCER at ...
Страница 60
... breast Each wish to combat , and each pain to bear ; Spurn with difdain th ' inglorious love of reft , Nor let the fyren Eafe approach thine ear . Beneath yon cypress shade's eternal green See proftrate Rome her wond'rous ftory tell ...
... breast Each wish to combat , and each pain to bear ; Spurn with difdain th ' inglorious love of reft , Nor let the fyren Eafe approach thine ear . Beneath yon cypress shade's eternal green See proftrate Rome her wond'rous ftory tell ...
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bard beauty behold beneath beſt bleffings bleft boaſt bofom breaſt cauſe charms Chlorinda diftant eaſe Ev'n facred fafe fage fair fame fate fcene feat fenfe fhade fhall fhew fhun figh filent fince firft firſt flow'rs fmile foft folar folemn fome fong fons foul freſh friendſhip ftands ftate ftill fuch fure fweet fwelling genius glory Goddeſs grace grove gueſt guife hand heart heav'n himſelf juft laſt Latian lefs loft lyre mind moſt Mufe muft Muſe muſt Naiads ne'er numbers Nymphs o'er paffion pain peace plain pleas'd pleaſe pleaſure pow'r praiſe purſue raiſe reft rife rofe ſcene ſhade ſhall ſhe ſhould ſky ſpeak ſpirit ſpread ſprings ſtate ſteps ſtill ſtrains ſtream ſweet taſk taſte thee thefe theſe thofe thoſe thou thouſand toil truth vale virtue Whilft whofe Whoſe wife wings wiſh youth
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Страница 387 - Hark, his hands the lyre explore ! Bright-eyed Fancy hovering o'er Scatters from her pidur'd urn Thoughts, that breathe, and words, that burn. But ah ! 'tis heard no more — Oh! Lyre divine, what daring Spirit Wakes thee now ? though he inherit Nor the pride, nor ample pinion, That the Theban Eagle bear Sailing with
Страница 391 - Thy fon is gone. He refts among the Dead. " The Swarm, that in thy noon-tide beam were born, " Gone to falute the rifing Morn. " Fair laughs the Morn, and foft the Zephyr blows, " While proudly riding o'er the azure realm
Страница 386 - This pencil take (fhe faid) whofe colours clear Richly paint the vernal year: Thine too thefe golden keys, immortal Boy ! This can unlock the gates of Joy ; Of Horrour that, and thrilling Fears, Or ope the facred fource of fympathetic Tears. III. 2.
Страница 384 - II. i. Man's feeble race what Ills await, Labour, and Penury, the racks of Pain, Difeafe, and Sorrow's weeping train, And Death, fad refuge from the ftorms of Fate ! The fond complaint, my Song, difprove, And juftify the laws of Jove. Say, has he given in vain the heav'nly Mufe ? Night, and all her fickly dews, Her
Страница 387 - tis heard no more — Oh! Lyre divine, what daring Spirit Wakes thee now ? though he inherit Nor the pride, nor ample pinion, That the Theban Eagle bear Sailing with fupreme dominion Through the azure deep of air: Yet oft before his infant eyes would run Such forms, as glitter in the Mufe's ray With orient hues, unborrow'd of the
Страница 389 - (Loofe his beard, and hoary hair Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air) And with a Matter's hand, and Prophet's fire, Struck the deep forrows of his lyre. * Hark, how each giant-oak, and defart cave, * Sighs to the torrent's
Страница 390 - The characters of hell to trace. " Mark the year, and mark the night, " When Severn fhall re-echo with affright " The fhrieks of death, through Berkley's roofs that ring, " Shrieks of an agonizing King! " She-Wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs,
Страница 382 - A WAKE, /Eolian lyre, awake, * And give to rapture all thy trembling firings. From Helicon's harmonious fprings A thoufand rills their mazy progrefs take: The laughing flowers, that round them blow, Drink life and fragrance as they flow. Now the ; rich ftream of mufic winds along Deep, majeftic, fmooth and ftrong, Through verdant vales, and Ceres' golden reign: Now rolling down the
Страница 390 - they lie, * Smear'd with gore, and ghaftly pale: * Far, far aloof th' affrighted ravens fail; * The famifh'd Eagle fcreams, and paffes by. * Dear loft companions of my tuneful art, * Dear, as the light, that vifits thefe fad eyes, * Dear, as the ruddy drops that warm my heart, ' Ye died amidft your dying country's cries — ' No more I weep. They do not deep.
Страница 391 - From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs *' The fcourge of Heav'n. What Terrors round him wait! ** Amazement in his van, with Flight combin'd, " And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind. II. 2. " Mighty Victor, mighty Lord, " Low on his funeral couch he lies ! " No pitying heart, no eye afford " A tear to grace his obfequies. »** Is the fable