A Collection of Poems: In Six Volumes, Том 6J. Hughs, 1765 |
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... round . and onward thence A low plain chapel fronts the morning light Fast by a filent riv'let . Humbly walk , Oftranger , o'er the confecrated ground ; And on that verdant hilloc , which thou see'st Befet with offers , let thy pious ...
... round . and onward thence A low plain chapel fronts the morning light Fast by a filent riv'let . Humbly walk , Oftranger , o'er the confecrated ground ; And on that verdant hilloc , which thou see'st Befet with offers , let thy pious ...
Страница 42
... round His monument with reverence while ye ftand , Say to each other : " This was Shakespear's form ; " Who walk'd in every path of human life , " Felt every paffion ; and to all mankind " Doth now , will ever that experience yield ...
... round His monument with reverence while ye ftand , Say to each other : " This was Shakespear's form ; " Who walk'd in every path of human life , " Felt every paffion ; and to all mankind " Doth now , will ever that experience yield ...
Страница 48
... Her fame and thine triumphant springs . What though the mould'ring columns fall , And ftrow the defart earth beneath , Though ivy round each nodding wall Entwine its fatal wreath , Yet Yet fay , can Rhine or Danube boast The numerous ( 48 )
... Her fame and thine triumphant springs . What though the mould'ring columns fall , And ftrow the defart earth beneath , Though ivy round each nodding wall Entwine its fatal wreath , Yet Yet fay , can Rhine or Danube boast The numerous ( 48 )
Страница 55
... round , Where slept the Heroes of the Julian name , Say , shall we linger still in thought profound , And meditate the mournful paths to fame ? What though no cypress fhades , in funeral rows , No sculptur'd urns , the last records of ...
... round , Where slept the Heroes of the Julian name , Say , shall we linger still in thought profound , And meditate the mournful paths to fame ? What though no cypress fhades , in funeral rows , No sculptur'd urns , the last records of ...
Страница 59
... round . All , all the charms ; but not alike to all ' Tis given to revel in her blissful bower ; Coercive ties , and Reafon's powerful call Bid fome but tafte the fweets , which fome devour . When Nature govern'd , and when Man was ...
... round . All , all the charms ; but not alike to all ' Tis given to revel in her blissful bower ; Coercive ties , and Reafon's powerful call Bid fome but tafte the fweets , which fome devour . When Nature govern'd , and when Man was ...
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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