A Collection of Poems: In Six Volumes, Том 6J. Hughs, 1765 |
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... virtue fhall be crown'd . II . 1 . Such was the Chian * father's ftrain To many a kind domeftic train , Whose pious hearth and genial bowl Had cheer'd the reverend pilgrim's foul : When , every hofpitable rite With equal bounty to ...
... virtue fhall be crown'd . II . 1 . Such was the Chian * father's ftrain To many a kind domeftic train , Whose pious hearth and genial bowl Had cheer'd the reverend pilgrim's foul : When , every hofpitable rite With equal bounty to ...
Страница 25
... virtue raise , Muft feel his own with all her spirit glow . III . I .. Are there , approv'd of later times , Whose verse adorn'd a * tyrant's crimes ? Who faw majestic Rome betray'd , And lent the imperial ruffian aid ? Alas ! not one ...
... virtue raise , Muft feel his own with all her spirit glow . III . I .. Are there , approv'd of later times , Whose verse adorn'd a * tyrant's crimes ? Who faw majestic Rome betray'd , And lent the imperial ruffian aid ? Alas ! not one ...
Страница 30
... virtue's worthlefs foes be falfe to glory too . But look on freedom . fee , through every age , What labours , perils , griefs , hath fhe difdain'd ! What arms , what regal pride , what priestly rage , · Have her dread offspring conquer ...
... virtue's worthlefs foes be falfe to glory too . But look on freedom . fee , through every age , What labours , perils , griefs , hath fhe difdain'd ! What arms , what regal pride , what priestly rage , · Have her dread offspring conquer ...
Страница 36
... virtue's early toils And her triumphal throne ! The fhade Of death , mean time , does oft invade Her progrefs ; nor , to us difplay'd , Wears the bright heroine her expected spoils . III . 2. Yet III . 2 . Yet born to conquer is her ( 36 )
... virtue's early toils And her triumphal throne ! The fhade Of death , mean time , does oft invade Her progrefs ; nor , to us difplay'd , Wears the bright heroine her expected spoils . III . 2. Yet III . 2 . Yet born to conquer is her ( 36 )
Страница 37
... virtue , public freedom vile ; Nor our own manners tempt us to disclaim That heritage , our nobleft wealth and fame , Which thou haft kept intire from force and factious C 3 [ guile . INSCRIP- INSCRIPTIONS T By the Same . I. For a ...
... virtue , public freedom vile ; Nor our own manners tempt us to disclaim That heritage , our nobleft wealth and fame , Which thou haft kept intire from force and factious C 3 [ guile . INSCRIP- INSCRIPTIONS T By the Same . I. For a ...
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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