Poems on Several Occasions: Epistles on several occasions. Tales. Eclogues. Miscellanies. Dione, a pastoral tragedy

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H. Lintot and J. and R. Tonson, 1752

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Страница 127 - Susan, Susan, lovely dear, My vows shall ever true remain ; Let me kiss off that falling tear ; We only part to meet again. Change as ye list, ye winds ; my heart shall be The faithful compass that still points to thee.
Страница 126 - Oh ! where shall I my true love find ? Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true, Does my sweet William sail among the crew ?" William, who high upon the yard, Rock'd with the billows to and fro, Soon as her well-known voice he heard, He sigh'd, and cast his eyes below.
Страница 67 - They send you to the ocean's shore, And plunge the patient o'er and o'er." The dame reply'd, "Alas! in vain My kindred forc'd me to the main ; Naked, and in the face of day : Look not, ye fishermen, this way ! What virgin had not done as I did ? My modest hand, by Nature guided, Debarr'd at once from human eyes The...
Страница 139 - Almighty Word obey'd, Thou wert ; and when the subterraneous flame Shall burst its prison, and devour this frame, From angry heav'n when the keen lightning flies, When fervent heat dissolves the melting skies, Thou still shalt be ; still, as thou wert before, And know no change, when time shall be no more. L O endless! thought divine! — Eternity, . Th...
Страница 57 - Who chofe with cautious ftep th' uncertain way ; And now he checks the rein, and halts to hear If any noife foretold a village near. At length from far a...
Страница 138 - While we in fleep's embraces wafte the night, The climes oppos'd enjoy meridian light: And when thofe lands the bufy fun forfakes, With us again the rofy morning wakes ; In lazy fleep the night rolls fwift away, And neither clime laments his abfent ray. When the pure foul is from the body flown, No more fhall night's alternate reign be known : The fun no more fhall rolling light beftow, But from th' Almighty ftreams of glory flow.
Страница 13 - Twas on the day that city dames repair To take their weekly dose of Hyde-Park air; When forth we trot: no carts the road infest, For still on Sundays country horses rest.
Страница 77 - He praise their wisdom, they admire his wit. No greyhound shall attend the tenant's pace, No rusty gun the farmer's chimney grace; Salmons shall leave their covers void of fear, Nor dread the thievish net or triple spear; Poachers shall tremble at his awful name, Whom vengeance now o'ertakes for murder'd game.
Страница 129 - Love in cities never dwells, He delights in rural cells Which sweet woodbine covers. What are your Assemblies then ? There, 'tis true, we see more men ; But much fewer lovers.
Страница 140 - No more thy blood its narrow channels warm. Who then would wish to stretch this narrow span, To suffer life beyond the date of man? The virtuous soul pursues a nobler aim. And life regards but as a fleeting dream: She longs to wake, and wishes to get free, To launch from earth into eternity.

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