Miscellanies in Prose and Verse Intended as a Specimen of the Types: At the Logographic Printing Office |
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Страница vii
... Printers to whom I have been able to trace it ; it is natural to men of grovelling minds , that they should envy a person who was likely to obtain a share of public public favour ; but I feel myself hurt indeed at INTRODUCTION . vii.
... Printers to whom I have been able to trace it ; it is natural to men of grovelling minds , that they should envy a person who was likely to obtain a share of public public favour ; but I feel myself hurt indeed at INTRODUCTION . vii.
Страница viii
public favour ; but I feel myself hurt indeed at finding , that among those who strive to injure me in my arduous undertaking , there are some whom I once reckoned my friends : but I now plainly see they were mere funshine friends ...
public favour ; but I feel myself hurt indeed at finding , that among those who strive to injure me in my arduous undertaking , there are some whom I once reckoned my friends : but I now plainly see they were mere funshine friends ...
Страница 13
True to my heart , I seldom roam , Because I find my joys at home : For foreign visits then begin , When the man feels a void within . But But tho ' from towns and crouds I fly , IN VERSE AND PROSE . 13.
True to my heart , I seldom roam , Because I find my joys at home : For foreign visits then begin , When the man feels a void within . But But tho ' from towns and crouds I fly , IN VERSE AND PROSE . 13.
Страница 67
... Thy philosophic train be there To foften , not to wound my heart : The gen'rous spark extinct revive , Teach me to love , and to forgive , Exact my own defects to scan , What others are to feel , and know myself a man .
... Thy philosophic train be there To foften , not to wound my heart : The gen'rous spark extinct revive , Teach me to love , and to forgive , Exact my own defects to scan , What others are to feel , and know myself a man .
Страница 100
... Each maiden with despair ; And tho ' by all a wonder own'd , Yet knew not she was fair : 1 Till EDWIN came , the pride of swains , A foul that knew no art , And from whose eyes serenely mild , Shone forth the feeling heart .
... Each maiden with despair ; And tho ' by all a wonder own'd , Yet knew not she was fair : 1 Till EDWIN came , the pride of swains , A foul that knew no art , And from whose eyes serenely mild , Shone forth the feeling heart .
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anger appear arms beauty becauſe beneath beſt breaſt charms death earth equal ev'ry eyes face fair fame fear feel fight fire firſt fome fond give grace grief hand happy hath head hear heart heav'n himſelf honour hour human joys juſt kind laws leave light live look maid maſter meet merit mind morn moſt muſt nature never night o'er once pain paſſion peace pity play pleaſing pleaſure poor pow'r praiſe pride reaſon reſentment reſt riſe round ſame ſaw ſay ſcene ſee ſeen ſenſe ſhade ſhall ſhe ſhould ſmile ſome ſoul ſtate ſtill ſuch ſweet tear tell thee theſe things thoſe thou thought thro true truth turn Twas uſeful virtue voice wealth whole whoſe young youth
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Страница 142 - Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, "Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, To meet the sun upon the upland lawn; "There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
Страница 143 - Here rests his head upon the lap of earth A youth, to fortune and to fame unknown: Fair science frown'd not on his humble birth, And melancholy mark'd him for her own. Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere...
Страница 87 - Swinging slow with sullen roar; Or if the air will not permit, Some still removed place will fit, Where glowing embers through the room Teach light to counterfeit a gloom...
Страница 139 - The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Await alike th
Страница 142 - Ev'n from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, Ev'n in our ashes live their wonted fires. For thee, who mindful of th...
Страница 142 - There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch. And pore upon the brook that babbles by. Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn, Mutt'ring his wayward fancies he would rove ; Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn, Or craz'd with care, or cross'd in hopeless love.
Страница 138 - THE CURFEW tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The plowman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Страница 168 - Without a vain, without a grudging heart, To him who gives us all, I yield a part ; From him you come, for him accept it here, A frank and sober, more than costly cheer.
Страница 89 - And when the Sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring To arched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown that Sylvan loves Of Pine, or monumental Oak, Where the rude Axe with heaved stroke, Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt.
Страница 142 - One morn I missed him on the customed hill, Along the heath and near his favorite tree; Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; "The next with dirges due in sad array Slow through the churchway path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay, Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.