The British poetical miscellanySikes & Company, 1805 |
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... Pity 62. Epitaph on an Infant 63. The Rose 64. The Dog and the Water Lily . Anon . Coleridge . Cowper . Ibid . XII . 65. The Doublet of Grey . Mrs. Robinfon . 66. A Court Audience Anon . 67. The Winter's Day .. Anon . 68. To a Lady ...
... Pity 62. Epitaph on an Infant 63. The Rose 64. The Dog and the Water Lily . Anon . Coleridge . Cowper . Ibid . XII . 65. The Doublet of Grey . Mrs. Robinfon . 66. A Court Audience Anon . 67. The Winter's Day .. Anon . 68. To a Lady ...
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... pity to me . Then wave thy leaves brifker , thou willow of woe ! I tell thee no rage in her looks could I fee : I cannot , I will not believe it was fo ; She was not , fhe could not be angry with me . For well did she know that my heart ...
... pity to me . Then wave thy leaves brifker , thou willow of woe ! I tell thee no rage in her looks could I fee : I cannot , I will not believe it was fo ; She was not , fhe could not be angry with me . For well did she know that my heart ...
Страница 2
... pity them , For often he had hunger❜d too : And had he , to their pinching wants , The unnipp'd neighb'ring bounds deny'd , They fure had droop'd - as furely , too , The pitying fhepherd boy had dy'd . Then die ! -th ' unfeeling mafter ...
... pity them , For often he had hunger❜d too : And had he , to their pinching wants , The unnipp'd neighb'ring bounds deny'd , They fure had droop'd - as furely , too , The pitying fhepherd boy had dy'd . Then die ! -th ' unfeeling mafter ...
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... Pity the forrows of a poor old man , Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door ; Whose days are dwindled to the fhorteft fpan ; Oh [ 5 ] Elegy on my dying Afs, Peter Peter Pindar The Beggar's Petition Percival.
... Pity the forrows of a poor old man , Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door ; Whose days are dwindled to the fhorteft fpan ; Oh [ 5 ] Elegy on my dying Afs, Peter Peter Pindar The Beggar's Petition Percival.
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... pity would not be reprefs'd . " Heav'n fends misfortunes ; why should we repine ? ' Tis Heav'n has brought me to the state you fee ; And your condition may be foon like mine , The child of forrow and of mifery . " A little farm was my ...
... pity would not be reprefs'd . " Heav'n fends misfortunes ; why should we repine ? ' Tis Heav'n has brought me to the state you fee ; And your condition may be foon like mine , The child of forrow and of mifery . " A little farm was my ...
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anguiſh Bad Company behold beneath black crows bleffing bleft bofom breaſt breath BRITISH POETICAL MISCELLANY caft CHARLOTTE SMITH charms cloſe cold cry'd dear death defpair diftant doft dread dy'd E'en ev'ry eyes facred faid fair fate fcene fear feek feen fhade fhall fhore fhould fide figh filent fink fkies fleep flow'r fmile foft fome fong fons foon foothe forrow foul fpirits ftill ftranger ftream fuch fure fweet fwell grave grief hand hear heart Heav'n hour laft laſt life's loft lov'd maid morn mourn muft muſt ne'er o'er paffion pain peace PINDAR pity pleaſure poor pow'r reft rife rofe Sally Green ſcene ſhall ſhe ſkies ſky ſmile ſpot ſpread ſweet tear tender thee thefe theſe thine thofe thoſe thou toil tomb trembling Twas vale weeping whofe Whoſe wild wind wretched youth
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Страница 4 - One morn I missed him on the customed hill, Along the heath and near his favourite 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 church-way path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou can'st read) the lay, Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Страница 4 - 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 1 - The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care; No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
Страница 2 - Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the Poor. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave Await alike th' inevitable hour : — The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Страница 7 - How lov'd , how honour'd once , avails thee not, To whom related, or by whom begot; A heap of dust alone remains of thee, 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be!
Страница 1 - Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...
Страница 6 - What though no friends in sable weeds appear, Grieve for an hour, perhaps, then mourn a year, And bear about the mockery of woe To midnight dances, and the public show?
Страница 9 - Why did all-creating Nature Make the plant for which we toil ? Sighs must fan it, tears must water, Sweat of ours must dress the soil. Think, ye masters iron-hearted, Lolling at your jovial boards ; Think how many backs have smarted For the sweets your cane affords.