The Works of the English Poets: With Prefaces, Biographical and Critical, Том 49Samuel Johnson C. Bathurst, 1779 |
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... happy nations catch the fong . What would not , Peace ! the patriot bear for thee ? What painful patience ? what inceffant care ? What mixt anxiety ? what fleepless toil ! Ev'n from the rafh protected what reproach For he thy value ...
... happy nations catch the fong . What would not , Peace ! the patriot bear for thee ? What painful patience ? what inceffant care ? What mixt anxiety ? what fleepless toil ! Ev'n from the rafh protected what reproach For he thy value ...
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... happy foils , That , but by labour's flightest aid impell❜d , With treasures teem to thy cold clime unknown ; If there defponding fail the common arts , And fuftenance of life : could life itself , Far lefs a thoughtlefs tyrant's ...
... happy foils , That , but by labour's flightest aid impell❜d , With treasures teem to thy cold clime unknown ; If there defponding fail the common arts , And fuftenance of life : could life itself , Far lefs a thoughtlefs tyrant's ...
Страница 39
... happy land ! Had not neglected Art , with weedy vice Confounded , funk . But if Athenian arts Lov'd not the foil ; yet there the calm abode Of wisdom , virtue , philofophic ease , Of manly fenfe and wit , in frugal phrafe Confin'd , and ...
... happy land ! Had not neglected Art , with weedy vice Confounded , funk . But if Athenian arts Lov'd not the foil ; yet there the calm abode Of wisdom , virtue , philofophic ease , Of manly fenfe and wit , in frugal phrafe Confin'd , and ...
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... heart , with playful art , His fimple question stole : as into truth , And ferious deeds , he fmil'd the laughing race ; 230 Taught moral happy life , whate'er can bless , Or 235 Or grace mankind ; and what he taught he 42 THOMSON'S POEMS .
... heart , with playful art , His fimple question stole : as into truth , And ferious deeds , he fmil'd the laughing race ; 230 Taught moral happy life , whate'er can bless , Or 235 Or grace mankind ; and what he taught he 42 THOMSON'S POEMS .
Страница 63
... happy Rome All peaceful smil'd , all fave the paffing clouds That often hang on Freedom's jealous brow ! And fair unblemish'd centuries elaps'd , When not a Roman bled but in the field . Their virtue fuch , that an unbalanc'd state ...
... happy Rome All peaceful smil'd , all fave the paffing clouds That often hang on Freedom's jealous brow ! And fair unblemish'd centuries elaps'd , When not a Roman bled but in the field . Their virtue fuch , that an unbalanc'd state ...
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Abra æther ANTISTROPHE beneath beſt blaſt bleft boaſt breaſt breathe Britiſh Britons charms chearful deep deferts Delia delight dreft eaſe eclogue Ev'n facred fafe fair fame fancy fcene fear fecret feems fhade fhall fhepherds fhore fighs filent fing firft firſt flame flaves focial foft fome fong fons footh foul fprings ftate ftill ftreams fuch funk fweet fwelling genius glory Goddeſs grace Greece heart heaven himſelf infpiring laft land laſt Liberty loft lov'd maid meaſure mind mix'd moſt Mufe Muſe muſt numbers nymph o'er paffions peace plain pleaſe pleaſure pour'd pride rage rais'd raiſe reafon reign rife rofe Rome round ſcene ſhade ſhall ſhe ſhore ſhould ſky ſmile ſpirit ſpread ſtate ſtill ſtorm ſtrain ſweet temperate vale tender thee thefe theſe thofe thoſe thou thouſand toil treaſure tyrant vale virtue waſte whofe whoſe wild wiſdom youth
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Страница 218 - How sleep the brave, who sink to rest, By all their country's wishes blest ! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung ; By forms unseen their dirge is sung : There Honour comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay ; And Freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there ! TO MERCY.
Страница 237 - Love framed with Mirth a gay fantastic round : Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound; And he, amidst his frolic play, As if he would the charming air repay, Shook thousand odours from his dewy wings.
Страница 235 - And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail. Still would her touch the strain prolong ; And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, She call'd on Echo still through all the song ; And where her sweetest theme she chose, A soft responsive voice was heard at every close ; And Hope enchanted smil'd, and wav'd her golden hair...
Страница 230 - While Spring shall pour his showers, as oft he wont> And bathe thy breathing tresses, meekest Eve ! While Summer loves to sport Beneath thy lingering light : While sallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves, Or Winter yelling through the troublous air, Affrights thy shrinking train, And rudely rends thy robes : So long, regardful of thy quiet rule, Shall Fancy, Friendship, Science, smiling Peace, Thy gentlest influence own, And love thy favourite name ! ODE TO PEACE.
Страница 280 - Who slept in buds the day, And many a Nymph who wreathes her brows with sedge And sheds the freshening dew, and lovelier still The pensive Pleasures sweet Prepare thy shadowy car.
Страница 235 - He threw his blood-stained sword in thunder down, And with a withering look The war-denouncing trumpet took, And blew a blast so loud and dread, Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe.
Страница 213 - O thou, whose spirit most possest The sacred seat of Shakspeare's breast! By all that from thy prophet broke. In thy divine emotions spoke ; Hither again thy fury deal, Teach me but once like him to feel : His cypress wreath my meed decree, And I, O Fear, will dwell with thee ! ODE TO SIMPLICITY.
Страница 244 - The redbreast oft, at evening hours, Shall kindly lend his little aid, With hoary moss, and gathered flowers, To deck the ground where thou art laid.
Страница 201 - What if the lion in his rage I meet ! — Oft in the dust I view his printed feet: And, fearful ! oft, when day's declining light Yields her pale empire to the mourner night, By hunger...
Страница 236 - When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue, Her bow across her shoulder flung, Her buskins gemmed with morning dew, Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung, — The hunter's call, to faun and dryad known!