A Collection of Poems in Six Volumes. By Several Hands, Том 6Robert Dodsley J. Hughs, 1765 |
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Страница 14
... voice Denounc'd her terrours on their impious heads , And fhook her burning Ægis . Xerxes faw : From Heracleum , on the mountain's height Thron'd in his golden car , he knew the fign Cœleftial ; felt unrighteous hope forsake His ...
... voice Denounc'd her terrours on their impious heads , And fhook her burning Ægis . Xerxes faw : From Heracleum , on the mountain's height Thron'd in his golden car , he knew the fign Cœleftial ; felt unrighteous hope forsake His ...
Страница 18
... voices through the liquid air exalt , And fweep their lofty ftrings : those aweful ftrings , That charm the minds of Gods : that fill the courts Of wide Olympus with oblivion sweet Of evils , with immortal reft from cares ; Affuage the ...
... voices through the liquid air exalt , And fweep their lofty ftrings : those aweful ftrings , That charm the minds of Gods : that fill the courts Of wide Olympus with oblivion sweet Of evils , with immortal reft from cares ; Affuage the ...
Страница 19
... brandish'd Thyrfus , to the Phrygian pipe's Shrill voice , and to the clashing cymbals , mix'd With fhrieks and frantic uproar . May the Gods every unpolluted ear avert From B 2 Their г Their orgies ! If within the feats of men ( 19 )
... brandish'd Thyrfus , to the Phrygian pipe's Shrill voice , and to the clashing cymbals , mix'd With fhrieks and frantic uproar . May the Gods every unpolluted ear avert From B 2 Their г Their orgies ! If within the feats of men ( 19 )
Страница 26
... voice protect thy country's III . 3 . { fame . " Yet hence barbaric zeal His memory with unholy rage pursues ; While from these arduous cares of public weal She bids each bard begone , and reft him with his Muse . O fool ! to think the ...
... voice protect thy country's III . 3 . { fame . " Yet hence barbaric zeal His memory with unholy rage pursues ; While from these arduous cares of public weal She bids each bard begone , and reft him with his Muse . O fool ! to think the ...
Страница 52
... O dire effects of war ! D may ever more Through this fweet vale the voice of difcord cease ! A British bard to Gallia's fertile fhore Can wish the bleffings of eternal peace . Yet Yet fay , ye monks , ( beneath whofe mofs ( 52 )
... O dire effects of war ! D may ever more Through this fweet vale the voice of difcord cease ! A British bard to Gallia's fertile fhore Can wish the bleffings of eternal peace . Yet Yet fay , ye monks , ( beneath whofe mofs ( 52 )
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Често срещани думи и фрази
bard beauty behold beneath beſt beſtow bleffings bleft boaſt bofom breaſt charms Chlorinda cloſe diftant eaſe Ev'n facred fafe fage fair fame fate feat fenfe fhade fhall fhew fhine fide figh filent fince firſt flow'rs fmile foft folar folemn fome fong fons foul fpring freſh friendſhip ftate ftill fuch fure fweet genius glory Goddeſs grace grove gueſt hand heart heav'n himſelf inſpires juſt laſt lefs loft lyre mind moſt Mufe muft Muſe muſt Naiads ne'er numbers Nymphs o'er paffion peace plain pleas'd pleaſe pleaſure pow'r praiſe purſue raiſe reft reſt rife rofe ſcene ſhade ſhall ſhe ſhould ſky ſmile ſome ſpeak ſpirit ſpread ſtand ſtate ſteps ſtill ſtood ſtrains ſtream ſtrong ſweet taſk taſte thee theſe thofe thoſe thou thouſand toil truth vale virtue Whilft whofe Whoſe wife wings Wiſdom youth
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Страница 391 - On a rock, whose haughty brow Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, Robed in the sable garb of woe, With haggard eyes the Poet stood ; Loose his beard, and hoary hair Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air And, with a Master's hand, and Prophet's fire, Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.
Страница 397 - That lost in long futurity expire. Fond impious man, think'st thou yon sanguine cloud Raised by thy breath, has quench'd the orb of day? To-morrow he repairs the golden flood And warms the nations with redoubled ray. Enough for me : with joy I see The different doom our fates assign : Be thine Despair and sceptred Care, To triumph and to die are mine.
Страница 392 - Far, far aloof th' affrighted ravens sail ; The famish'd eagle screams, and passes by. Dear lost companions of my tuneful art, Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes, Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart, Ye died amidst your dying country's cries — No more I weep. They do not sleep. On yonder cliffs, a...
Страница 392 - Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart, Ye died amidst your dying country's cries — No more I weep : they do not sleep ! On yonder cliffs, a grisly band, I see them sit; they linger yet Avengers of their native land : With me in dreadful harmony they join, And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line.
Страница 389 - Closed his eyes in endless night. Behold where Dryden's less presumptuous car Wide o'er the fields of Glory bear Two coursers of ethereal race, With necks in thunder clothed, and long-resounding pace Hark, his hands the lyre explore! Bright-eyed Fancy, hovering o'er, Scatters from her pictured urn Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn. But ah ! 'tis heard no more — Oh ! Lyre divine, what daring Spirit Wakes thee now ! Tho...
Страница 392 - With me in dreadful harmony they join, And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line. II. 1 'Weave the warp and weave the woof, The winding-sheet of Edward's race; Give ample room and verge enough The characters of hell to trace...
Страница 393 - Fair laughs the Morn, and soft the zephyr blows, While proudly riding o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes: Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm: Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, That hush'd in grim repose expects his evening prey.
Страница 385 - Perching on the sceptred hand Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feather'd king With ruffled plumes, and flagging wing : Quench'd in dark clouds of slumber lie The terror of his beak, and lightnings of his eye.
Страница 389 - Yet shall he mount, and keep his distant way Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate ; Beneath the good how far — but far above the great ! ODE VI.
Страница 388 - This pencil take (she said), whose colours clear Richly paint the vernal year : Thine too these golden keys, immortal Boy ! This can unlock the gates of joy ; Of horror that...