The Festoon: A Collection of Epigrams, Ancient and Modern. Panegyrical, Satyrical, Amorous, Moral, Humorous, Monumental. With an Essay on that Species of CompositionRichard Graves Mess. Robinson and Roberts; and W. Frederick, at Bath, 1766 - 200 страници |
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Страница 66 - That which her slender waist confined, Shall now my joyful temples bind; No monarch but would give his crown, His arms might do what this has done. It was my heaven's extremest sphere, The pale which held that lovely deer. My joy, my grief, my hope, my love, Did all within this circle move! A narrow compass! and yet there Dwelt all that's good, and all that's fair; Give me but what this ribband bound, Take all the rest the sun goes round.
Страница 132 - For whilst to the shame of slow-endeavouring art Thy easy numbers flow, and that each heart Hath from the leaves of thy unvalued book Those Delphic lines with deep impression took, Then thou our fancy of itself bereaving, Dost make us marble with too much conceiving; And so sepulchred in such pomp dost lie, That kings for such a tomb would wish to die.
Страница 134 - This modest stone, what few vain marbles can, May truly say, Here lies an honest man : A poet, blest beyond the poet's fate, Whom Heaven kept sacred from the Proud and Great : Foe to loud praise, and friend to learned ease, Content with science in the vale of peace. Calmly he look'd on either life ; and here Saw nothing to regret, or there to fear ; From Nature's temperate feast rose satisfy'd, Thank'd heaven that he had liv'd, and that he dy'd.
Страница 66 - ON A GIRDLE THAT which her slender waist confined Shall now my joyful temples bind : No monarch but would give his crown His arms might do what this has done. It was my Heaven's extremest sphere, The pale which held that lovely deer : My joy, my grief, my hope, my love Did all within this circle move. A narrow compass ! and yet there Dwelt all that's good, and all that's fair : Give me but what this ribband bound, Take all the rest the Sun goes round.
Страница 129 - OH last and best of Scots ! who didst maintain Thy country's freedom from a foreign reign ; New people fill the land now thou art gone, New gods the temples, and new kings the throne. Scotland and thou did each in other live ; 5 Nor wouldst thou her, nor could she thee survive. Farewell, who dying didst support the state, And couldst not fall but with thy country's fate.
Страница 131 - Her speech was the melodious voice of Love, Her song the warbling of the vernal grove ; Her eloquence was sweeter than her song, Soft as her heart, and as her...
Страница 78 - See ! see, she wakes — Sabina wakes ! And now the sun begins to rise. Less glorious is the morn, that breaks From his bright beams, than her fair eyes. With light united, day they give ; But different fates ere night fulfil : How many by his warmth will live ! How many will her coldness kill...
Страница 149 - HERE rests his head upon the lap of earth, A youth to fortune and to fame unknown ; Fair science frowned not on his humble birth, And melancholy marked him for her own.
Страница 149 - 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 149 - 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 Honor comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay; And Freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there!