Specimens of the British poets, Том 2W. Suttaby, 1809 |
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... rising morny The bonny grey - ey'd morning WILLIAM COLLINS . 1720-1756 . The Passions . - An Ode for Music Ode to Fear Ode to Evening Dirge in Cymbeline Page • 168 174 175 ib . 176 177 ib . · - 178 - 181 183 185 WILLIAM SHENSTONE . 1714 ...
... rising morny The bonny grey - ey'd morning WILLIAM COLLINS . 1720-1756 . The Passions . - An Ode for Music Ode to Fear Ode to Evening Dirge in Cymbeline Page • 168 174 175 ib . 176 177 ib . · - 178 - 181 183 185 WILLIAM SHENSTONE . 1714 ...
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... rise from trivial things , Ising - This verse to Caryl , muse ! is due : This , ev'n Belinda may vouchsafe to view : Slight is the subject , but not so the praise , If she inspire , and he approve my lays . Say what strange motive ...
... rise from trivial things , Ising - This verse to Caryl , muse ! is due : This , ev'n Belinda may vouchsafe to view : Slight is the subject , but not so the praise , If she inspire , and he approve my lays . Say what strange motive ...
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... rising towers , There stands a structure of majestic frame , Which from the neighbouring Hampton takes its name . Here Britain's statesmen oft the fall foredoom Of foreign tyrants , and of nymphs at home ; Here thou , great Anna ! whom ...
... rising towers , There stands a structure of majestic frame , Which from the neighbouring Hampton takes its name . Here Britain's statesmen oft the fall foredoom Of foreign tyrants , and of nymphs at home ; Here thou , great Anna ! whom ...
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... rising as the mists arise ; Dreadful , as hermits ' dreams in haunted shades , Or bright , as visions of expiring maids . Now glaring fiends , and snakes on rolling spires , Pale spectres , gaping tombs , and purple fires : Now lakes of ...
... rising as the mists arise ; Dreadful , as hermits ' dreams in haunted shades , Or bright , as visions of expiring maids . Now glaring fiends , and snakes on rolling spires , Pale spectres , gaping tombs , and purple fires : Now lakes of ...
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... rise , And bass and treble voices strike the skies . No common weapons in their hands are found , Like gods they fight , nor dread a mortal wound . So when bold Homer makes the gods engage , And heavenly breasts with human passions rage ...
... rise , And bass and treble voices strike the skies . No common weapons in their hands are found , Like gods they fight , nor dread a mortal wound . So when bold Homer makes the gods engage , And heavenly breasts with human passions rage ...
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beauty behold beneath blest bliss bloom bosom breast breath bright charms cheerful dear death delight dread dreams dydd e'er ECLOGUE Eurydice Ev'n ev'ry eyes fair fame Fancy fate fear flowers fond gentle glow golden reign grace grief groves hand hear heart Heav'n hour JOHN HENRY MOORE lord lov'd lyre maid maze of Fate mind MONODY morn mournful Muse Nature's ne'er night numbers nymph o'er pain pale peace pensive Petrarch pity pleas'd pleasure pow'r praise pray'r pride proud rage raptures reign rills rise round sacred scene scorn shade shine sighs sing skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound sprite strain sweet sweet oblivion sylphs tear tender Thalestris thee thine thou thought thro toil trembling Twas vale virtue wave weep wild wind wings wretch wyfe wylle wythe ynne youth
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Страница 192 - A stranger yet to pain! I feel the gales that from ye blow A momentary bliss bestow, As waving fresh their gladsome wing My weary soul they seem to soothe, And, redolent of joy and youth, To breathe a second spring.
Страница 325 - I forget the hallow'd grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met, To live one day of parting love? Eternity will not efface Those records dear of transports past; Thy image at our last embrace; Ah ! little thought we 'twas our last ! Ayr gurgling kiss'd his pebbled shore, O'erhung with wild woods, thick'ning green; The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar, Twined amorous round the raptured scene.
Страница 239 - And thou, sweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid, Still first to fly where sensual joys invade ; Unfit in these degenerate times of shame To catch the heart, or strike for honest fame ; Dear charming nymph, neglected and decried, My shame in crowds, my solitary pride ; Thou source of all my bliss, and all my woe, That found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so...
Страница 15 - Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows ; But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar: When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, The line too labours, and the words move slow : Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain, Flies o'er the unbending corn, and skims along the main. Hear how Timotheus...
Страница 14 - In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold; Alike fantastic, if too new, or old: Be not the first by whom the new are tried, Nor yet the last to lay the old aside.
Страница 189 - Await alike th' inevitable hour. The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault, If memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. Can storied urn, or animated bust, Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ? Can...
Страница 239 - tis hard to combat, learns to fly! For him no wretches, born to work and weep, Explore the mine, or tempt the dangerous deep...
Страница 188 - THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. 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 221 - Condemn'da needy supplicant to wait, While ladies interpose, and slaves debate. But did not Chance at length her error mend? Did no subverted empire mark his end? Did rival monarchs give the fatal wound? Or hostile millions press him to the ground? His fall was destin'd to a barren strand, A petty fortress, and a dubious hand; He left the name, at which the world grew pale, To point a moral, or adorn a tale.
Страница 316 - My lov'd, my honour'd, much respected friend! No mercenary bard his homage pays; With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end, My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise: To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays, The lowly train in life's sequester'd scene, The native feelings strong, the guileless ways, What Aiken in a cottage would have been; Ah! tho' his worth unknown, far happier there I ween! November chill blaws loud wi...