The Union: Or, Select Scots and English Poems, Том 1Thomas Warton R. Baldwin, 1759 - 152 страници |
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Страница 32
... Tell me the path , fweet wand'rer , tell , To thy unknown fequefter'd cell , Where woodbines clufter round the door , Where fhells and mofs o'erlay the floor ; And on whofe top an hawthorn blows , Amid whofe thickly - woven boughs Some ...
... Tell me the path , fweet wand'rer , tell , To thy unknown fequefter'd cell , Where woodbines clufter round the door , Where fhells and mofs o'erlay the floor ; And on whofe top an hawthorn blows , Amid whofe thickly - woven boughs Some ...
Страница 52
... tell . ' Tis his alike the ear and eye to charm , To win with action , and with fenfe to warm ; Untaught in flow'ry diction to dispense The lulling founds of fweet impertinence ; In frowns or fmiles he gains an equal prize , Nor meanly ...
... tell . ' Tis his alike the ear and eye to charm , To win with action , and with fenfe to warm ; Untaught in flow'ry diction to dispense The lulling founds of fweet impertinence ; In frowns or fmiles he gains an equal prize , Nor meanly ...
Страница 72
... tell " Of juftice , fortitude and public weal , " And oft the while each rigid precept smooth " With winning tokens of parental love ! " Thus my o'erweening heart the secret stores Of Britain's hope explor'd , while my ftrain'd fight ...
... tell " Of juftice , fortitude and public weal , " And oft the while each rigid precept smooth " With winning tokens of parental love ! " Thus my o'erweening heart the secret stores Of Britain's hope explor'd , while my ftrain'd fight ...
Страница 94
... pearke , in dalliance , She bragly turned her ungentle face , And all difdaining ey'd my shape askaunce : But I did blush , with grief and shame yblent , Like morning - rose with hoary dewe besprent . III . Tell me , my fellows all , am 94.
... pearke , in dalliance , She bragly turned her ungentle face , And all difdaining ey'd my shape askaunce : But I did blush , with grief and shame yblent , Like morning - rose with hoary dewe besprent . III . Tell me , my fellows all , am 94.
Страница 95
Or, Select Scots and English Poems Thomas Warton. III . Tell me , my fellows all , am I not fair ? Has fell enchantress blasted all her charms ? Whilom mine head was fleek with treffed hayre , My laughing eyne did shoot out love's alarms ...
Or, Select Scots and English Poems Thomas Warton. III . Tell me , my fellows all , am I not fair ? Has fell enchantress blasted all her charms ? Whilom mine head was fleek with treffed hayre , My laughing eyne did shoot out love's alarms ...
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beauty beneath blaſt bleffings bluſh bow'rs breaſt breathe brow caufe chearful crown'd erft ev'ning ev'ry facred fage fair fame fang fcene fcorn feems feen fhade fhall fhine fhrill ficht filent filver fimple fing firſt flain fleep flower fmiles foft folemn fome fong fons footh foul frae Freedom calls freſh ftand ftill ftrain fuch fwain fweet fwell fword Goddeſs green Hail hand HARDYKNUTE hear heart Heav'n ISIS king lov'd lufty lyre maid majeſtic mufing muſe Norfe numina nymph o'er peace penfive plain pleaſe pow'r praiſe prince Queen Quhen rage reaſon reft reign reſt rife ſcene Scotland ſhade ſhall ſhe ſkies ſky ſome ſpread ſpring ſtand ſtate ſteps ſtill ſtream ſtrong ſweet tear tender thee theſe thine THOMAS WARTON thoſe thou thro throne tow'rs vale vermil virtue whofe Whoſe zour
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Страница 68 - 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 66 - Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke; How jocund did they drive their team afield! How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!
Страница 65 - THE CURFEW tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The plowman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Страница 65 - 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 68 - There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noon-tide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
Страница 69 - 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 65 - Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
Страница 66 - And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Awaits alike th' inevitable hour: The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Страница 40 - Whose numbers, stealing through thy darkening vale, May not unseemly with its stillness suit ; As musing slow I hail Thy genial loved return. For when thy folding-star * arising shows His paly circlet, at his warning lamp The fragrant Hours, and Elves 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 66 - Rich with the fpoils of time did ne'er unroll ; Chill Penury reprefs'd their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the foul.