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Abra Alcaeus Amid ancient ANTISTROPHE arts Athens awful Baiae beam behold beneath bless'd bliss boast breathing Britain Britons charms Circassia Corruption dark death deep delight dread dress'd e'en E’en earth ECLOGUE Epaminondas fair fame Fancy Fate fire flame flood Freedom Gaul genius glory Goddess grace Greece grove hand happy heart Heaven Hence honour isle Isthmian games Italy join'd kings land Latium Liberty light lyre maid mankind mind mingled mix'd mix’d mountains Muse Musidora ne'er numbers nymph o'er pass'd passion peace Persian plain pomp pour'd pride race rage reign rise Roman Rome round ruin sacred Sarmatia scene shade shine shore Silures slaves smile soft song sons soul spirit spread storm strain stream sunk swain sweet swelling tear tempest tender thee thine thou toil touch'd trembling truth tyrant vale virtue waste waves whence wild winds youth
Страница 227 - Tempe's vale, her native maids, Amidst the festal sounding shades, To some unwearied minstrel dancing, While, as his flying fingers kissed the strings, 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 226 - Pour'd through the mellow horn her pensive soul : And dashing soft from rocks around Bubbling runnels join'd the sound ; Through glades and glooms the mingled measure stole, Or, o'er some haunted stream, with fond delay, Round an holy calm diffusing, Love of peace, and lonely musing, In hollow murmurs died away.
Страница 224 - WHEN Music, heavenly maid, was young, While yet in early Greece she sung, The Passions oft, to hear her shell, Throng'd around her magic cell...
Страница 217 - 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 177 - Still more majestic shalt thou rise, More dreadful from each foreign stroke; As the loud blast that tears the skies Serves but to root thy native oak.
Страница 177 - The Muses, still with freedom found, Shall to thy happy coast repair: Blest isle! with matchless beauty crowned, And manly hearts to guard the fair. 'Rule, Britannia, rule the waves; Britons never will be slaves.
Страница 166 - Tell me, thou soul of her I love, Ah ! tell me, whither art thou fled ; To what delightful world above, Appointed for the happy dead? Or dost thou, free, at pleasure, roam And sometimes share thy lover's woe...
Страница 229 - mid the varied landscape weep. But thou, who own'st that earthly bed, Ah! what will every dirge avail; Or tears, which Love and Pity shed, That mourn beneath the gliding sail? Yet lives there one whose heedless eye Shall scorn thy pale shrine glimmering near ? With him, sweet bard, may Fancy die, And Joy desert the blooming year.
Страница 210 - And hid'st in wreaths of flowers his bloodless sword ! Thou who, amidst the deathful field, By godlike chiefs alone beheld, Oft with thy bosom bare art found, Pleading for him the youth who sinks to ground : See, Mercy, see, with pure and loaded hands, Before thy shrine my country's genius stands, And decks thy altar still, tho' pierc'd with many a wound ! ANTISTROPHE.
Страница 239 - There, must thou wake, perforce, thy Doric quill: 'Tis Fancy's land to which thou sett'st thy feet; Where still, 'tis said, the fairy people meet, Beneath each birken shade, on mead or hill. There, each trim lass, that skims the milky store, To the swart tribes their creamy bowls allots ; By night they sip it round the cottage door, While airy minstrels warble jocund notes.