The Works of the Most Celebrated Minor Poets: Containing the Works of George Stepney, William Walsh, Thomas Tickell, Never Before Collected and Publish'd Together. Volume the second, Том 2

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F. Cogan, 1749 - 262 страници

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Страница 236 - In hymns of love, not ill essay'd below ? Or dost thou warn poor mortals left behind, A task well suited to thy gentle mind ? Oh, if sometimes thy spotless...
Страница 256 - By beauty dazzled, and bewitch'd by love : He longs, he burns to win the glorious prize, And fees no danger, while he fees her eyes. Now from each hoft the eager warriors ftart, And furious Albion flings his...
Страница 235 - Addison unpaid, Blame not her silence, Warwick, but bemoan, And judge, Oh judge, my bosom by your own. What mourner ever felt poetic fires ! Slow comes the verse that real woe inspires : Grief unaffected suits but ill with art, Or flowing numbers with a bleeding heart.
Страница 258 - At length awak'd (for what can long reftrain Unbody'd fpirits !) but awak'd in pain : And as he faw the defolated wood, And the dark den where once his empire flood...
Страница 248 - As through the regal dome fhe fought for prey; Obferv'd the infant Albion where he lay In mantles broider'd o'er with gorgeous pride, And ftole him from the fleeping mother's fide.
Страница 181 - Forfter's troops of raggamuffins ? In vain thy lads around thee bandy, Inflam'd with bagpipe and with brandy, Doth not bold Sutherland the trufty, With heart fo true, and voice fo rufty, (A loyal foul) thy troops affright, While hoarfely he demands the fight ? Do'ft thou not gen'rous Hay dread.. The braveft hand, the wifeft head ? Undaunted do'ft thou hear th...
Страница 33 - d fend the rogue in fetters bound To work in Bridewell, or to plough your ground : But, nobles, you who trace your birth from Troy, Think, you the great prerogative enjoy Of doing ill, by virtue of that race ; As if what we efteem in coblers bafe, Would the high family of Brutus grace. Shameful are thcfe examples, yet we...
Страница 257 - O'er foaming mountains, and through burfting tides, Now high, now low, the bounding chariot rides, 'Till through the Thames in a loud whirlwind's roar It moots, and lands him on the deftin'd fhore.
Страница 180 - Broke forth the prophet without breeches. " Into what ills betray'd, by thee, This ancient kingdom do I...
Страница 238 - COLIN AND LUCY. A BALLAD. OF Leinster, fam'd for maidens fair, Bright Lucy was the grace ; Nor e'er did Liffy's limpid stream Reflect so sweet a face : Till luckless love, and pining care, Impair'd her rosy hue, Her coral lips, and damask cheeks, And eyes of glossy blue. Oh ! have you seen a lily pale, When beating rains descend ? So droop'd the slow-consuming maid, Her life now near its end. By Lucy warn'd, of flattering...

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