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appear bear beauty beneath bloom breaſt breath bright bring charms clouds court dear death delight eyes face fair fall fame Fancy fate fear feel fields fight fire firſt flow give grace green grove hand head hear heart hill honour hope hour kind kings laſt laws lead learned leave light live Lord maid mind morn mourn Muſe muſt Nature never night nymphs o'er once pain peace plain pleaſe pleaſure pow'r praiſe pride riſe round ſay ſcene ſee ſhade ſhall ſhe ſhould ſmile ſoft ſome ſong ſoul ſtill ſtream ſuch ſweet tears tell thee theſe thine thoſe thou thought toil train truth vain virtue voice whoſe winds wiſh Written yield yonder youth
Страница 1 - 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 163 - On what foundation stands the warrior's pride, How just his hopes let Swedish Charles decide ; A frame of adamant, a soul of fire, No dangers fright him, and no labours tire ; O'er love, o'er fear, extends his wide domain, Unconquer'd lord of pleasure and of pain ; No joys to him pacific...
Страница 1 - Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the Poor. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave Await alike th' inevitable hour : — The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Страница 6 - There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
Страница 286 - I have found out a gift for my fair; I have found where the wood-pigeons breed; But let me that plunder forbear, She will say 'twas a barbarous deed...
Страница 10 - Thy form benign, oh goddess, wear, Thy milder influence impart, Thy philosophic train be there To soften, not to wound, my heart. The generous spark extinct revive Teach me to love, and to forgive, Exact my own defects to scan, What others are to feel, and know myself a Man.
Страница 6 - 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 2 - Lot forbad : nor circumscrib'd alone Their growing Virtues, but their Crimes confin'd ; Forbad to wade through Slaughter to a Throne, And...