Rural Tales, Ballads, and Songs

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Vernor & Hood, 1802 - 119 страници
 

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Страница 58 - Again heap'd up, then down again ; The sand above more hollow grew, Like days and years still filtering through, And mingling joy and pain.
Страница 75 - The candle's gleam pierced through the night, Some short space o'er the green ; And there the little trotting sprite Distinctly might be seen. An...
Страница 96 - But ah ! ye cooling springs, farewell! Herds, I no more your freedom share ; But long my grateful tongue shall tell What brought your gazing stranger there.
Страница 105 - I strove, from that auspicious day, To meet and bless the lovely maid. I met her where beneath our feet Through downy moss the wild thyme grew; Nor moss elastic, flow'rs though sweet, Match'd Hannah's cheek of rosy hue.
Страница 74 - For much she fear'd the grisly ghost Would leap upon her back. Still on, pat, pat, the goblin went, As it had done before: Her strength and resolution spent, She fainted at the door.
Страница 73 - Yet once again, amidst her fright, She tried what sight could do ; When, through the cheating glooms of night, A MONSTER ! stood in view.
Страница 72 - The dappled herd of grazing deer That sought the shades by day, Now started from her path with fear, And gave the stranger way. Darker it grew ; and darker fears Came o'er her troubled mind ; When now, a short quick step she hears Come patting close behind.
Страница 92 - How would the prone descending shower ; From the green canopy rebound ! How would the lowland torrents pour ! How deep the pealing thunder sound ! But peace was there : no lightnings...
Страница iv - Boy : the consequence has been such as my true friends will rejoice to hear ; it has produc'd me many essential blessings. And I feel peculiarly gratified in finding that a poor man in England may assert the dignity of Virtue, and speak of the imperishable beauties of Nature, and be heard, and heard, perhaps, with greater attention for his being poor.
Страница 58 - ... streaming sand, And seen the growing mountain rise, And often found life's hopes to stand On props as weak in Wisdom's eyes ; Its conic crown Still sliding down, Again...

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