The Poetical Works of Mr. William Collins: With Memoirs of the Author; and Observations on His Genius and WritingsT. Becket and P. A. Dehondt, 1765 - 166 страници |
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Страница 55
... Spring , with dewy fingers cold , Returns to deck their hallow'd mold , She there fhall dress a sweeter fod , Than Fancy's feet have ever trod . By Fairy hands their knell is rung , By forms unfeen their dirge is fung ; There Honour ...
... Spring , with dewy fingers cold , Returns to deck their hallow'd mold , She there fhall dress a sweeter fod , Than Fancy's feet have ever trod . By Fairy hands their knell is rung , By forms unfeen their dirge is fung ; There Honour ...
Страница 64
... There happier than in islands bleft , Or bowers by Spring or Hebe dreft , The chiefs who fill our Albion's story , In warlike weeds , retir'd in glory , Hear Hear their conforted Druids fing Their triumphs to th ' [ 64 ]
... There happier than in islands bleft , Or bowers by Spring or Hebe dreft , The chiefs who fill our Albion's story , In warlike weeds , retir'd in glory , Hear Hear their conforted Druids fing Their triumphs to th ' [ 64 ]
Страница 71
... springs , Thy fprings , and dying gales , O Nymph referv'd , while now the bright hair'd fun Sits in yon western tent , whofe cloudy fkirts , With brede ethereal wove , O'erhang his wavy bed : Now air is hufh'd , fave where the weak ...
... springs , Thy fprings , and dying gales , O Nymph referv'd , while now the bright hair'd fun Sits in yon western tent , whofe cloudy fkirts , With brede ethereal wove , O'erhang his wavy bed : Now air is hufh'd , fave where the weak ...
Страница 73
... Spring fhall pour his fhowers , as oft he wont , And bathe thy breathing treffes , meekest Eve ! While Summer loves to sport Beneath thy lingering light : While fallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves , Or Winter , yelling thro ' the ...
... Spring fhall pour his fhowers , as oft he wont , And bathe thy breathing treffes , meekest Eve ! While Summer loves to sport Beneath thy lingering light : While fallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves , Or Winter , yelling thro ' the ...
Страница 93
... Spring diffufive decks th ' inchanted ifle . O more than all in powerful genius bleft , Come , take thine empire o'er the willing breaft ! Whate'er the wounds this youthful heart shall feel , Thy fongs fupport me , and thy morals heal ...
... Spring diffufive decks th ' inchanted ifle . O more than all in powerful genius bleft , Come , take thine empire o'er the willing breaft ! Whate'er the wounds this youthful heart shall feel , Thy fongs fupport me , and thy morals heal ...
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Abra allegorical beautiful bleft breathe Britiſh charm circumftances COLLINS compofition defcribed defcription Deferted delight deſpair diftinguiſhed dreft Druid ECLOGUE Epithalamium expreffion eyes facred faid fair fame Fancy fcenes Fear feems fentiment fhade fhall fhed fhepherds fhrine fide fighs fimple fimplicity firſt flowers foft folemn fome fometimes fong fons foothing fpecies fprings ftill ftrain fubjects fuch fullen fung fwain fweet fword genius gentleft Georgian Greece grief grove hair heart himſelf imagery iſle laft laſt lov'd maid meaſure midft moft moſt mufic mufing Muſe myrtles nature numbers nymph o'er obfervable ODE ODE ORIENTAL ECLOGUES paffions paftoral Pity plain pleaſure poems poet poet's poetical poetry Polynices reaſon reſpectable royal Abbas ſcene Schiraz ſeems ſhall ſhe ſhore ſhould SIR THOMAS HANMER ſpirit Strabo ſweet tender thee thefe Theocritus theſe thofe thoſe thou thought thouſand thro uſe vale verfe watchet whofe whoſe wild wizzard youth
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Страница 33 - ECLOGUE IV. AGIB AND SECANDER; i*» THE FUGITIVES. SCENE, A MOUNTAIN IN CIRCASSIA. TIME, MIDNIGHT. IN fair Circassia, where, to love inclin'd, Each swain was blest, for every maid was kind...
Страница 53 - How sleep the brave, who sink to rest, By all their country's wishes blest ! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung ; By forms unseen their dirge is sung : There Honour comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay ; And Freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there ! TO MERCY.
Страница 79 - Next Anger rush'd, his eyes on fire, In lightnings own'd his secret stings, In one rude clash he struck the lyre, And swept with hurried hand the strings.
Страница 151 - Vengeance, in the lurid air, Lifts her red arm, expos'd and bare : On whom that ravening brood of Fate, Who lap the blood of Sorrow, wait : Who, Fear, this ghastly train can see, And look not madly wild, like thee ? EPODE.
Страница 170 - 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 120 - What if the lion in his rage I meet ! — Oft in the dust I view his printed feet: And, fearful ! oft, when day's declining light Yields her pale empire to the mourner night, By hunger...
Страница 178 - And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail. Still would her touch the strain prolong ; And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, She call'd on Echo still through all the song ; And where her sweetest theme she chose, A soft responsive voice was heard at every close ; And Hope enchanted smil'd, and wav'd her golden hair...
Страница 96 - The female fays shall haunt the green, And dress thy grave with pearly dew. The redbreast oft at evening hours Shall kindly lend his little aid, With hoary moss, and gather'd flowers, To deck the ground where thou art laid.
Страница 81 - And, ever and anon, he beat The doubling drum, with furious heat ; And though sometimes, each dreary pause between, Dejected Pity, at his side, Her soul-subduing voice applied, Yet still he kept his wild unaltered mien, While each strained ball of sight seemed bursting from his head.
Страница 44 - Brood of fate, Who lap the blood of Sorrow, wait ; Who, Fear, this ghastly train can see, And look not madly wild, like thee? EPODE. In earliest Greece, to thee, with partial choice, The grief-full Muse addrest her infant tongue; The maids and matrons, on her awful voice Silent and pale in wild amazement hung.