Poemsauthor, 1762 - 277 страници |
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Страница 51
... of the town . Critic , I hear thy torrent rage , “ ' Tis blasphemy against that stage , " Which Æschylus his warmth defign'd , Euripides his tafte refin'd , H 2 And " And Sophocles his last direction , Stamp'd with the [ 5 ]
... of the town . Critic , I hear thy torrent rage , “ ' Tis blasphemy against that stage , " Which Æschylus his warmth defign'd , Euripides his tafte refin'd , H 2 And " And Sophocles his last direction , Stamp'd with the [ 5 ]
Страница 56
... rage , To be an arrant go - between , Chief - mourner at each difmal fcene ; Shewing its forrow , or delight , By shifting dances , left and right , Not much unlike our modern notions , Adagio or Allegro motions ; To watch upon the deep ...
... rage , To be an arrant go - between , Chief - mourner at each difmal fcene ; Shewing its forrow , or delight , By shifting dances , left and right , Not much unlike our modern notions , Adagio or Allegro motions ; To watch upon the deep ...
Страница 58
... rage , From models of a former age ; The bright original he took , And tore the leaf from nature's book . ' Tis Shakespeare , thus , who ftands alone- But why repeat what You have shown ? How true , how perfect , and how well , The ...
... rage , From models of a former age ; The bright original he took , And tore the leaf from nature's book . ' Tis Shakespeare , thus , who ftands alone- But why repeat what You have shown ? How true , how perfect , and how well , The ...
Страница 63
... rage , Cropt his luxuriance bold , and blended taught The flow of numbers with the ftrength of thought . Nor , Cowley , be thy Muse forgot ! which strays In wit's ambiguous flowery maze , With many a pointed turn and ftudied art : Tho ...
... rage , Cropt his luxuriance bold , and blended taught The flow of numbers with the ftrength of thought . Nor , Cowley , be thy Muse forgot ! which strays In wit's ambiguous flowery maze , With many a pointed turn and ftudied art : Tho ...
Страница 74
... rage , Bullies the bulky phantom off the stage . He , who in earnest studies o'er his part , Will find true nature cling about his heart . The modes of grief are not included all In the white handkerchief and mournful drawl ; A fingle ...
... rage , Bullies the bulky phantom off the stage . He , who in earnest studies o'er his part , Will find true nature cling about his heart . The modes of grief are not included all In the white handkerchief and mournful drawl ; A fingle ...
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Страница 239 - THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea, The plowman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Страница 257 - Here rests his head upon the lap of earth A youth, to fortune and to fame unknown: Fair science frown'd not on his humble birth, And melancholy mark'd him for her own. Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere...
Страница 243 - Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, , The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
Страница 241 - The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. 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 253 - Nor cast one longing, ling'ring look behind? On some fond breast the parting soul relies. Some pious drops the closing eye requires; Ev'n from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, Ev'n in our ashes live their wonted fires. For thee, who mindful of th...
Страница 255 - One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill, Along the heath and near his fav'rite 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 churchway path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay Grav'd on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Страница 50 - Apollo there, with aim so clever, Stretches his leaden bow for ever; And there, without the pow'r to fly, Stands fix'da tip-toe Mercury.
Страница 241 - Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
Страница 249 - Penury reprefs'd their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the foul, Full many a gem of pureft ray ferene, The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear ; Full many a flower is born to blufh unfeen, And wafte its fweetnefs on the defart air.
Страница 239 - The plowman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...