The works of the English poets. With prefaces, biographical and critical, by S. Johnson, Том 581790 |
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Страница 62
... realms are laid : Once foes , perhaps , together now they reft , No flaves revere them , and no wars invade : Yet frequent now , at midnight folemn hour , The rifted mounds their yawning cells unfold , And forth the Monarchs ftalk with ...
... realms are laid : Once foes , perhaps , together now they reft , No flaves revere them , and no wars invade : Yet frequent now , at midnight folemn hour , The rifted mounds their yawning cells unfold , And forth the Monarchs ftalk with ...
Страница 115
... realms And various languages and ages fam'd , Bears me remote , o'er Gallia's woody bounds , O'er the cloud - piercing Alps remote ; beyond The vale of Arno purpled with the vine , Beyond the Umbrian and Etrufcan hills , To Latium's ...
... realms And various languages and ages fam'd , Bears me remote , o'er Gallia's woody bounds , O'er the cloud - piercing Alps remote ; beyond The vale of Arno purpled with the vine , Beyond the Umbrian and Etrufcan hills , To Latium's ...
Страница 120
... realms , When drunk with rule fhe will'd the fierce delight , And op'd the gloomy caverns , whence out - rush'd Before th ' innumerable fhouting crowd The fiery , madded , tyrants of the wilds , Lions and tigers , wolves and elephants ...
... realms , When drunk with rule fhe will'd the fierce delight , And op'd the gloomy caverns , whence out - rush'd Before th ' innumerable fhouting crowd The fiery , madded , tyrants of the wilds , Lions and tigers , wolves and elephants ...
Страница 125
... realms : Yet ftill through mountains pierc'd , o'er vallies rais'd , In even state , to distant seas around , They ftretch their pavements . Lo , the fane of Peace , Built by that prince , who to the truft of power * Was honest , the ...
... realms : Yet ftill through mountains pierc'd , o'er vallies rais'd , In even state , to distant seas around , They ftretch their pavements . Lo , the fane of Peace , Built by that prince , who to the truft of power * Was honest , the ...
Страница 128
... realm and state With Rome's auguft remains , heroes and gods , Deck their long galleries and winding groves ; Yet mifs we not th ' innumerable thefts , Yet ftill profufe of graces teems the waste . Suffice it now th ' Efquilian mount to ...
... realm and state With Rome's auguft remains , heroes and gods , Deck their long galleries and winding groves ; Yet mifs we not th ' innumerable thefts , Yet ftill profufe of graces teems the waste . Suffice it now th ' Efquilian mount to ...
Често срещани думи и фрази
AARON HILL Ægyptus æther ancient ariſe beauteous behold beneath bleft boaſt breathe charm chearful clime coaft courſe CYMBELINE deep delight deſcription diftant dreft duft eaſe eclogue erft ev'n facred fair Falernum fame fcene feek fhade fhall fhepherds fhore fide filent firſt fleece flocks flowers foft folemn fome fong fons ftill ftores ftrain fubject fuch fwains fweet fwell Gaul green GRONGAR HILL groves hand heart hills ifle induſtry iſle lofty loom lov'd maid meaſure moſt mountains Mufe mufic Muſe numbers nymphs o'er paffions paftures plains pleaſure poet proud raiſe realms rife riſe rocks ruins ſcene ſeems ſhade ſhall ſhe ſheep ſhore ſkill ſky ſpeed ſpread ſtate ſtep ſtill ſtream ſtreets ſtrong ſwain ſweet thee thefe Theocritus theſe thofe thoſe thou thouſand toil trade uſe vale vallies verſe virtue wave wealth whofe whoſe wild wind wiſhes woods wool youth
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Страница 24 - 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 98 - 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 35 - midst its dreary dells, Whose walls more awful nod By thy religious gleams. Or if chill blustering winds, or driving rain, Prevent my willing feet, be mine the hut, That from the mountain's side, Views wilds, and swelling floods, And hamlets brown, and dim-discover'd spires, And hears their simple bell, and marks o'er all Thy dewy fingers draw The gradual dusky veil.
Страница 41 - 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 87 - O thou, whose spirit most possest The sacred seat of Shakspeare's breast! By all that from thy prophet broke. In thy divine emotions spoke ; Hither again thy fury deal, Teach me but once like him to feel : His cypress wreath my meed decree, And I, O Fear, will dwell with thee ! ODE TO SIMPLICITY.
Страница 76 - 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 114 - I lie ; While the wanton Zephyr sings. And in the vale perfumes his wings ; While the waters murmur deep ; While the shepherd charms his sheep; While the birds unbounded fly, And with music fill the sky, Now, ev'n now. my joys run high.
Страница 112 - And see the rivers how they run, Through woods and meads, in shade and sun Sometimes swift, sometimes slow, Wave succeeding wave, they go A various journey to the deep, Like human life, to endless sleep...
Страница 111 - Below me trees unnumber'd rise, Beautiful in various dyes : The gloomy pine, the poplar blue, The yellow beech, the sable yew, The slender fir, that taper grows, ' The sturdy oak with broad-spread boughs. And beyond the purple grove, Haunt of Phyllis, queen of love...
Страница 56 - Fresh to that soil thou turn'st, whose ev'ry vale Shall prompt the poet, and his song demand: To thee thy copious subjects ne'er shall fail; Thou need'st but take the pencil to thy hand, And paint what all believe who own thy genial land.