Poems by Mr. GrayJ. Dodsley, 1770 - 120 páginas |
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... able to show my appreciation these benefits if you ใ will do me the homom to accept the book on behalf of the Library Ishall be delighted . jours faithfully Hedley Vicars Storey : Henry Kawes . New College Now the Storm begins to.
... able to show my appreciation these benefits if you ใ will do me the homom to accept the book on behalf of the Library Ishall be delighted . jours faithfully Hedley Vicars Storey : Henry Kawes . New College Now the Storm begins to.
Página 22
... ! Ah , tell them , they are men ! These shall the fury Paffions tear , The vulturs of the mind , Difdainful Anger , pallid Fear , And Shame that fculks behind ; Qr Or pineing Love shall waste their youth , Or Jealousy 22 ODE ON A DISTANT.
... ! Ah , tell them , they are men ! These shall the fury Paffions tear , The vulturs of the mind , Difdainful Anger , pallid Fear , And Shame that fculks behind ; Qr Or pineing Love shall waste their youth , Or Jealousy 22 ODE ON A DISTANT.
Página 56
... these paintings ( both believed original ) , one at Florence , the other at Paris . Shone , like a meteor , ftreaming to the wind . Milton's Paradife Loft . · Hark , Hark , how each giant - oak , and defert 56 THE BAR D.
... these paintings ( both believed original ) , one at Florence , the other at Paris . Shone , like a meteor , ftreaming to the wind . Milton's Paradife Loft . · Hark , Hark , how each giant - oak , and defert 56 THE BAR D.
Página 59
... these fad eyes , Dear , as the ruddy drops that warm my heart , • Ye died amidst your dying country's cries- < No more I weep . They do not fleep . • On yonder cliffs , a griefly band , I fee them fit , they linger yet , Avengers of ...
... these fad eyes , Dear , as the ruddy drops that warm my heart , • Ye died amidst your dying country's cries- < No more I weep . They do not fleep . • On yonder cliffs , a griefly band , I fee them fit , they linger yet , Avengers of ...
Página 89
... What call unknown , what charms prefume To break the quiet of the tomb ? Who thus afflicts my troubled fprite , And drags me from the realms of night ? Long Long on these mould'ring bones have beat The winter's fnow AN O D E. 89.
... What call unknown , what charms prefume To break the quiet of the tomb ? Who thus afflicts my troubled fprite , And drags me from the realms of night ? Long Long on these mould'ring bones have beat The winter's fnow AN O D E. 89.
Términos y frases comunes
Æolian art thou Befide beneath breaſt breath bufy Cæfar Caithness Cambria's chear cloſe COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD crimſon dauntless Death Denmark DESCENT of ODIN dread dreft drop'd Dryden's duft Edward Eirin ELEGY endless night ETON COLLEGE eyes fable FATAL SISTERS fate FAVOURITE CAT fecret feen fhade fhall firft fleep folemn fome forrow foul ftill ftrains ftream ftrings fublime fuch glitt'ring glory Goddeſs griefly hafty hand Hark Hauberk heart Heav'n Henry the Sixth Hoder's horfe Italy King Lancaſter lance Lefs loft Lord Love lyre Maid majeſtic Milton Milton's Paradife Mufe ne'er numbers o'er Paffions pain Petrarch Pindaric Ode pleaſure PROGRESS of POESY purſue Quarto reft reign repofe rill ſay ſeen ſhall ſhame ſhe ſhould ſmile Snowdon ſome ſong ſpeed ſpring ſtate ſteep ſweet tear thee theſe thou thro TRIUMPHS of OWEN voice Weave Welsh whofe whoſe youth
Pasajes populares
Página 119 - 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.
Página 25 - Th' unfeeling for his own. Yet ah ! why should they know their fate ? Since sorrow never comes too late, And happiness too swiftly flies. Thought would destroy their paradise. No more ; where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise.
Página 47 - This pencil take (she said) whose colours clear Richly paint the vernal year : Thine, too, these golden keys, immortal Boy ! This can unlock the gates of Joy ; Of Horror that, and thrilling Fears, Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic Tears.
Página 118 - 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.
Página 110 - Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
Página 5 - O'er-canopies the glade, Beside some water's rushy brink With me the Muse shall sit, and think (At ease reclined in rustic state) How vain the ardour of the Crowd, How low, how little are the Proud, How indigent the Great ! Still is the toiling hand of Care ; The panting herds repose : Yet hark, how thro...
Página 18 - A stranger yet to pain! I feel the gales that from ye blow A momentary bliss bestow, As waving fresh their gladsome wing My weary soul they seem to soothe, And, redolent of joy and youth, To breathe a second spring.
Página 30 - Tis folly to be wise. HYMN TO ADVERSITY DAUGHTER of Jove, relentless power, Thou tamer of the human breast, Whose iron scourge and torturing hour The bad affright, afflict the best ! Bound in thy adamantine chain The proud are taught to taste of pain, And purple tyrants vainly groan With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone. When...
Página 46 - Where each old poetic mountain Inspiration breath'd around; Ev'ry shade and hallow'd fountain Murmur'd deep a solemn sound: Till the sad Nine in Greece's evil hour Left their Parnassus for the Latian plains. Alike they scorn the pomp of tyrantpower, And coward vice, that revels in her chains. When Latium had her lofty spirit lost, They sought, oh, Albion! next thy seaencircled coast.
Página 109 - 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. 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...