The poetical works of William Collins, with the comm. of Langhorne. To which is prefixed some account of the life of Collins by dr. Johnson1804 |
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Página 41
... To aid some mighty task , I only seek to find thy temperate vale ; Where oft my reed might sound To maids and shepherds round , And all thy sons , O Nature , learn my tale . ODE ON THE POETICAL CHARACTER . As once , -if 41.
... To aid some mighty task , I only seek to find thy temperate vale ; Where oft my reed might sound To maids and shepherds round , And all thy sons , O Nature , learn my tale . ODE ON THE POETICAL CHARACTER . As once , -if 41.
Página 43
... Seraphic wires were heard to sound , Now sublimest triumph swelling , Now on love and mercy dwelling ; And she , from out the veiling cloud , Breath'd her magic notes aloud : And thou , thou rich - hair'd youth of morn 43.
... Seraphic wires were heard to sound , Now sublimest triumph swelling , Now on love and mercy dwelling ; And she , from out the veiling cloud , Breath'd her magic notes aloud : And thou , thou rich - hair'd youth of morn 43.
Página 49
... sounds to life , The youths , whose locks divinely spreading , Like vernal hyacinths in sullen hue , At once the breath of fear and virtue shedding , Applauding Freedom lov'd of old to view ? What new Alcaus ' , fancy - blest , Shall ...
... sounds to life , The youths , whose locks divinely spreading , Like vernal hyacinths in sullen hue , At once the breath of fear and virtue shedding , Applauding Freedom lov'd of old to view ? What new Alcaus ' , fancy - blest , Shall ...
Página 50
... sounds would court thy ears , Let not my shell's misguided pow'r ' E'er draw thy sad , thy mindful tears . No , Freedom , no , I will not tell How Rome , before thy weeping face , With heaviest sound , a giant - statue , fell , Push'd ...
... sounds would court thy ears , Let not my shell's misguided pow'r ' E'er draw thy sad , thy mindful tears . No , Freedom , no , I will not tell How Rome , before thy weeping face , With heaviest sound , a giant - statue , fell , Push'd ...
Página 56
... , Play with the tangles of her hair , Till , in one loud applauding sound , The nations shout to her around , O how supremely art thou blest , Thou , lady - thou shalt rule the west ! ODE TO A LADY ON THE DEATH OF COLONEL ROSS 56.
... , Play with the tangles of her hair , Till , in one loud applauding sound , The nations shout to her around , O how supremely art thou blest , Thou , lady - thou shalt rule the west ! ODE TO A LADY ON THE DEATH OF COLONEL ROSS 56.
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The Poetical Works of William Collins, with the Comm. of Langhorne. to Which ... William Collins Sin vista previa disponible - 2016 |
Términos y frases comunes
Abra lov'd AGIB allegorical ancient ANTISTROPHE bard beautiful blank verse blast blest boast breathe Brownie charm Circassia Collins CYMBELINE death delight dreary drest Druid dwell E'en epithalamium ev'ry eyes fair fairy Fancy fear flowers fond genius Georgian maid golden hair Greece green grief grove hail hand happy haste haunt hear heard heart Hebrides hour imagery isle John Sharpe luckless lyre lyric magic maid like Abra midst mind moral mountains mourn mov'd murmurs muse myrtles native nature Ne'er numbers Nymph o'er Oriental Eclogues passions pastoral Pity Pity's plain poems poet poet's poetical poetry Polynices rage round royal Abbas rural scene Schiraz sentiment shade shepherds sighs SIR THOMAS HANMER soft song Sophocles sounds springs strain sullen sung swain sweet tears tender thee Theocritus thou thought toil truth vale verse virtue voice of Peace watchet wild wizzard youth εν
Pasajes populares
Página 72 - 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.
Página 71 - tis said, when all were fired, Fill'd with fury, rapt, inspired, From the supporting myrtles round They snatch'd her instruments of sound,' And, as they oft had heard apart Sweet lessons of her forceful art, Each (for madness ruled the hour) Would prove his own expressive power, FIRST Fear his hand, its skill to try, Amid the chords bewilder'd laid, And back recoil'd, he knew not why, E'en at the sound himself had made.
Página 46 - 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.
Página 70 - When Music, heavenly maid, was young, While yet in early Greece she sung, The Passions oft, to hear her shell, Thronged around her magic cell...
Página 85 - No wither'd witch shall here be seen, No goblins lead their nightly crew ; 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.
Página 138 - 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.
Página 45 - While on its rich ambitious head, An Eden, like his own, lies spread. I view that oak, the fancied glades among, By which as Milton lay, his evening ear, From many a cloud that dropp'd ethereal dew, Nigh spher'd in heaven, its native strains could hear...
Página 8 - That this man, wise and virtuous as he was, passed always unentangled through the snares of life, it would be prejudice and temerity to affirm; but it may be said that at least he preserved the source of action unpolluted, that his principles were never shaken, that his distinctions of right and wrong were never confounded, and that his faults had nothing of malignity or design, but proceeded from some unexpected pressure, or casual temptation.
Página 142 - twas wild. But thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair, What was thy delighted measure ! Still it whispered promised pleasure, And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail...
Página 22 - 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...