PoemsJ. Hatchard, 1808 - 258 páginas |
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Página v
... lost for want of discernment : My verses are before him who has written ele- gantly , who has judged with accuracy , and who has given unequivocal proof of abilities in a work of difficulty ; -a translation of poetry , which few persons ...
... lost for want of discernment : My verses are before him who has written ele- gantly , who has judged with accuracy , and who has given unequivocal proof of abilities in a work of difficulty ; -a translation of poetry , which few persons ...
Página xvi
... lost , let me remember with gratitude the helps I have obtained : With a single exception , every poem in the ensuing collection has been submitted to the critical sagacity of a gentleman , upon whose skill and candour their author ...
... lost , let me remember with gratitude the helps I have obtained : With a single exception , every poem in the ensuing collection has been submitted to the critical sagacity of a gentleman , upon whose skill and candour their author ...
Página 26
... lost beneath the Summer's Sun- Yet the pure stream moves on , and as it moves , Its power increases and its use improves ; While Plenty round its spacious waves bestow , Still it flows on , and shall for ever flow . THE PARISH REGISTER ...
... lost beneath the Summer's Sun- Yet the pure stream moves on , and as it moves , Its power increases and its use improves ; While Plenty round its spacious waves bestow , Still it flows on , and shall for ever flow . THE PARISH REGISTER ...
Página 30
... lost to life , its pleasures and its pains . No Muse I ask , before my view to bring The humble actions of the swains I sing.- How pass'd the youthful , how the old their days , Who sank in sloth , and who aspir'd to praise ; Their ...
... lost to life , its pleasures and its pains . No Muse I ask , before my view to bring The humble actions of the swains I sing.- How pass'd the youthful , how the old their days , Who sank in sloth , and who aspir'd to praise ; Their ...
Página 39
... lost his stake , And only bled and perish'd for his sake . Such are our Peasants , those to whom we yield Glories unsought , the Fathers of the Field ; And these who take from our reluctant hands What Burn advises or the Bench commands ...
... lost his stake , And only bled and perish'd for his sake . Such are our Peasants , those to whom we yield Glories unsought , the Fathers of the Field ; And these who take from our reluctant hands What Burn advises or the Bench commands ...
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Términos y frases comunes
behold blest boast bosom breast Bride call'd charms child Circassian Comfort dæmons Dame dead deed delight disgrace Doctor JOHNSON dread Duke of Rutland Ev'n fair fame fate Father favour fear feel fled foes Folly form'd gay Bride give grace grave grief hand happy hear heart Honourable hope humble idle infant kind labour Life's live look'd looks Lope de Vega Lord Lord HOLLAND Lord ROBERT MANNERS lov'd Love Marriage mind Muse numbers Nymphs o'er OVID pain parish passions peace pleas'd Poem poor prais'd praise pride proud race racter rage rest Right Honourable round rustic scenes scorn shame sigh sing Sir Eustace slave smile soothe sorrows soul Spirit swains tears thee thine thou thought tribe truth Twas verses vex'd vext Village Virtue weep Wife wonder wretched yield youth
Pasajes populares
Página 4 - On Mincio's banks, in Caesar's bounteous reign, If Tityrus found the Golden Age again, Must sleepy bards the flattering dream prolong, Mechanic echoes of the Mantuan song? From Truth and Nature shall we widely stray, Where Virgil, not where Fancy, leads the way? 20 Yes, thus the Muses sing of happy swains, Because the Muses never knew their pains: They boast their peasants...
Página 12 - With timid eye to read the distant glance; Who with sad prayers the weary doctor tease, To name the nameless ever-new disease; Who with mock patience dire complaints endure, Which real pain and that alone can cure ; How would ye bear in real pain to lie, Despised, neglected, left alone to die?
Página 213 - Pilgrim, burthen'd with thy sin, Come the way to Zion's gate, There, till Mercy let thee in, Knock and weep and watch and wait. Knock ! — He knows the sinner's cry : Weep ! — He loves the mourner's tears : Watch ! — for saving grace is nigh : Wait, — till heavenly light appears. " Hark ! it is the Bridegroom's voice ; Welcome, pilgrim, to thy rest...
Página 102 - Shame knew him not, he dreaded no disgrace; Truth, simple truth, was written in his face...
Página 11 - Theirs is yon House that holds the parish poor, Whose walls of mud scarce bear the broken door; There, where the putrid vapours, flagging, play, And the dull wheel hums doleful through the day; There children dwell who know no parents' care; Parents, who know no children's love, dwell there!
Página 69 - They wish'd her well, whom yet they wish'd away. Correct in thought, she judged a servant's place Preserved a rustic beauty from disgrace; But yet on Sunday-eve, in freedom's hour, With secret joy she felt that beauty's power, When some proud bliss upon the heart would steal, That, poor or rich, a beauty still must feel.
Página 125 - Care blasts the honours of the flow'ry plain : Care veils in clouds the sun's meridian beam, Sighs through the grove, and murmurs in the stream ; For when the soul is labouring in despair, In vain the body breathes a purer air : No storm-tost sailor sighs for slumbering seas, — He dreads the tempest, but invokes the breeze...
Página 103 - Kept him at home in that important hour; Nor his firm feet could one persuading sect, By the strong glare of their new light, direct ;— " On hope, in mine own sober light, I gaze, " But should be blind and lose it, in your blaze." In times severe, when many a sturdy swain Felt it his pride, his comfort, to complain ; Isaac their wants would soothe, his own would hide, And feel in that his comfort and his pride. At length, he found, when seventy years were run, His strength departed, and his...
Página 5 - Where other cares than those the Muse relates, And other shepherds dwell with other mates: By such examples taught, I paint the Cot, As Truth will paint it, and as Bards will not...
Página 129 - With awe, around these silent walks I tread; These are the lasting mansions of the dead:— " The dead," methinks a thousand tongues reply: " These are the tombs of such as cannot die ! " Crown'd with eternal fame, they sit sublime, " And laugh at all the little strife of time.