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arms bear beauty beneath bloom breaſt bright charms clouds court dear death deep delight earth ev'ry eyes face fair fall fame fate fear field fight fire firſt flame flow foul give grace green grove hand head hear heart Heav'n hope hour it's kind kings land leave light live loft look maid mind morn mourn Muſe muſt Nature night o'er once pain peace plain pleaſing pow'r praiſe pride riſe roll roſe round ſcene ſee ſhade ſhall ſhe ſhine ſhould ſmiling ſoft ſome ſong ſoul ſpread ſpring ſtand ſteps ſtill ſtrains ſtream ſuch ſweet tears tender thee theſe thine thoſe thou thought thro trembling turn vain virtue voice waves wealth whoſe wild wind wretch yield youth
Сторінка 316 - How lov'd , how honour'd once , avails thee not, To whom related, or by whom begot; A heap of dust alone remains of thee, 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be!
Сторінка 464 - 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...
Сторінка 406 - Be smooth, ye rocks! ye rapid floods, give way! The Saviour comes! by ancient bards foretold: Hear him, ye deaf! and all ye blind, behold! He from thick films shall purge the visual ray, And on the sightless eyeball pour the day: Tis he th' obstructed paths of sound shall clear And bid new music charm th' unfolding ear: The dumb shall sing, the lame his crutch forego, And leap exulting like the bounding roe.
Сторінка 42 - Ten thousand thousand precious gifts My daily thanks employ ; Nor is the least a cheerful heart, That tastes those gifts with joy.
Сторінка 318 - Though restless still themselves, a lulling murmur made. Joined to the prattle of the purling rills, Were heard the lowing herds along the vale, And flocks loud-bleating from the distant hills, And vacant shepherds piping in the dale : And now and then sweet Philomel would wail, Or stock-doves...
Сторінка 210 - Sir Balaam now, he lives like other folks, He takes his chirping pint, and cracks his jokes. " Live like yourself," was soon my lady's word ; And lo ! two puddings smok'd upon the board.
Сторінка 208 - In the worst inn's worst room, with mat half-hung, The floors of plaster, and the walls of dung, On once a flock-bed, but repair'd with straw, With tape-tied curtains, never meant to draw, The George and Garter dangling from that bed Where tawdry yellow strove with dirty red, Great Villiers lies — alas!
Сторінка 208 - Who builds a church to God, and not to fame, Will never mark the marble with his name...
Сторінка 201 - We find our tenets just the same at last. Both fairly owning Riches, in effect, No grace of Heaven or token of th' elect; Given to the fool, the mad, the vain, the evil, To Ward, to Waters, Chartres, and the devil.
Сторінка 336 - Full oft by holy feet our ground was trod, Of clerks good plenty here you mote espy. A little, round, fat, oily man of God, Was one I chiefly mark'd among the fry : He had a roguish twinkle in his eye, And shone all glittering with ungodly dew, If a tight damsel chaunc'd to trippen by ; Which when observ'd, he shrunk into his mew, And straight would recollect his piety anew.