The Poetical Register, and Repository of Fugitive Poetry for 1801-11, Том 2F.C. & J. Rivington, 1803 |
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Сторінка 7
... fire the gale . Here then , in silence , thro ' the summer's day , Glide , bright with hope , enamour'd hours away . 2 . For now , my love - devoted Soul , at rest , Hails all the lonely graces of the scene ; Hails them , in soft ...
... fire the gale . Here then , in silence , thro ' the summer's day , Glide , bright with hope , enamour'd hours away . 2 . For now , my love - devoted Soul , at rest , Hails all the lonely graces of the scene ; Hails them , in soft ...
Сторінка 8
... fire , that now before us springs , But a mild pole - star to the dear Retreat , Where Peace , and Competence our steps shall meet . 6 . On thee to gaze thro ' all the Summer's day ! Hear thy sweet accents cheer the Winter's Eve ! Thro ...
... fire , that now before us springs , But a mild pole - star to the dear Retreat , Where Peace , and Competence our steps shall meet . 6 . On thee to gaze thro ' all the Summer's day ! Hear thy sweet accents cheer the Winter's Eve ! Thro ...
Сторінка 19
... fires from thine eye ; " No more , Hope's gay visions thy fancy deceive , " Or whisper that Mabel for Alleyn shall live ; " For Mabel with Hubert shall die ! " With a ring I've espoused thee ; -look round and " behold " The bride - bed ...
... fires from thine eye ; " No more , Hope's gay visions thy fancy deceive , " Or whisper that Mabel for Alleyn shall live ; " For Mabel with Hubert shall die ! " With a ring I've espoused thee ; -look round and " behold " The bride - bed ...
Сторінка 22
... fires her straining eye , Her piercing accents rend the sky ; As wild she tears her silvered hair , That falls upon her bosom bare ; Now Death smiles dimly on his prey , As the lost maniac to her breast Clasps the beloved insensate clay ...
... fires her straining eye , Her piercing accents rend the sky ; As wild she tears her silvered hair , That falls upon her bosom bare ; Now Death smiles dimly on his prey , As the lost maniac to her breast Clasps the beloved insensate clay ...
Сторінка 32
... fire that rolls above , Should waft unto her listening ear , The truth that still I love , I love . But how should'st thou my Delia know ? And who is she the maid so dear , For whom I bid my numbers flow , And weary evening with my ...
... fire that rolls above , Should waft unto her listening ear , The truth that still I love , I love . But how should'st thou my Delia know ? And who is she the maid so dear , For whom I bid my numbers flow , And weary evening with my ...
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Almer ANNA SEWARD beam beauty beneath blest bloom bosom bowers breast breath bright charms clouds cold dark dear death deep delight dread Dundrennan Abbey EDMUND L EPIGRAM fair fame Fancy fate fear fond frown gay bowers gentle glow grace grave grief hail hand hear heart Heaven hope hour LEFTLY light lonely lov'd Lupercio lyre maid MARISCHAL COLLEGE Metastasio mind Monody mourn Muse ne'er NEREID night numbers o'er pale peace plain pleasure poem pow'r praise pride R. A. Davenport rapture rise round sacred scene shade shine shore sighs smile soft song SONNET sorrow soul spirit storm strain stream sweet SWIFT SYLPH SYLPHIL tear tender thee thine thou thro toil tomb trembling vale verse Village Maid VIRGIL'S TOMB virtue vision of delight wave weep wild winds youth
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Сторінка 229 - ON Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat, at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.
Сторінка 191 - And I saw no temple therein: for the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are the temple of it. And the city had no need of the sun, neither of the moon, to shine in it: for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof.
Сторінка 400 - Why did all-creating Nature Make the plant for which we toil — Sighs must fan it, tears must water, Sweat of ours must dress the soil. Think, ye masters, iron-hearted, Lolling at your jovial boards ; Think how many backs have smarted For the sweets your cane affords.
Сторінка 306 - HAST thou a charm to stay the morning-star In his steep course ? So long he seems to pause On thy bald awful head, O sovran BLANC ! The Arve and Arveiron at thy base Rave ceaselessly ; but thou, most awful Form ! Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines, How silently ! Around thee and above Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black, An ebon mass : methinks thou piercest it, As with a wedge ! But when I look again...
Сторінка 308 - Ye Ice-falls! ye that from the mountain's brow Adown enormous ravines slope amain Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice, And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge! Motionless torrents! silent cataracts! Who made you glorious as the Gates of Heaven Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? GOD! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, GOD!
Сторінка 190 - And I will multiply the fruit of the tree, and the increase of the field, that ye shall receive no more reproach of famine among the heathen.
Сторінка 230 - Tis morn ; but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, Where furious Frank and fiery Hun Shout in their sulphurous canopy. The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory or the grave ! Wave, Munich ! all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry! Few, few shall part where many meet...
Сторінка 183 - And when all the children of Israel saw how the fire came down, and the glory of the Lord upon the house, they bowed themselves with their faces to the ground upon the pavement, and worshipped, and praised the Lord, saying, For he is good ; for his mercy endureth for ever.
Сторінка 307 - Arve and Arveiron at thy base Rave ceaselessly; but thou, most awful Form! Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines, How silently! Around thee and above Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black, An ebon mass: methinks thou piercest it, As with a wedge! But when I look again, It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, Thy habitation from eternity! 0 dread and silent Mount! I gazed upon thee, Till thou, still present to the bodily sense, Didst vanish from my thought: entranced in prayer 1...
Сторінка 183 - And the house, when it was in building, was built of stone made ready before it was brought thither : so that there was neither hammer nor axe nor any tool of iron heard in the house, while it was in building.