Specimens of the British poets, Том 2W. Suttaby, 1809 |
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Сторінка 240
... JOHN LANGHORNE . Died in 1779 . Owen of Carron THOMAS PENROSE . 1743-1779 . 292 299 303 To Miss Slocock -320 Elegy on Leaving the River of Plate 321 SIR WILLIAM BLACKSTONE . 1723-1780 . Farewell ... JOHN HENRY MOORE , Bart . Page Absence .
... JOHN LANGHORNE . Died in 1779 . Owen of Carron THOMAS PENROSE . 1743-1779 . 292 299 303 To Miss Slocock -320 Elegy on Leaving the River of Plate 321 SIR WILLIAM BLACKSTONE . 1723-1780 . Farewell ... JOHN HENRY MOORE , Bart . Page Absence .
Сторінка 240
British poets. SIR JOHN HENRY MOORE , Bart . Page Absence . - An Elegy The Debtor SIR WILLIAM JONES . 1746–1794 . Laura ; an Elegy from Petrarch An Ode of Petrarch Solima . - An Arabian Eclogue To Lady Jones A Persian Song of Hafez A ...
British poets. SIR JOHN HENRY MOORE , Bart . Page Absence . - An Elegy The Debtor SIR WILLIAM JONES . 1746–1794 . Laura ; an Elegy from Petrarch An Ode of Petrarch Solima . - An Arabian Eclogue To Lady Jones A Persian Song of Hafez A ...
Сторінка 348
British poets. JOHN SCOTT . ODE . Written in Winter . WHILE in the sky black clouds impend , And fogs arise , and rains descend , And one brown prospect opens round Of leafless trees and ... JOHN HENRY MOORE , BART . ABSENCE . - ( 348 )
British poets. JOHN SCOTT . ODE . Written in Winter . WHILE in the sky black clouds impend , And fogs arise , and rains descend , And one brown prospect opens round Of leafless trees and ... JOHN HENRY MOORE , BART . ABSENCE . - ( 348 )
Сторінка 349
British poets. SIR JOHN HENRY MOORE , BART . ABSENCE . - AN ELEGY . THE gairish sunbeams slowly fade away , The dew - drop hangs upon the moisten'd rose , Soft twilight thinly spreads her mantle ... JOHN HENRY MOORE , BART . Each air ( 349 )
British poets. SIR JOHN HENRY MOORE , BART . ABSENCE . - AN ELEGY . THE gairish sunbeams slowly fade away , The dew - drop hangs upon the moisten'd rose , Soft twilight thinly spreads her mantle ... JOHN HENRY MOORE , BART . Each air ( 349 )
Сторінка 350
British poets. 350 SIR JOHN HENRY MOORE , BART . Each air - form'd spectre anxious absence drew , When fondly musing on thy heavenly charms ; Malicious fancy to my tortur'd view Gave those sweet ... JOHN HENRY MOORE , BART . 351 Where could.
British poets. 350 SIR JOHN HENRY MOORE , BART . Each air - form'd spectre anxious absence drew , When fondly musing on thy heavenly charms ; Malicious fancy to my tortur'd view Gave those sweet ... JOHN HENRY MOORE , BART . 351 Where could.
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beauty behold beneath blest bliss bloom bosom breast breath bright charms cheerful dear death delight dread dreams dydd e'er ECLOGUE Eurydice Ev'n ev'ry eyes fair fame Fancy fate fear flowers fond gentle glow golden reign grace grief groves hand hear heart Heav'n hour JOHN HENRY MOORE lord lov'd lyre maid maze of Fate mind MONODY morn mournful Muse Nature's ne'er night numbers nymph o'er pain pale peace pensive Petrarch pity pleas'd pleasure pow'r praise pray'r pride proud rage raptures reign rills rise round sacred scene scorn shade shine sighs sing skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound sprite strain sweet sweet oblivion sylphs tear tender Thalestris thee thine thou thought thro toil trembling Twas vale virtue wave weep wild wind wings wretch wyfe wylle wythe ynne youth
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Сторінка 192 - 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.
Сторінка 325 - I forget the hallow'd grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met, To live one day of parting love? Eternity will not efface Those records dear of transports past; Thy image at our last embrace; Ah ! little thought we 'twas our last ! Ayr gurgling kiss'd his pebbled shore, O'erhung with wild woods, thick'ning green; The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar, Twined amorous round the raptured scene.
Сторінка 239 - And thou, sweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid, Still first to fly where sensual joys invade ; Unfit in these degenerate times of shame To catch the heart, or strike for honest fame ; Dear charming nymph, neglected and decried, My shame in crowds, my solitary pride ; Thou source of all my bliss, and all my woe, That found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so...
Сторінка 15 - Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows ; But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar: When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, The line too labours, and the words move slow : Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain, Flies o'er the unbending corn, and skims along the main. Hear how Timotheus...
Сторінка 14 - In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold; Alike fantastic, if too new, or old: Be not the first by whom the new are tried, Nor yet the last to lay the old aside.
Сторінка 189 - Await alike th' inevitable hour. The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault, If memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. Can storied urn, or animated bust, Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ? Can...
Сторінка 239 - tis hard to combat, learns to fly! For him no wretches, born to work and weep, Explore the mine, or tempt the dangerous deep...
Сторінка 188 - THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman 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...
Сторінка 221 - Condemn'da needy supplicant to wait, While ladies interpose, and slaves debate. But did not Chance at length her error mend? Did no subverted empire mark his end? Did rival monarchs give the fatal wound? Or hostile millions press him to the ground? His fall was destin'd to a barren strand, A petty fortress, and a dubious hand; He left the name, at which the world grew pale, To point a moral, or adorn a tale.
Сторінка 316 - My lov'd, my honour'd, much respected friend! No mercenary bard his homage pays; With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end, My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise: To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays, The lowly train in life's sequester'd scene, The native feelings strong, the guileless ways, What Aiken in a cottage would have been; Ah! tho' his worth unknown, far happier there I ween! November chill blaws loud wi...