The Poetical Works of Collins, Gray, and Beattie: With a Memoir of Each

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Turner & Hayden, 1844 - 308 стор.
 

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Сторінка 110 - There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
Сторінка 107 - ELEGY, WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD. 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.
Сторінка 82 - The Summer Friend, the flatt'ring Foe, By vain Prosperity receiv'd, To her they vow their truth, and are again believ'd. . Wisdom, in sable garb array'd Immers'd in rapturous thought profound, And Melancholy, silent maid, With leaden eye, that loves the ground, Still on thy solemn steps attend : Warm Charity, the general friend ; With Justice, to herself severe ; And Pity, dropping soft the sadly pleasing tear.
Сторінка 78 - 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 78 - Say, Father Thames, for thou hast seen Full many a sprightly race Disporting on thy margent green The paths of pleasure trace ; Who foremost now delight to cleave, With pliant arm, thy glassy wave...
Сторінка 108 - Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire ; Hands...
Сторінка 93 - He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height Deep in the roaring tide he plunged to endless night.
Сторінка 108 - Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke: How jocund did they drive their team afield! How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!
Сторінка 109 - Their lot forbade : nor circumscribed alone Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined ; Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind...
Сторінка 111 - twas all he wish'd, a friend. No farther seek his merits to disclose, Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, (There they alike in trembling hope repose,) The bosom of his Father and his God.

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