A Collection of Poems in Six Volumes, Том 2

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Robert Dodsley
J. Dodsley, 1782

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Сторінка 274 - Gainst graver hours, that bring constraint To sweeten liberty: Some bold adventurers disdain The limits of their little reign And unknown regions dare descry: Still as they run they look behind, They hear a voice in every wind, And snatch a fearful joy.
Сторінка 277 - Hours, Fair Venus' train, appear, Disclose the long-expecting flowers And wake the purple year! The attic warbler pours her throat Responsive to the cuckoo's note, The untaught harmony of Spring: While, whispering pleasure as they fly, Cool Zephyrs thro' the clear blue sky Their gather'd fragrance fling.
Сторінка 279 - To Contemplation's sober eye Such is the race of Man: And they that creep, and they that fly, Shall end where they began.
Сторінка 276 - That every labouring sinew strains, Those in the deeper vitals rage: Lo! Poverty, to fill the band, That numbs the soul with icy hand, And slow-consuming Age. To each his sufferings: all are men, Condemned alike to groan; The tender for another's pain, Th
Сторінка 44 - Seek to be good, but aim not to be great: A woman's noblest station is retreat; Her fairest virtues fly from public sight, Domestic worth, that shuns too strong a light.
Сторінка 282 - Eight times emerging from the flood She mew'd to ev'ry watry God, Some speedy aid to send. No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirr'd: Nor cruel Tom, nor Susan heard. A Fav'rite has no friend! From hence, ye Beauties, undeceiv'd, Know, one false step is ne'er retriev'd, And be with caution bold. Not all that tempts your wand'ring eyes And heedless hearts, is lawful prize; Nor all, that glisters, gold.
Сторінка 292 - When agen the Cricket's gay (Little Cricket, full of Play) Can afford his Tube to feed With the fragrant Indian weed : Pleasure for a Nose divine, Incense of the God of Wine. Happy thrice, and thrice agen, Happiest he of happy Men.
Сторінка 332 - ... second : If twice four verses were but fairly reckon'd I should turn back on the hardest part, and laugh. Thus far with good success I think I've scribbled, And of twice seven lines have clear got o'er ten. Courage ! Another'll finish the first triplet ; Thanks to the muse, my work begins to shorten, There's thirteen lines got through, driblet by driblet, 'Tis done!
Сторінка 72 - In vain I look around O'er all the well-known ground, My Lucy's wonted footfteps to defcry ; Where oft we us'd to walk, • Where oft in tender talk We faw the...
Сторінка 28 - A nation here I pity and admire, Whom noblest sentiments of glory fire, Yet taught, by custom's force, and bigot fear, To serve with pride, and boast the yoke they bear : Whose nobles, born to cringe and to command...

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