The Poetical Register, and Repository of Fugitive Poetry for 1801-11, Том 5F.C. & J. Rivington, 1807 |
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Загальні терміни та фрази
ALCIDA ANNA SEWARD bard beam Beauty beneath blast blest bliss bloom bosom bower breast breath bright brow charms courser Covent Garden dark DAVID SAMWELL dear death delight dread e'er earth EPIGRAM ev'ry EYAM fair fame Fancy fate flame flowers fond FULVIO TESTI gale Genius gentle glow grace grief grove hand haste heart Heaven hills honour hope hour hour of Victory LITTLE SWEEP lov'd lyre maid mind mourn Muse ne'er numbers Nymph o'er pain pale peace PETRARCH pity plain pleasure Poem praise pride rapture reign round sacred Saladin scene shade shed shine sigh silent Small 8vo smile soft song SONNET soothe sorrow soul spirit strain stream sweet Sylph tear tender Theatre Royal thee thine thou thought thro vale verse Virtue Virtue's voice wave weep wild winds wing youth
Популярні уривки
Сторінка 416 - No ; cast by Fortune on a frowning coast, Which neither groves nor happy valleys boast ; Where other cares than those the Muse relates, And other Shepherds dwell with other mates ; By such examples taught, I paint the Cot, As truth will paint it and as bards will not.
Сторінка 416 - There poppies nodding, mock the hope of toil , There the blue bugloss paints the sterile soil ; Hardy and high, above the slender sheaf, The slimy mallow waves her silky leaf ; O'er the young shoot the charlock throws a shade, And clasping tares cling round the sickly blade With mingled tints the rocky coasts abound, And a sad splendour vainly shines around.
Сторінка 415 - On Mincio's banks, in Caesar's bounteous reign, If Tityrus found the Golden Age again, Must sleepy bards the flattering dream prolong, Mechanic echoes of the Mantuan song ? From Truth and Nature shall we widely stray, Where Virgil, not where Fancy, leads the way ? Yes, thus the Muses sing of happy swains, Because the Muses never knew their pains : They boast their peasants...
Сторінка 423 - Anon, a figure enters, quaintly neat, All pride and business, bustle and conceit ; With looks unalter'd by these scenes of woe, With speed that, entering, speaks his haste to go, He bids the gazing throng around him fly, And carries fate and physic in his eye...
Сторінка 423 - Ah! no; a shepherd of a different stock, And far unlike him, feeds this little flock: A jovial youth, who thinks his Sunday's task As much as God or man can fairly ask ; The rest he gives to loves and labours light, To fields the morning, and to feasts the night; None better...
Сторінка 421 - There children dwell who know no parents' care; Parents, who know no children's love, dwell there! Heart-broken matrons on their joyless bed, Forsaken wives, and mothers never wed ; Dejected widows with unheeded tears, And crippled age with more than childhood fears; The lame, the blind, and, far the happiest they ! The moping idiot, and the madman gay.
Сторінка 421 - Are others' gain, but killing cares to me ; To me the children of my youth are lords, Cool in their looks, but hasty in their words : Wants of their own demand their care ; and who...
Сторінка 422 - Who press the downy couch, while slaves advance With timid eye to read the distant glance ; Who with sad prayers the weary doctor tease, To name the nameless ever-new disease ; Who with mock patience dire complaints endure, Which real pain and that alone can cure...
Сторінка 415 - I grant indeed that fields and flocks have charms For him that grazes or for him that farms; But when amid such pleasing scenes I trace The poor laborious natives of the place, And see the mid-day sun with fervid ray On their bare heads and dewy temples play, While some, with feebler heads and fainter hearts Deplore their fortune yet sustain their parts, Then shall I dare these real ills to hide In tinsel trappings of poetic pride?
Сторінка 416 - With sullen woe display'd in every face ; Who, far from civil arts and social fly, And scowl at strangers with suspicious eye. Here too the lawless merchant of the main. Draws from his plough th' intoxicated swain; Want only claim'd the labour of the day, But vice now steals his nightly rest away.