The Works: The Royal convert. Jane Shore. Jane Gray. Poems on several occasionsJ. and R. Tonson, T. Osborne, 1766 |
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Сторінка 18
... speak , Howe'er the prefent Circumstance reproach me , Yet ftill my Heart avows your Beauty's Pow'r , My Eyes confefs you fair . RODOG U N E. Whate'er I am Is of myfelf , by native Worth exifting , Secure , and independent of thy Praife ...
... speak , Howe'er the prefent Circumstance reproach me , Yet ftill my Heart avows your Beauty's Pow'r , My Eyes confefs you fair . RODOG U N E. Whate'er I am Is of myfelf , by native Worth exifting , Secure , and independent of thy Praife ...
Сторінка 20
... speak the King , the Hero , and the Lover . SEOFRID . The Hero and the King are glorious Names ; But Oh ! my Mafter , wherefore is the Lover ? In Honour's Name remember what you are , Break from the Bondage of this feeble Paffion , And ...
... speak the King , the Hero , and the Lover . SEOFRID . The Hero and the King are glorious Names ; But Oh ! my Mafter , wherefore is the Lover ? In Honour's Name remember what you are , Break from the Bondage of this feeble Paffion , And ...
Сторінка 23
... Speak it , nor wound the Softness of my Soul With these obfcure Complainings ; fpeak , my Lord . KING . Firft then ... speaking Griefs are in your Eyes , To tell the Rack within- -I read it plain . But Oh ! my King , what Prophet could ...
... Speak it , nor wound the Softness of my Soul With these obfcure Complainings ; fpeak , my Lord . KING . Firft then ... speaking Griefs are in your Eyes , To tell the Rack within- -I read it plain . But Oh ! my King , what Prophet could ...
Сторінка 46
... speak of Love- RODOGUNE . But not of his . ARIBERT . " Tis True , I fhould not grace the Story much , Rude and unskilful in the moving Paffion , I fhould not paint its Flames with equal warmth ; Strength , Life , and glowing Colours ...
... speak of Love- RODOGUNE . But not of his . ARIBERT . " Tis True , I fhould not grace the Story much , Rude and unskilful in the moving Paffion , I fhould not paint its Flames with equal warmth ; Strength , Life , and glowing Colours ...
Сторінка 60
... Streets , And the Gods call to Arms . KING . What means the Fear That trembles in thy pale , thy haggard Visage ? Speak out , and ease this Labor of thy Soul . SEOFRID . SEOFRID . Oh fly , my Lord ; the Torrent 60 ... The ROYAL CONVERT .
... Streets , And the Gods call to Arms . KING . What means the Fear That trembles in thy pale , thy haggard Visage ? Speak out , and ease this Labor of thy Soul . SEOFRID . SEOFRID . Oh fly , my Lord ; the Torrent 60 ... The ROYAL CONVERT .
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The Works: The Royal Convert. Jane Shore. Jane Gray. Poems on Several Occasions Nicholas Rowe Попередній перегляд недоступний - 2016 |
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againſt ALICIA ARIBER ARIBERT Arms art thou Beauty behold BELLMOUR Bleffings Bofom Breaft Britons Cauſe Crown Curfe dear Death doft thou Dutchefs of SUFFOLK ETHELINDA ev'n ev'ry Exeunt Eyes facred fafe fair Faith fame Fate fave fcorn Fears fecret feek feems fhall fhould fince firft firſt foft fome Friend Friendſhip ftand ftill fuch fure GARDINER gentle GLO'S GLO'STER Gods Grace Guard GUILFORD Haftings Hand HASTINGS Heart Heav'n Honor Hopes JANE SHORE juft King Lady JANE laft laſt Lord Lord Guilford Dudley Love Mafter moft moſt muft muſt myſelf noble NORTHUMBERLAND o'er Offa OFRID once OSWAL Paffion Peace PEMBROKE Pity Pleaſure Pow'r prefent Prince Queen Rage Reaſon reft rife RODOGUNE royal Saxon Senfe Seofrid ſhall ſhe Sorrows Soul ſpeak ſtill thee thefe theſe thofe thoſe thou art Thought thouſand thro truft whofe Wiſhes Wo't thou wou'd wretched
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Сторінка 124 - Perhaps, ev'n she may profit by th' example, And teach her beauty not to scorn my pow'r. Glost. This do, and wait me e'er the council sits. [Exeunt Rat. and Cat. My lord, y'are well encountred ; here has been A fair petitioner this morning with us ; Believe me, she has won me much to pity her: Alas! her gentle nature was not made To buffet with adversity. I told her How worthily her cause you had befriended ; How much for your good sake we meant to do, That you had spoke, and all things should be...
Сторінка 141 - Here then exchange we mutually forgiveness : So may the guilt of all my broken vows, My perjuries to thee, be all forgotten, As here my soul acquits thee of my death, As here I part without one angry thought, As here I leave thee with the softest tenderness, Mourning the chance of our disastrous loves, And begging Heav'n to bless and to support thee.
Сторінка 135 - Oh, thou most righteous Judge — Humbly behold, I bow myself to thee, And own thy justice in this hard decree: No longer, then, my ripe offences spare, But what I merit, let me learn to bear. Yet since 'tis all my wretchedness can give, For my past crimes my forfeit life receive; No pity for my sufferings here I crave, And only hope forgiveness in the grave.
Сторінка 155 - Why thus indulge thy fears ? And in despair, Abandon thy distracted soul to horror ? Cast every black and guilty thought behind thee, And let 'em never vex thy quiet more.
Сторінка 102 - How few, like thee, inquire the wretched out, And court the offices of soft Humanity ? Like thee reserve their raiment for the naked, Reach out their bread to feed the crying orphan, Or mix their pitying tears with those that weep ? Thy praise deserves a better tongue than mine, To speak and bless thy name.
Сторінка 127 - And swept away distinction? Peasants trod Upon the necks of nobles. Low were laid The reverend crosier and the holy mitre, And desolation cover'd all the land.
Сторінка 119 - So when the spring renews the flow'ry field, And warns the pregnant nightingale to build, She seeks the safest shelter of the wood, Where she may trust her little tuneful brood, Where no rude swains her shady cell may know, No serpents climb, nor blasting winds may blow; Fond of the chosen place, she views it o'er, Sits there and wanders through the grove no more.
Сторінка 139 - Thy reason is grown wild. Could thy weak hand Bring on this mighty ruin? If it could, What have I done so grievous to thy soul, So deadly, so beyond the reach of pardon, That nothing but my life can make atonement?
Сторінка 142 - Retire, I beg thee; To see thee thus, thou know'st not how it wounds me; Thy agonies are added to my own, And make the burden more than I can bear.
Сторінка 148 - Danc'd all the day before her, and at night Soft slumbers waited on her downy pillow — Now sad and shelterless, perhaps, she lies, Where piercing winds blow sharp, and the chill rain Drops from some pent-house on her wretched head, Drenches her locks, and kills her with the cold. It is too much Hence with her past offences, They are aton'd at full Why stay we, then ? Oh ! let us haste, my friend, and find her out.