Poems, by William Cowper, Esq: Together with His Posthumous Poetry, and a Sketch of His Life by John Johnson, Том 2E. Littlefield, 1841 |
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Сторінка 8
... the distant floor . These for the rich ; the rest , whom Fate had plac'd In modest mediocrity , content With base materials , sat on well - tann'd hides , 45 50 Obdurate and unyielding , glassy smooth , With here and 8 THE TASK .
... the distant floor . These for the rich ; the rest , whom Fate had plac'd In modest mediocrity , content With base materials , sat on well - tann'd hides , 45 50 Obdurate and unyielding , glassy smooth , With here and 8 THE TASK .
Сторінка 18
... rest , To which he forfeits e'en the rest he loves . Not such the alert and active . Measure life By its true worth , the comforts it affords , And theirs alone seems worthy of the name . Good health , and its associate in the most ...
... rest , To which he forfeits e'en the rest he loves . Not such the alert and active . Measure life By its true worth , the comforts it affords , And theirs alone seems worthy of the name . Good health , and its associate in the most ...
Сторінка 24
... rest , and with most cause , Thee , gentle savage ! * whom no love of thee Or thine , but curiosity perhaps , Or else vain glory , prompted us to draw 635 Forth from thy native bow'rs , to show thee here With what superiour skill we can ...
... rest , and with most cause , Thee , gentle savage ! * whom no love of thee Or thine , but curiosity perhaps , Or else vain glory , prompted us to draw 635 Forth from thy native bow'rs , to show thee here With what superiour skill we can ...
Сторінка 31
... rest . Is it a time to wrangle , when the props And pillars of our planet seem to fail , And Nature with a dim and sickly eye ‡ To wait the close of all ? But grant her end More distant , and that prophecy demands A longer respite ...
... rest . Is it a time to wrangle , when the props And pillars of our planet seem to fail , And Nature with a dim and sickly eye ‡ To wait the close of all ? But grant her end More distant , and that prophecy demands A longer respite ...
Сторінка 56
... rest are sober dreamers , grave and wise , And pregnant with discoveries new and rare . Some write a narrative of wars , and feats Of heroes little known ; and call the rant A history describe the man , of whom 140 And paint his person ...
... rest are sober dreamers , grave and wise , And pregnant with discoveries new and rare . Some write a narrative of wars , and feats Of heroes little known ; and call the rant A history describe the man , of whom 140 And paint his person ...
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beauty beneath boast breath call'd cause charms death delight design'd dicebox distant divine domestick dread dream e'en earth ease ev'ning ev'ry fair fame fancy fear feed feel fieldfare flow'r folly form'd fruit give glory grace grave Guelder Rose hand happy hast heard heart Heav'n honour human John Throckmorton JOSEPH HILL king labour learn'd less liberty liv'd live lost lov'd lyre magick man-The mind mounted best musick Nature Nature's Nebaioth never o'er once peace perhaps pleas'd pleasures plebeian pow'r praise proud prove publick rest sacred scene schools seek seem'd sensual World shine skies sleep smile song soon soul sound Stamp'd sweet sweet oblivion task taste thee theme thine thou art thought toil trembling truth Twas vex'd virtue voice waste WILLIAM COWPER wind winter wisdom wisely store worth youth
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Сторінка 30 - I would not have a slave to till my ground, To carry me, to fan me while I sleep, And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth That sinews bought and sold have ever earned.
Сторінка 30 - Slaves cannot breathe in England ; if their lungs Receive our air, that moment they are free ; They touch our country, and their shackles fall.
Сторінка 77 - Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups, That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful evening in.
Сторінка 183 - Shoots into port at some well-havened isle, Where spices breathe and brighter seasons smile, There sits quiescent on the floods, that show Her beauteous form reflected clear below, While airs impregnated with incense play Around her, fanning light her streamers gay, So thou, with sails how swift, hast reached the shore 'Where tempests never beat nor billows roar,' And thy loved consort on the dangerous tide Of life long since has anchored by thy side.
Сторінка 125 - The night was winter in his roughest mood; The morning sharp and clear. But now at noon Upon the southern side of the slant hills, And where the woods fence off the northern blast, The season smiles, resigning all its rage, And has the warmth of May. The vault is blue Without a cloud, and white without a speck The dazzling splendour of the scene below.
Сторінка 129 - The Lord of all, himself through all diffused, Sustains, and is the life of all that lives. Nature is but a name for an effect, Whose cause is God.
Сторінка 12 - Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds, Exhilarate the spirit, and restore The tone of languid Nature. Mighty winds, That sweep the skirt of some far-spreading wood Of ancient growth, make music not unlike The dash of ocean on his winding shore, And lull the spirit while they fill the mind; Unnumber'd branches waving in the blast, And all their leaves fast flutt'ring, all at once.
Сторінка 144 - One song employs all nations ; and all cry " Worthy the Lamb, for he was slain for us-! " The dwellers in the vales and on the rocks Shout to each other, and the mountain tops From distant mountains catch the flying joy ; Till, nation after nation taught the strain, Earth rolls the rapturous Hosanna round.
Сторінка 29 - OH for a lodge in some vast wilderness, Some boundless contiguity of shade, Where rumour of oppression and deceit, Of unsuccessful or successful war, Might never reach me more.
Сторінка 125 - The redbreast warbles still, but is content With slender notes, and more than half suppress'd ; Pleas'd with his solitude, and flitting light From spray to spray, where'er he rests he shakes From many a twig the pendent drops of ice, That tinkle in the wither'd leaves below. Stillness, accompanied with sounds so soft, Charms more than silence.