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Abel Aldborough ALPHEUS FELCH answer'd appear'd beauty behold BOROUGH bosom call'd Castle of Otranto comfort Crabbe Crabbe's cried crime Cymbeline dare deed delight dread dream dull Dunciad Edinburgh Review fair fancy Farmer fate father fear fear'd feel felt fill'd fix'd foes fond friendly pair gain'd GEORGE CRABBE give gloom grace grave grew grief grieved Gwyn happy hast heart honour hope hour humble Jonas kind knew lady live look look'd Lord lover maid meads of asphodel mind Muse Normanston nymph o'er pain pass'd passion PETER GRIMES pity pleasure poet poor possess'd praise pray'd pride priest remain'd rest scene scorn seem'd shame sigh sigh'd silent smile sorrow soul speak spirit strong sweet Sybil TALE terror thee thou art thought trembling truth turn'd Twas vex'd widow wish'd young youth
Сторінка 241 - Yes, I am proud ; I must be proud to see Men, not afraid of God, afraid of me ; Safe from the bar, the pulpit, and the throne, Yet touch'd and sham'd by ridicule alone.
Сторінка 261 - I have heard of your paintings too, well enough ; God hath given you one face and you make yourselves another: you jig, you amble, and you lisp, and nick-name God's creatures, and make your wantonness your ignorance.
Сторінка 48 - I fix'd my eyes On the mid stream and saw the spirits rise: I saw my father on the water stand, And hold a thin pale boy in either hand; And there they glided ghastly on the top Of the salt flood, and never touch 'da drop: I would have struck them, but they knew th' intent, And smiled upon the oar, and down they went.
Сторінка 143 - The great cause of the present deplorable state of English poetry is to be attributed to that absurd and systematic depreciation of Pope, in which, for the last few years, there has been a kind of epidemical concurrence.
Сторінка 283 - Brief as the lightning in the collied night, That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth. And ere a man hath power to say, — Behold ! The jaws of darkness do devour it up : So quick bright things come to confusion.
Сторінка 84 - Be it a weakness, it deserves some praise, We love the playplace of our early days ; The scene is touching, and the heart is stone That feels not at that sight, and feels at none.
Сторінка 283 - Ah me ! for aught that ever I could read, Could ever hear by tale or history, . The course of true love never did run smooth : J But, either it was different in blood ; — Lys.
Сторінка 6 - In the evening I sat down, and began to write, without knowing in the least what I intended to say or relate. The work grew on my hands, and I grew fond of it— add, that I was very glad to think of anything, rather than politics.
Сторінка 85 - That, viewing it, we seem almost to obtain Our innocent sweet simple years again. This fond attachment to the well-known place Whence first we started into life's long race, Maintains its hold with such unfailing sway, We feel it e'en in age, and at our latest day.