The Works of the English Poets: With Prefaces, Biographical and Critical, Том 56

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Стр. 329 - THE CURFEW tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The plowman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Стр. 330 - The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave Await alike th' inevitable hour : — The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Стр. 329 - Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds : Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tower, The moping owl does to the Moon complain Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, Molest her ancient solitary reign.
Стр. 327 - Tis folly to be wise. 287 HYMN TO ADVERSITY DAUGHTER of Jove, relentless power, Thou tamer of the human breast, Whose iron scourge and torturing hour The bad affright, afflict the best ! Bound in thy adamantine chain The proud are taught to taste of pain, And purple tyrants vainly groan With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone. When...
Стр. 344 - The winding-sheet of Edward's race; Give ample room and verge enough The characters of hell to trace: Mark the year, and mark the night, When Severn shall re-echo with affright The shrieks of death through Berkley's roofs that ring, Shrieks of an agonizing king!
Стр. 68 - Though meek, magnanimous, though witty, wise; Polite, as all her life in courts had been, Yet good, as she the world had never seen; The noble fire of an exalted mind, With gentlest female tenderness combin'd.
Стр. 338 - This pencil take' (she said), 'whose colours clear Richly paint the vernal year: Thine, too, these golden keys, immortal Boy! This can unlock the gates of joy; Of horror that...
Стр. 343 - And with a master's hand, and prophet's fire, Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre. ' Hark, how each giant-oak, and desert cave, Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath ! O'er thee, oh King ! their hundred arms they wave.
Стр. 60 - Lucy's grave, Perform the duties that you doubly owe! Now she, alas! is gone, From folly and from vice their helpless age to save...
Стр. 331 - Or heap the fhrine of Luxury and Pride With incenfe kindled at the Mufe's flame. Far from the madding crowd's ignoble ftrife, Their fober wifhes never learn'd to ftray ; Along the cool fequefter'd vale of life They kept the noifelefs tenor of their way.

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