A collection of poems, by several hands [ed. by R. Dodsley]. [2 other copies of vols. 5,6].

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Стр. 320 - Gainst graver hours that bring constraint To sweeten liberty: Some bold adventurers disdain The limits of their little reign And unknown regions dare descry: Still as they run they look behind, They hear a voice in every wind, And snatch a fearful joy.
Стр. 324 - To Contemplation's sober eye Such is the race of Man: And they that creep, and they that fly, Shall end where they began.
Стр. 322 - Th' unfeeling for his own. Yet, ah ! why should they know their fate. Since sorrow never comes too late, And happiness too swiftly flies? Thought would destroy their paradise! No more; — where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise.
Стр. 52 - Seek to be good, but aim not to be great: A woman's noblest station is retreat; Her fairest virtues fly from public sight, Domestic worth, that shuns too strong a light.
Стр. 83 - In vain I look around O'er all the well-known ground, My Lucy's wonted footsteps to descry ; Where oft we us'd to walk, Where oft in tender talk We saw the summer Sun go down the sky...
Стр. 45 - To whom I gave my own harmonious lyre,. If high exalted on the Throne of Wit, Near Me and Homer thou afpire to fit...
Стр. 85 - 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. 319 - A stranger yet to pain ! I feel the gales that from ye blow A momentary bliss bestow, As waving fresh their gladsome wing My weary soul they seem to soothe, And, redolent of joy and youth, To breathe a second spring.
Стр. 322 - A grisly troop are seen, The painful family of Death, More hideous than their Queen: This racks the joints, this fires the veins, That every labouring sinew strains, Those in the deeper vitals rage: Lo!
Стр. 390 - Or thirft of wealth thee from her banks divide: Reflect how calmly, like her infant wave, Flows the clear current of a private life ; See the wide public...

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