PoemsLongman, Hurst, Rees, and Orme, 1806 - Всего страниц: 185 |
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Allen Brooke anguish Anna arms awful bade beam beauty beguiled behold bless blest bloom boast bosom breast breath bright Brooke of Windermere brow charms cheek child cried crowds death deeds delight dread e'en Eudora eyes fame fate father's fear feel Fleet Street fond fondly forget frown gaze gloom glow graceful grief hail haste hear heart Heaven Henry's HINDUSTANI honoured hope hope and fear hour impart Love's lyre maid Memory's mimic line missa mother mourn ne'er negro night o'er ORPHAN BOY pale pang parents passion Philemon's pine plaintive Poor Mary Anne praise prayer pride rapture regret scene seek shine sigh sight smile soft SONG soon sooth sorrow soul sway sweet tale tardy tears tell tender thee thine thou Thou'lt throng tide tomb trembling triflers virgin's first love voice vows wake wave wish Zambo
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Стр. 143 - tis to be an orphan boy ! Oh ! were I by your bounty fed ! Nay, gentle lady, do not chide — Trust me, I mean to earn my bread; The sailor's orphan boy has pride. Lady, you weep! ha! this to me? You'll give me clothing, food, employ? Look down, dear parents ! look, and see Your happy, happy orphan boy...
Стр. 142 - Poor foolish child ! how pleased was I, When news of Nelson's victory came, Along the crowded streets to fly And see the lighted windows flame ! To force me home my mother sought : She could not bear to see my joy, For with my father's life 'twas bought, And made me a poor orphan boy. The people's shouts were long and loud : My mother, shuddering, closed her ears ; "Rejoice! rejoice!" still cried the crowd : My mother answered with her tears. " Why are you crying thus," said I, " While others laugh...
Стр. 141 - STAY, lady, stay, for mercy's sake, And hear a helpless orphan's tale ; Ah ! sure my looks must pity wake ; 'Tis want that makes my cheek so pale. Yet I was once a mother's pride, And my brave father's hope and joy ; But in the Nile's proud fight he died, And I am now an orphan boy.
Стр. 153 - With shutters clos'd, peers faintly thro' the gloom, That slow recedes; But most of it is very bad; and I did not consider it necessary to attempt to revive her merely because she was once taken seriously. Mrs. Opie, wife of the painter and author of The Blind Boy, was another celebrity. Her Lines Respectfully Inscribed to the Society for the Relief of Persons Imprisoned for Small Debts are so characteristic of the time that I wish I had space for them.
Стр. 101 - That fade before ye reach the heart,.... The crowded dome's distracted noise, Where all is pomp and useless art! Give me my home, to quiet dear, Where hours untold and peaceful move ; So fate ordain I sometimes there May hear the voice of him I love.
Стр. 142 - Tis want that makes my cheek so pale. Yet I was once a mother's pride, And my brave father's hope and joy ; But in the Nile's proud fight he died, And I am now an orphan boy. " Poor foolish child, how pleased was I, When news of Nelson's victory came, Along the crowded streets to fly, And see the lighted windows flame ! To force me home my mother sought ; She could not bear to see my joy ; For with my father's life 'twas bought, And made me a poor orphan boy. " The people's shouts were long and loud,...
Стр. 127 - And that the sufferer's bright dilated eye, Like mouldering wood, owes to decay alone " Its wondrous lustre :—ye who still have hoped, Even in death's dread presence, but at length Have heard the summons, (O heart-freezing...
Стр. 4 - ... lines Thy long averted eyes shall see, This hand that writes, this heart that pines, Will cold, quite cold, and tranquil be. That guilty child, so long disowned, Can then, blest thought ! no more offend ; And, shouldst thou deem my crimes atoned, O, deign my orphan to befriend : That orphan, who, with trembling hand, To thee will give my dying prayer ; Canst thou my dying prayer withstand, And from my child withhold thy care ? O, raise the veil, which hides her cheek, Nor start her mother's face...
Стр. 54 - Who knew, to sooth the slave's distress Was gentle Anna's dearest joy. And thence, an earnest suit to press, To Anna flew the Negro boy. 'Missa,' poor Zambo cried, 'sweet land Dey tell me dat you go to see, Vere, soon as on de shore he stand, De helpless Negro slave be free. ' Ah ! dearest missa, you so kind, Do take me to dat blessed shore, Dat I mine own dear land may find, And dose who love me see once more. ' Oh ! ven no slave, a boat I buy. For me a letel boat vould do, And over wave again I...
Стр. 148 - Yet sometimes deign, midst fairer maids, To think on her thou leav'st behind. Thy love, thy fate, dear youth, to share, Must never be my happy lot ; But thou mayst grant this humble prayer, Forget me not ! forget me not ! Yet, should the thought of my distress Too painful to thy feelings be, Heed not the wish I now express, Nor ever deign to think on me...