Bell's Classical Arrangement of Fugitive Poetry, Объемы 7-8J. Bell, 1789 |
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Стр. 3
... glories first I view'd , That in one moment my whole heart subdued ! With such resistless beams , so fierce they shone , Not such the dazzling radiance of thy crown ! Sent from thy crown I never felt a dart ; The lover , not the monarch ...
... glories first I view'd , That in one moment my whole heart subdued ! With such resistless beams , so fierce they shone , Not such the dazzling radiance of thy crown ! Sent from thy crown I never felt a dart ; The lover , not the monarch ...
Стр. 11
... - impelling dart , O ! think it aim'd at Rosamonda's heart ! Were but each breast as soft as mine , no more Should tumults rise , or martial thunders roar : Heroes should scorn the glories of the field , And Epist . 1 . AND AMATORY .
... - impelling dart , O ! think it aim'd at Rosamonda's heart ! Were but each breast as soft as mine , no more Should tumults rise , or martial thunders roar : Heroes should scorn the glories of the field , And Epist . 1 . AND AMATORY .
Стр. 12
John Bell. Heroes should scorn the glories of the field , And the fam'd laurel to the myrtle yield : For sweeter passions sweeter strifes inspire , And love alone should set the soul on fire . May then these eyes in tears no longer mourn ...
John Bell. Heroes should scorn the glories of the field , And the fam'd laurel to the myrtle yield : For sweeter passions sweeter strifes inspire , And love alone should set the soul on fire . May then these eyes in tears no longer mourn ...
Стр. 14
... glories ! empires ! crowns ! how weak ye prove , If thus out - rivall'd by a dream of love ! O Love ! what joys thy real sweets bestow , When even their shadows can transport me so ! O bliss extatic ! blest relief from cares ! Thus let ...
... glories ! empires ! crowns ! how weak ye prove , If thus out - rivall'd by a dream of love ! O Love ! what joys thy real sweets bestow , When even their shadows can transport me so ! O bliss extatic ! blest relief from cares ! Thus let ...
Стр. 15
... sighs my sweet alarms , Nor worlds , but Rosamonda crown my arms ! In her alone my full desires agree , Her charms are empires , glories , all to me ! EPISTLE III . FROM DE LA POLE , Duke of Epist . II . 45 AND AMATORY .
... sighs my sweet alarms , Nor worlds , but Rosamonda crown my arms ! In her alone my full desires agree , Her charms are empires , glories , all to me ! EPISTLE III . FROM DE LA POLE , Duke of Epist . II . 45 AND AMATORY .
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Abelard anguish ARISBE arms beauty blest bliss bloom blush boast bosom breast breath bright brow confest crimes dear death despair dread e'er ELEGY Eloisa EPISTLE ev'n ev'ry eyes fair fame fancy farewell fate fear flame fond gale gloom glories glow grace grief grove hand Heaven honor hope hour ideal chain JAMES CAWTHORNE JOHN DELAP joys Lord LORD GUILFORD DUDLEY lov'd love's lover lyre maid melting mind mourn Muse night o'er pain pangs passion peace pity Pompey pow'r pride rage rapture red vengeance RICHARD JAGO rise Rome sacred Saviour bleeds scenes scorn shade shore shrine sigh smile soft sorrow soul sweet tears tender thee thine thou thought thro throne thy breast thy charms thy heart thy soul toil trembling truth Twas vale virtue vows warm whilst wild wish woes wretched ye Ministers youth Zara
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Стр. 127 - E'en have you seen, bath'd in the morning dew, The budding rose, its infant bloom display ; When first its virgin tints unfold to view, It shrinks, and scarcely trusts the blaze of day. " So soft, so delicate, so sweet she came, Youth's damask glow, just dawning on her cheek, I gaz'd, I sigh'd, I caught the tender flame, Felt the fond pang, and droop'd with passion weak.
Стр. 153 - scape from Fortune's rage, And bear the scars of envy, spite, and scorn, Yet with mankind no horrid war I wage, Yet with no impious spleen my breast is torn : For virtue lost, and ruin'd man, I mourn.
Стр. 172 - Were once the silent mansions of the dead. In every shrub, in every flow'ret's bloom, That paints with different hues yon smiling plain, Some hero's ashes issue from the tomb, And live a vegetative life again. For matter dies not, as the Sages say, But shifts to other forms the pliant mass.
Стр. 28 - ... design. Ambrosial blossoms, such of old as blew By those fresh founts on Eden's happy plain, And Sharon's roses all his passage strew : So fancy dreams ; but fancy's dreams are vain. Wasted and weary on the mountain's side, His way unknown, the hapless pilgrim lies, Or takes some ruthless robber for his guide, And prone beneath his cruel sabre dies. Life's morning-landscape gilt with orient light, Where hope and joy and fancy hold their reign...
Стр. 79 - Enough has Heaven indulg'd of joy below, To tempt our tarriance in this lov'd retreat: Enough has Heaven ordain'd of useful woe, To make us languish for a happier seat.
Стр. 11 - Too long, alas, my inexperienc'd youth, Misled by flattering Fortune's specious tale, Has left the rural reign of peace and truth, The huddling brook, cool cave, and whispering vale. Won to the world, a candidate for praise, Yet, let me boast, by no ignoble art, Too oft the public ear has heard my lays, Too much its vain applause has...
Стр. 90 - The mournful fequel of my tale ; Sent by an order from the fates, A gunner met them in the vale. Alarm'd the lover cry'd, My dear, Hafte. hafte away, from danger fly ; Here, gunner, point thy thunder here ; O fpare my love, and let me die.
Стр. 159 - God's blessings spring out of my mother earth, and eat my own bread in peace and privacy : a place where I may without disturbance meditate my approaching mortality, and that great account which all flesh must...
Стр. 6 - PARNELL'S modest fame, and may be mine. Go then, my Friend, nor let thy candid breast Condemn me, if I check the plausive string ; Go to the wayward world ; complete the rest ; Be, what the purest Muse would wish to sing. Be still thyself ; that open path of truth, Which led thee here, let manhood firm pursue ; Retain the sweet simplicity of youth, And, all thy virtue dictates, dare to do.
Стр. 6 - If 1'orE through friendship fail'd, indignant view, Yet pity, DRYDEN ; hark, whene'er he sings, How Adulation drops her courtly dew On titled rhymers and inglorious kings. See, from the depths of his exhaustless mine, His glittering stores the tuneful spendthrift throws ; Where fear or interest bids, behold they shine ; Now grace a CROMWELL'S, now a CHARLES'