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art thou beams beauty Beauty's beneath blast bless blest blush bosom bower breast breath bright brow charms cheek cotton grass Croesus dear death delight despair dread drest dwell ev'ry Fanny blooming fair fate fear feel flow flowers fond gale gentle glow grace grave grief hand happy hast hear heart heav'n hope hour LADY light lips looks lov'd lyre maid Mary moorish ne'er night nymph o'er pain pale pang passion peace Pity poor pow'r praise pride rage rais'd rest rise round rove shade shine sigh sight skies sleep smile soft song Sonnet soon sorrow soul spring swain sweet sweet sensation swell tear tempests tender thee thine thou thro tongue trembling Twas vale virgin's first love virtue voice vows waves wild wild passion willow wind winding sheet wing youth
Стр. 18 - Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, Where furious Frank, and fiery Hun,' Shout in their sulphurous canopy. The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory or the grave ! Wave, Munich ! all thy banners wave ! And charge with all thy chivalry...
Стр. 180 - Thy silver locks, once auburn bright, Are still more lovely in my sight Than golden beams of orient light, My Mary!
Стр. 14 - Old Kaspar took it from the boy, Who stood expectant by; And then the old man shook his head, And with a natural sigh, ' 'Tis some poor fellow's skull,' said he, 'Who fell in the great victory.
Стр. 87 - twas wild. But thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair, What was thy delighted measure? Still it whisper'd promised pleasure, And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail ! Still would her touch the strain prolong; And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, She call'd on Echo still, through all the song: And, where her sweetest theme she chose, A soft responsive voice was heard at every close, And Hope enchanted smiled, and waved her golden hair.
Стр. 19 - 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...
Стр. 167 - Who slept in buds the day, And many a Nymph who wreathes her brows with sedge, And sheds the freshening dew, and, lovelier still, The pensive Pleasures sweet, Prepare thy shadowy car.
Стр. 40 - Then holding the spectacles up to the court — Your lordship observes they are made with a straddle As wide as the ridge of the Nose is ; in short, Designed to sit close to it, just like a saddle.
Стр. 180 - Twas my distress that brought thee low, My Mary! Thy needles, once a shining store, For my sake restless heretofore, Now rust disused, and shine no more; My Mary! For though thou gladly wouldst fulfil The same kind office for me still, Thy sight now seconds not thy will, My Mary!
Стр. 17 - On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow ; And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.