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appear arms bear beauty beneath breaſt breath bright charms court dear death deep delight earth eyes face fair fame fate fear fields fire firſt flame flow flowers give grace grove hand head hear heart heaven hills honour hope hour human kind kings land laws light live look maid mind morn Muſe muſt native nature never night nymph o'er once pain peace plain pleaſe pleaſure praiſe pride proud race rage riſe round ſay ſcene ſee ſhade ſhall ſhe ſhould ſmile ſoft ſome ſong ſoul ſpread ſtill ſtream ſuch ſweet tears tell thee theſe thine thoſe thou thought toil tongue train true truth turn vain various virtue voice wave whoſe wild wind wing woods youth
Стр. 278 - For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn Or busy housewife ply her evening care : No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
Стр. 281 - 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. 60 - 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. 278 - Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
Стр. 279 - There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noon-tide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
Стр. 278 - 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. 282 - Far, far aloof th' affrighted ravens sail ; The famish'd eagle screams, and passes by. Dear lost companions of my tuneful art, Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes, Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart, Ye died amidst your dying country's cries — No more I weep. They do not sleep. On yonder cliffs, a...
Стр. 278 - To thee he gave the heavenly birth, And bade to form her infant mind. Stern rugged Nurse ! thy rigid lore With patience many a year she bore : What sorrow was, thou bad'st her know, And from her own she learn'd to melt at others