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Стр. 42 - Where the thin harvest waves its wither'd ears; Rank weeds, that every art and care defy, Reign o'er the land and rob the blighted rye : There thistles stretch their prickly arms afar, And to the ragged infant threaten war...
Стр. 272 - My hold of the colonies is in the close affection which grows from common names, from kindred blood, from similar privileges, and equal protection. These are ties which, though light as air, are as strong as links of iron. Let the colonies always keep the idea of their civil rights associated with your government ; they will cling and grapple to you, and no force under heaven will be of power to tear them from their allegiance. But let it...
Стр. 39 - When now the young are rear'd, and when the old, Lost to the tie, grow negligent and cold — Far to the left he saw the huts of men, Half hid in mist, that hung upon the fen ; Before him swallows, gathering for the sea, Took their short flights, and...
Стр. 39 - Far off, the petrel in the troubled way Swims with her brood, or flutters in the spray; She rises often, often drops again, And sports at ease on the tempestuous main.
Стр. 493 - April, .*^ Laugh thy girlish laughter ; Then, the moment after, Weep thy girlish tears ! April, that mine ears Like a lover greetest, If I tell thee, sweetest, All my hopes and fears, April, April, Laugh thy golden laughter, But, the moment after, Weep thy golden tears...
Стр. 63 - For of this sort are they which creep into houses, and lead captive silly women laden with sins, led away with divers lusts, ever learning, and never able to come to the knowledge of the truth.
Стр. 36 - THE Village Life, and every care that reigns O'er youthful peasants and declining swains; What labour yields, and what, that labour past, Age, in its hour of languor, finds at last; What form the real picture of the poor, Demand a song — the Muse can give no more. I Fled are those times when, in harmonious strains, (The rustic poet praised his native plains. No shepherds now, in smooth alternate verse, Their country's beauty or their nymphs...
Стр. 366 - Cased in the unfeeling armour of old time, The lightning, the fierce wind, and trampling waves. Farewell, farewell, the heart that lives alone, Housed in a dream, at distance from the kind ! Such happiness, wherever it be known, Is to be pitied ; for 'tis surely blind. But welcome fortitude, and patient cheer, And frequent sights of what is to be borne ! Such sights, or worse, as are before me here. — Not without hope we suffer and we mourn.
Стр. 495 - I strove with none, for none was worth my strife. Nature I loved and, next to Nature, Art; I warmed both hands before the fire of life; It sinks, and I am ready to depart.