Bell's Classical Arrangement of Fugitive Poetry, Объемы 11-12J. Bell, 1790 |
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Стр. 19
... rage , Unlock'd its iron clasps , and op'd the heav'nly page . XII . " My name is Truth , and you , each holy seer , That all my steps with ardent gaze pursue , Unveil , she said , the sacred myst❜ries here , Give the celestial boon to ...
... rage , Unlock'd its iron clasps , and op'd the heav'nly page . XII . " My name is Truth , and you , each holy seer , That all my steps with ardent gaze pursue , Unveil , she said , the sacred myst❜ries here , Give the celestial boon to ...
Стр. 46
... rage , and malice fell , To put your Life to death ; ah ! now repent For murdering your Lord ! ah ! now lament His Death , that would have brought you into Ja- phet's Tent . XIII . And ye sage Men , who covet Adam's 46 Poem V. POEMS ...
... rage , and malice fell , To put your Life to death ; ah ! now repent For murdering your Lord ! ah ! now lament His Death , that would have brought you into Ja- phet's Tent . XIII . And ye sage Men , who covet Adam's 46 Poem V. POEMS ...
Стр. 55
... rage devouring spread , And whelm'd the hapless youth in Ocean's liquid bed . XIV . Then Patience meek , as from my rending heart , She heard deep utter'd the expressive sighs , " Seest thou ( she said ) that youth's undaunted part ...
... rage devouring spread , And whelm'd the hapless youth in Ocean's liquid bed . XIV . Then Patience meek , as from my rending heart , She heard deep utter'd the expressive sighs , " Seest thou ( she said ) that youth's undaunted part ...
Стр. 61
... rage , In this I share the fate of greater men ; Pale Envy ever gnaws the laurel'd page , And ' gainst all worthy wight doth war perpetual wage . II . If thee , sweet nymph , these simple lines aggrate , If I may hope to merit thine ...
... rage , In this I share the fate of greater men ; Pale Envy ever gnaws the laurel'd page , And ' gainst all worthy wight doth war perpetual wage . II . If thee , sweet nymph , these simple lines aggrate , If I may hope to merit thine ...
Стр. 80
... rage , thou chusest to abide ; Blest residence ! for there , as poets tell , The powers of Poetry and Wisdom dwell ; Apollo wakes the Arts , the Muses strike the shell . IV . Certes o'er Rhedicyna's laurel'd mead , ( For ever spread ...
... rage , thou chusest to abide ; Blest residence ! for there , as poets tell , The powers of Poetry and Wisdom dwell ; Apollo wakes the Arts , the Muses strike the shell . IV . Certes o'er Rhedicyna's laurel'd mead , ( For ever spread ...
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amorous tale ANTISTROPHE Behold beneath bids blest bliss bloom bosom bowers breast breathes bright brow charms cheek cherub dales dark deep delight desart doth dreadful drest earth EDWARD POCOCKE Ev'n ev'ry fair fame Fancy Fancy's fear fire flame flowers fond fountaines ring gloom glow Goddess grace green grove hail hand heart heaven heavenly hills Hymettus Ianthe JOSEPH WARTON light lyre magic maid mead mild mind Mirth Muse Nature's ne'er night numbers nymph o'er pale peace plain pleasure POEM pow'r pride rage rill ROBERT LOWTH round rove sacred sage SAMUEL BOYSE scene shade sighs sight sing skies smiles smiling Train soft song sooth sorrow soul sound strain stream swain sweet swell tear thee thine THOMAS DENTON THOMAS PENROSE thou thro throne toil trembling vale wanton wave ween wild WILLIAM MASON winds wing youth
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Стр. 91 - THY spirit, Independence ! let me share, Lord of the lion-heart and eagle-eye ; Thy steps I follow with my bosom bare, Nor heed the storm that howls along the sky.
Стр. 89 - To-day though gales propitious blow, And Peace, soft gliding down the sky, Lead Love along and Harmony, To-morrow the gay scene deforms ; Then all around The thunder's sound Rolls rattling on through heaven's profound, And down rush all the storms. Ye days, that balmy influence shed, When sweet Childhood, ever sprightly, In paths of pleasure sported lightly, Whither, ah, whither are ye fled...
Стр. 63 - O lover of the desert, hail ! Say, in what deep and pathless vale, Or on what hoary mountain's side...
Стр. 65 - A thousand widows' shrieks I hear, Give me another horse, I cry, lo t the base GALLIC squadrons fly ; Whence is this rage ?—what spirit, say, To battle hurries me away ? 'Tis FANCY, in her fiery car, Transports me to the thickest war, There whirls me o'er the hills of slain, Where Tumult and Destruction reign; Where mad with pain, the wounded steed Tramples the dying and the dead ; Where giant Terror stalks around, With sullen joy surveys the ground, And pointing to th
Стр. 133 - Through this still valley let me stray, Rapt in some strain of pensive GRAY: Whose lofty genius bears along The conscious dignity of Song; And, scorning from the sacred store To waste a note on Pride or Power, Roves...
Стр. 64 - Peace resort, And Venus keeps her festive court, Where Mirth and Youth each evening meet, And lightly trip with nimble feet, Nodding their lily-crowned heads, Where Laughter rose-lipp'd Hebe leads ; Where Echo walks steep hills among, Listening to the shepherd's song.
Стр. 89 - Woe, and groan of grim Despair. Lo, wizard Envy from his serpent eye Darts quick destruction in each baleful glance ; Pride smiling stern, and yellow Jealousy, Frowning Disdain, and haggard Hate advance; Behold, amidst the dire array, Pale wither'd Care his giant-stature rears, And lo, his iron hand prepares To grasp its feeble prey.
Стр. 25 - Hercules," she said With manly tone, " thy birth of heav'nly race ; Thy tender age that lov'd Instruction's voice, Promis'd thee generous, patient, brave, and wise; When manhood should confirm thy glorious choice ; Now expectation waits to see thee rise. Rise, youth ! exalt thyself, and me : approve Thy high descent from heav'n ; and dare be worthy Jove.
Стр. 89 - Who now will guard bewilder'd youth Safe from the fierce assault of hostile rage ? Such war can Virtue wage, Virtue, that bears the sacred shield of Truth ? Alas ! full oft on Guilt's victorious car, The spoils of Virtue are in triumph borne ; While the fair captive, mark'd with many a scar, In long obscurity, oppress'd, forlorn, Resigns to tears her angel form.
Стр. 62 - O'er all my artless songs preside, My footsteps to thy temple guide, To offer at thy turf-built shrine, In golden cups no costly wine, No murdered fatling of the flock, But flowers and honey from the rock.