The pleasures of memory, by S. Rogers. The pleasures of hope, by T. Campbell

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Стр. 77 - Oh, bloodiest picture in the book of Time, Sarmatia fell, unwept, without a crime ; Found not a generous friend, a pitying foe, Strength in her arms, nor mercy in her woe...
Стр. 78 - Yes ! thy proud lords, unpitied land ! shall see That man hath yet a soul— and dare be free ! A little while, along thy saddening plains, The starless night of desolation reigns ; Truth shall restore the light by Nature given, And, like Prometheus, bring the fire of Heaven ! Prone to the dust Oppression shall be hurl'd, Her name, her nature, wither'd from the world...
Стр. 61 - AT summer eve, when Heaven's ethereal bow Spans with bright arch the glittering hills below, Why to yon mountain turns the musing eye, Whose sunbright summit mingles with the sky ? Why do those cliffs of shadowy tint appear More sweet than all the landscape smiling near ?'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view, And robes the mountain in its azure hue.
Стр. 22 - To soothe and sweeten all the cares we know ; Whose glad suggestions still each vain alarm, When nature fades, and life forgets to charm ; Thee would the Muse invoke ! — to thee belong The sage's precept and the poet's song. What...
Стр. 37 - SWEET MEMORY, wafted by thy gentle gale, Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail, To view the fairy haunts of long-lost hours, Blest •with far greener shades, far fresher flowers.
Стр. 77 - Earth shook — red meteors flashed along the sky, And conscious Nature shuddered at the cry. Oh ! righteous Heaven ; ere Freedom found a grave, Why slept the sword, omnipotent to save ? Where was thine arm, O Vengeance ! where thy rod.
Стр. 102 - Are these the pompous tidings ye proclaim, Lights of the world, and demi-gods of Fame ? Is this your triumph — this your proud applause, Children of Truth, and champions of her cause...
Стр. 56 - Lighter than air, Hope's summer-visions die, If but a fleeting cloud obscure the sky; If but a beam of sober Reason play, Lo, Fancy's fairy frost-work melts away ! But can the wiles of Art, the grasp of Power, Snatch the rich relics of a well-spent hour? These, when the trembling spirit wings her flight, Pour round her path a stream of living light ; And gild those pure and perfect realms of rest, Where Virtue triumphs, and her sons are blest ! HUMAN LIFE.
Стр. 106 - And weep not thus," he cried, " young Ellenore, My bosom bleeds, but soon shall bleed no more ! Short shall this half-extinguished spirit burn, And soon these limbs to kindred dust return ! But not, my child, with life's precarious fire, The immortal ties of Nature shall expire ; These shall resist the triumph of decay, When time is o'er, and worlds have passed away ! Cold in the dust this...
Стр. 108 - Eternal Hope ! when yonder spheres sublime Pealed their first notes to sound the march of Time, Thy joyous youth began — but not to fade. — When all the sister planets have decayed ; When...

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