The temple of Apollo, being a selection of the best poems, from the most esteem'd authors, by W. Hodgson1800 |
Inni boken
Resultat 1-5 av 7
Side 5
... IANTHE , thine alone , Ineffable effufion of the day ! So very much the fame , that lovers say , MAY IS IANTHE ; or the dear IANTHE , MAY . So far as doth the harbinger of day The leffer lamps of night in theen excel ; So far in ...
... IANTHE , thine alone , Ineffable effufion of the day ! So very much the fame , that lovers say , MAY IS IANTHE ; or the dear IANTHE , MAY . So far as doth the harbinger of day The leffer lamps of night in theen excel ; So far in ...
Side 12
... IANTHE fmile , Though low my numbers , and though rude my ftyle ; Ne quit for Acidale , fair Albion's happy ifle . Come then , IANTHE ! milder than the spring , And grateful as the rofy month of MAY , O come ; the birds the hymn of ...
... IANTHE fmile , Though low my numbers , and though rude my ftyle ; Ne quit for Acidale , fair Albion's happy ifle . Come then , IANTHE ! milder than the spring , And grateful as the rofy month of MAY , O come ; the birds the hymn of ...
Side 13
... IANTHE , you alone impart Balm to my wounds , and cordial to my finart : The apple of my eye , the life - blood of my heart . With line of filk , with hook of barbed steel , Beneath this oaken umbrage let us lay , And from the water's ...
... IANTHE , you alone impart Balm to my wounds , and cordial to my finart : The apple of my eye , the life - blood of my heart . With line of filk , with hook of barbed steel , Beneath this oaken umbrage let us lay , And from the water's ...
Side 14
... IANTHE , cruel time lays wafte The roses of the cheek , the lilies of the breast . Weep not ; but , rather taught by this , improve The prefent frefhnefs of thy fpringing prime : Beftow thy graces on the god of love , Too precious for ...
... IANTHE , cruel time lays wafte The roses of the cheek , the lilies of the breast . Weep not ; but , rather taught by this , improve The prefent frefhnefs of thy fpringing prime : Beftow thy graces on the god of love , Too precious for ...
Side 42
... Meanwhile the mufes wake the lyre , The graces modeft mirth inspire , Good - natur'd humour , harmless wit ; Well temper'd joys , nor grave , nor light . Let facred Venus with her heir , And dear IANTHE 42 TEMPLE OF APOLLO .
... Meanwhile the mufes wake the lyre , The graces modeft mirth inspire , Good - natur'd humour , harmless wit ; Well temper'd joys , nor grave , nor light . Let facred Venus with her heir , And dear IANTHE 42 TEMPLE OF APOLLO .
Vanlige uttrykk og setninger
beauty beneath blefs bleft blifs bloom bofom bow'r breaft breath bright charms cheek cry'd dear defert delight dreft e'er earth ev'ning ev'ry facred fafe faid fair fancy fate fcene fecret feek feen fhade fhall fhine fhore fide figh filent fing firanger firft fkies fleep flow flow'rs fmiles foft folemn fome fong fons foon footh forrow foul fpirit fpread fpring ftill ftorm ftray ftream fuch fwain fweet glow goddefs grace grove happy heart heav'n hermit IANTHE juft laft loft lov'd lyre maid mind MIRTH moffy moft morn mufe muft MUSIDORA nature's night nymph o'er paffion pain PALEMON PEACE pleaſure pow'r praife pride reft rife rofe round ſhade ſhall ſhe ſkies ſky ſtate tears thee thefe theſe thine thofe thou thouſand Twas vale vermil VIRTUE weft whofe wild wind youth
Populære avsnitt
Side 27 - One morn I missed him on the customed hill, Along the heath and near his favourite tree; Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; 'The next with dirges due in sad array Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou can'st read) the lay, Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Side 190 - Slaves cannot breathe in England ; if their lungs Receive our air, that moment they are free ; They touch our country, and their shackles fall.
Side 27 - Here rests his head upon the lap of earth A youth, to fortune and to fame unknown: Fair science frown'd not on his humble birth, And melancholy mark'd him for her own. Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere...
Side 190 - I would not have a slave to till my ground, To carry me, to fan me while I sleep, And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth That sinews bought and sold have ever earn'd.
Side 123 - And when the Sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring To arched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown that Sylvan loves Of Pine, or monumental Oak, Where the rude Axe with heaved stroke, Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt.
Side 82 - Delightful task! to rear the tender thought, To teach the young idea how to shoot...
Side 45 - Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden flower grows wild ; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year...
Side 59 - Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way, With blossom'd furze unprofitably gay, There, in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule, The village master taught his little school. A man severe he was, and stern to view ; I knew him well, and every truant knew : Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace The day's disasters in his morning face...
Side 23 - In forest, brake or den, As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude ; Men who their duties know, But know their rights, and, knowing, dare maintain, Prevent the long-aimed blow, And crush the tyrant while they rend the chain ; These constitute a State; And sovereign law, that State's collected will, O'er thrones and globes elate Sits empress, crowning good, repressing ill.
Side 119 - And ever, against eating cares, Lap me in soft Lydian airs, Married to immortal verse, Such as the meeting soul may pierce, In notes with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out With wanton heed and giddy cunning, The melting voice through mazes running, Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony ; That Orpheus...