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ancient awful bear beauty beneath boaſt bow'rs breaſt breathe bright Bring brow chearful death deep delight divine ev'ry fair faithful fall fame Fancy fate field fire firſt flow flower fons freſh glory grace green hand head hear heart Heav'n hills hold hope king land laws lead leave light live maid mild mind morn Muſe nature night nymph o'er once Oxford peace plain pow'r pride prince proud Queen rage reign riſe round ſcene ſee ſhade ſhall ſhe ſmiles ſome ſong ſoul ſpread ſtand ſtate ſteps ſtill ſtrain ſtream ſuch ſweet ſword tear tell tender thee theſe thine thoſe thou thought thro throne tow'rs vain vale virtue voice wave whoſe winds wings wood Youth
Side 68 - There at the foot of yonder nodding beech, That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
Side 65 - The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. 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.
Side 69 - Epitaph 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 40 - Whose numbers, stealing through thy darkening vale, May not unseemly with its stillness suit ; As musing slow I hail Thy genial loved return. For when thy folding-star * arising shows His paly circlet, at his warning lamp The fragrant Hours, and Elves 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.
Side 65 - Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
Side 67 - Some village-Hampden, that with dauntlefs breaft The little Tyrant of his fields withftood; Some mute inglorious Milton here may reft, Some Cromwell guiltlefs of his country's blood.. Th...
Side 41 - While Spring shall pour his showers, as oft he wont, And bathe thy breathing tresses, meekest Eve! While Summer loves to sport Beneath thy lingering light; While sallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves Or Winter, yelling through the troublous air, Affrights thy shrinking train, And rudely rends thy robes; So long, regardful of thy quiet rule, Shall Fancy, Friendship, Science, smiling Peace, Thy gentlest influence own, And love thy favourite name!
Side 67 - Lot forbad : nor circumscrib'd alone Their growing Virtues, but their Crimes confin'd ; Forbad to wade through Slaughter to a Throne, And...