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Side 378 - The impetuous song, and say from whom you rage. His praise, ye brooks, attune, ye trembling rills ; And let me catch it as I muse along. Ye headlong torrents, rapid, and profound ; Ye softer floods, that lead the humid maze Along the vale ; and thou, majestic main, A secret world of wonders in thyself, Sound His stupendous praise ; whose greater voice Or bids you roar, or bids your roarings fall.
Side 376 - Mysterious round ! what skill, what force divine, Deep felt, in these appear ! a simple train, Yet so delightful mix'd, with such kind art, Such beauty and beneficence combined ; Shade, unperceived, so softening into shade; And all so forming an harmonious whole ; That, as they still succeed, they ravish still.
Side 384 - IN yonder grave a Druid lies, Where slowly winds the stealing wave ; The year's best sweets shall duteous rise To deck its poet's sylvan grave. In yon deep bed of whispering reeds His airy harp shall now be laid, That he, whose heart in sorrow bleeds, May love through life the soothing shade.
Side 108 - And thus their moments fly. The Seasons thus, As ceaseless round a jarring world they roll, Still find them happy ; and consenting SPRING Sheds her own rosy garland on their heads : Till evening comes at last, serene and mild ; When after the long vernal day of life, Enamour'd more, as more remembrance swells With many a proof of recollected love, Together down they sink in social sleep ; Together freed, their gentle spirits fly To scenes where love and bliss immortal reign.
Side 38 - COME, gentle SPRING! ethereal Mildness! come; And from the bosom of yon dropping cloud, While music wakes around, veil'd in a shower Of shadowing roses, on our plains descend.
Side 330 - In vain for him th' officious wife prepares The fire fair-blazing and the vestment warm; In vain his little children, peeping out Into the mingling storm, demand their sire, With tears of artless innocence. Alas ! Nor wife, nor children, more shall he behold, Nor friends, nor sacred home.
Side 192 - Of faithful love : I go to guard thy haunt, To keep from thy recess each vagrant foot, And each licentious eye." With wild surprise, As if to marble struck, devoid of sense, A stupid moment motionless she stood : So stands the statue that enchants the world ; So bending tries to veil the matchless boast, The mingled beauties of exulting Greece.
Side 74 - Tis love creates their melody, and all This waste of music is the voice of love ; That even to birds, and beasts, the tender arts Of pleasing teaches. Hence the glossy kind Try every winning way inventive love Can dictate, and in courtship to their mates Pour forth their little souls. First, wide around...
Side 332 - With friendship, peace, and contemplation join'd, How many, rack'd with honest passions, droop In deep retir'd distress. How many stand Around the death-bed of their dearest friends, And point the parting anguish. Thought fond man Of these, and all the thousand nameless ills, That one incessant struggle render life, One scene of toil, of suffering, and of fate...