The British Poets: Including Translations ...C. Whittingham, 1822 |
Inni boken
Resultat 1-5 av 24
Side 12
... pains to leave no memorials but a few poems ? But let it be considered that Mr. Gray was to others at least innocently employed ; to himself certainly beneficially . His time passed agree- ably : he was every day making some new acqui ...
... pains to leave no memorials but a few poems ? But let it be considered that Mr. Gray was to others at least innocently employed ; to himself certainly beneficially . His time passed agree- ably : he was every day making some new acqui ...
Side 29
... pain ! ye I feel the gales that from A momentary bliss bestow , blow As waving fresh their gladsome wing , My weary soul they seem to sooth , And , redolent of joy and youth2 , To breathe a second spring . 1 King Henry the Sixth ...
... pain ! ye I feel the gales that from A momentary bliss bestow , blow As waving fresh their gladsome wing , My weary soul they seem to sooth , And , redolent of joy and youth2 , To breathe a second spring . 1 King Henry the Sixth ...
Side 31
... painful family of Death , More hideous than their Queen : This racks the joints , this fires the veins , That every labouring sinew strains , 3 And Madness laughing in his ireful mood . Dryden's Fable of Palamon and Arcite . Those in ...
... painful family of Death , More hideous than their Queen : This racks the joints , this fires the veins , That every labouring sinew strains , 3 And Madness laughing in his ireful mood . Dryden's Fable of Palamon and Arcite . Those in ...
Side 32
... pain , The ' unfeeling for his own . Yet , ah ! why should they know their fate , Since sorrow never comes too late , And happiness too swiftly flies ? Thought would destroy their paradise . No more ; -where ignorance is bliss , ' Tis ...
... pain , The ' unfeeling for his own . Yet , ah ! why should they know their fate , Since sorrow never comes too late , And happiness too swiftly flies ? Thought would destroy their paradise . No more ; -where ignorance is bliss , ' Tis ...
Side 36
... Pain , Disease , and Sorrow's weeping train , And Death , sad refuge from the storms of Fate ! The fond complaint , my song , disprove , And justify the laws of Jove . Say , has he given in vain the heavenly Muse ? Night and all her ...
... Pain , Disease , and Sorrow's weeping train , And Death , sad refuge from the storms of Fate ! The fond complaint , my song , disprove , And justify the laws of Jove . Say , has he given in vain the heavenly Muse ? Night and all her ...
Andre utgaver - Vis alle
Vanlige uttrykk og setninger
Alike ancient atque Bard beauteous beauty beneath bliss boast breast breath charms cheerful climes death deeds delight distant E'en Earl Earl of Warwick earth Edge Hill fair fame fate fields flood flowers form'd genius gentle glittering grace Gray Gray's groves hæc hail hand hath heart honour Jago join'd Julius Cæsar King labour Latian lawns lofty Lord LYCIDAS Margaret of Anjou meads mind Muse native Nature's numbers o'er ODIN Petrarch Pindar plain pleasing poem pomp pride quæ race rage reign RICHARD JAGO rise round scene seat of Sir sense shade Shenstone sight Sir Charles Mordaunt smiling Snitterfield Solihull song soul sportive sprightly stanza stream swain sweet taste thee thine THOMAS GRAY thou thought toil train vale verdant verse walls Warwick Warwickshire wave William Shenstone winding wondrous youth
Populære avsnitt
Side 69 - 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 37 - To cheer the shivering native's dull abode. And oft, beneath the odorous shade Of Chili's boundless forests laid, She deigns to hear the savage youth repeat In loose numbers wildly sweet Their feather-cinctured chiefs, and dusky loves. Her track, where'er the goddess roves, Glory pursue, and generous Shame, Th' unconquerable Mind, and Freedom's holy flame.
Side 85 - In vain to me the smiling mornings shine, And reddening Phoebus lifts his golden fire : The birds in vain their amorous descant join, Or cheerful fields resume their green attire. These ears, alas ! for other notes repine ; A different object do these eyes require ; My lonely anguish melts no heart but mine ; And in my breast the imperfect joys expire...
Side 44 - Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows, While proudly riding o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes ; Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm ; Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening prey.
Side 44 - Fill high the sparkling bowl. The rich repast prepare ; Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast : Close by the regal chair Fell Thirst and Famine scowl A baleful smile upon their baffled guest.
Side 31 - These shall the fury Passions tear, The vultures of the mind, Disdainful Anger, pallid Fear, And Shame that skulks behind ; Or pining Love shall waste their youth, Or Jealousy with rankling tooth That inly gnaws the secret heart, And Envy wan, and faded Care, Grim-visaged comfortless Despair, And Sorrow's piercing dart.
Side 77 - See the wretch, that long has tost On the thorny bed of pain, At length repair his vigour lost, And breathe and walk again : The meanest floweret of the vale, The simplest note that swells the gale, The common sun, the air, the skies, To him are opening paradise.
Side 38 - To him the mighty mother did unveil Her awful face : the dauntless child Stretch'd forth his little arms and smiled. ' This pencil take (she said), whose colours clear Richly paint the vernal year : Thine too these golden keys, immortal Boy! This can unlock the gates of joy l Of horror that, and thrilling fears, Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic tears.
Side 27 - But flutter through life's little day, In Fortune's varying colours drest, Brush'd by the hand of rough mischance, Or chill'd by age, their airy dance They leave, in dust to rest. Methinks I hear in accents low The sportive, kind reply : Poor moralist ! and what art thou ? A solitary fly ! Thy joys no glittering female meets, No hive hast thou of hoarded sweets, No painted plumage to display : On hasty wings thy youth is flown ; Thy sun is set, thy spring is gone — We frolic, while 'tis May.
Side 72 - Muse, The place of fame and elegy supply ; And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die.