Roach's Beauties of the Modern Poets of Great Britain: Carefully Selected and Arranged ...J. Roach, 1794 |
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Side 4
... Still aiming at honour , yet fearing to roam , The coachman was tipfy , the chariot drove home ; Would you alk for his merits , alas ! he had none ; What was good was fpontaneous , his faults were his own . Here lies honeft Richard ...
... Still aiming at honour , yet fearing to roam , The coachman was tipfy , the chariot drove home ; Would you alk for his merits , alas ! he had none ; What was good was fpontaneous , his faults were his own . Here lies honeft Richard ...
Side 7
... Still born to improve us in every part , J His pencil our faces , his manners our heart : To coxcombs averfe , yet moft civilly fleering , When they judg'd without skill he was ftill hard of hearing : When they talk'd of their Raphaels ...
... Still born to improve us in every part , J His pencil our faces , his manners our heart : To coxcombs averfe , yet moft civilly fleering , When they judg'd without skill he was ftill hard of hearing : When they talk'd of their Raphaels ...
Side 36
... Still , * That thefe flowers are found in very great abundance in fome of the provinces of Perfia . fee the Modern Hiftory the ingenious Mr. Salmon . Still , with the thepherd's innocence , her mind To [ 36 ]
... Still , * That thefe flowers are found in very great abundance in fome of the provinces of Perfia . fee the Modern Hiftory the ingenious Mr. Salmon . Still , with the thepherd's innocence , her mind To [ 36 ]
Side 37
Carefully Selected and Arranged ... James Roach. Still , with the thepherd's innocence , her mind To the fweet vale and flow'ry mead inclin'd : And oft as Spring renew'd the plains with flow'rs , Breath'd his foft gales , and led the ...
Carefully Selected and Arranged ... James Roach. Still , with the thepherd's innocence , her mind To the fweet vale and flow'ry mead inclin'd : And oft as Spring renew'd the plains with flow'rs , Breath'd his foft gales , and led the ...
Side 39
... Still as I hafte , the Tartar fhouts behind , And fhrieks and forrows load the fadd'ning wind ; of heart , with ruin in his hand , In rage He blafts our harvefts , and deforms our land . Yon citron grove , whence firft in fear we came ...
... Still as I hafte , the Tartar fhouts behind , And fhrieks and forrows load the fadd'ning wind ; of heart , with ruin in his hand , In rage He blafts our harvefts , and deforms our land . Yon citron grove , whence firft in fear we came ...
Vanlige uttrykk og setninger
Beneath beſt blefs bleft blifs boaft bofom bow'r breaft bright charms Cyric death defart defire delight divine doth ECLOGUE EDWARD YOUNG erft eternal ev'ry eyes facred fafe fair fame fate fcene fear feas fecret feem feen felf fenfe fhade fhall fhame fhepherds fhine fhore fhould figh fight filent fing firft firſt fkies flain fleep flow'r fmile foft folemn fome fong forrow foul fpirit fprings frikes ftill ftream fuch fwain fweet Gonne grief grove heart heav'n himſelf juft kings lefs loft Lord lov'd Lycidas maid mind moft moſt Mufe muft muſt nymph o'er paffion pain peace pleaſe pleaſure pow'r praife praiſe purſue raiſe refign'd Refignation reft rife ſcenes ſhall ſhe ſkies ſky ſpread ſweet tears Theatre Royal thee thefe theſe thine thofe thoſe thou thought thouſand thro Twill whilft whofe whoſe WILLIAM SHENSTONE wyllowe
Populære avsnitt
Side 40 - Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear, Compels me to disturb your season due : For Lycidas* is dead, dead ere his prime, Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer : Who would not sing for Lycidas ? He knew Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme.
Side 57 - Ten thousand thousand precious gifts My daily thanks employ ; Nor is the least a cheerful heart, That tastes those gifts with joy.
Side 3 - Though equal to all things, for all things unfit ; Too nice for a statesman, too proud for a wit, For a patriot too cool, for a drudge disobedient, And too fond of the right to pursue the expedient. In short 'twas his fate, unemploy'd, or in place, sir, To eat mutton cold, and cut blocks with a razor.
Side 42 - Clos'd o'er the head of your lov'd Lycidas? For neither were ye playing on the steep, Where your old Bards, the famous Druids, lie, Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high, Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream: Ay me!
Side 6 - Of praise a mere glutton, he swallow'd what came, And the puff of a dunce he mistook it for fame; Till his relish grown callous, almost to disease, Who pepper'd the highest was surest to please. But let us be candid, and speak out our mind, If dunces applauded, he paid them in kind. Ye Kenricks, ye Kellys, and Woodfalls so grave, What a commerce was yours while you got and you gave!
Side 7 - Here Reynolds is laid, and to tell you my mind, He has not left a wiser or better behind ; His pencil was striking, resistless, and grand ; His manners were gentle, complying, and bland : Still born to improve us in every part, His pencil our faces, his manners our heart...
Side 54 - ... shade. In winter fire. Blest, who can unconcern'dly find Hours, days, and years slide soft away. In health of body, peace of mind, Quiet by day. Sound sleep by night; study and ease, Together mixt; sweet recreation: And innocence, which most does please With meditation.
Side 55 - Tempe's vale, her native maids, Amidst the festal sounding shades, To some unwearied minstrel dancing ; While, as his flying fingers kiss'd the strings, Love framed with Mirth a gay fantastic round : Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound; And he, amidst his frolic play, As if he would the charming air repay, Shook thousand odours from his dewy wings.
Side 3 - Were these their crimes! they were his own much more; But wealth is crime enough to him that's poor, Who having spent the treasures of his crown, Condemns their luxury to feed his own ; And yet this act, to varnish o'er the shame Of sacrilege, must bear Devotion's name. No crime so bold but would be understood A real, or at least, a seeming good.
Side 41 - For we were nursed upon the self-same hill, Fed the same flock by fountain, shade, and rill. Together both, ere the high lawns appear'd Under the opening eye-lids of the morn, We drove a-field, and both together heard What time the gray-fly winds her sultry horn...