A collection of poems, by several hands [ed. by R. Dodsley].1758 |
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Side 2
... happy effects of mineral , medicinal Springs . Laftly , they are celebrated for the friendship which the Mufes bear them , and for the true infpiration which temperance only can receive ; in oppofition to the enthufiafm of the more ...
... happy effects of mineral , medicinal Springs . Laftly , they are celebrated for the friendship which the Mufes bear them , and for the true infpiration which temperance only can receive ; in oppofition to the enthufiafm of the more ...
Side 7
... happy gifts Extremeft ifles to bless . and oft at morn , When Hermes , from Olympus bent o'er earth To bear the words of Jove , on yonder hill Stoops lightly - failing ; oft intent your springs He views and waving o'er fome new - born ...
... happy gifts Extremeft ifles to bless . and oft at morn , When Hermes , from Olympus bent o'er earth To bear the words of Jove , on yonder hill Stoops lightly - failing ; oft intent your springs He views and waving o'er fome new - born ...
Side 17
... happy fpirits dwell , Where yet he tunes his charming shell , Oft near him , with applauding hands , The genius of his country stands . To liftening gods he makes him known , That man divine , by whom were fown The feeds of Græcian fame ...
... happy fpirits dwell , Where yet he tunes his charming shell , Oft near him , with applauding hands , The genius of his country stands . To liftening gods he makes him known , That man divine , by whom were fown The feeds of Græcian fame ...
Side 23
... happy fwains , Which now refound Where Scarfdale's cliffs the fwelling pastures bound , Bear witness . there , oft let the farmer hail The facred orchard which imbowers his gate , And fhew to strangers paffing down the vale , Where ...
... happy fwains , Which now refound Where Scarfdale's cliffs the fwelling pastures bound , Bear witness . there , oft let the farmer hail The facred orchard which imbowers his gate , And fhew to strangers paffing down the vale , Where ...
Side 47
... happy is the Self - approv❜d . EL EGY To the Right Honourable III . George Simon Harcourt , Vifc . Newnham . Y Written at ROME . 1756 . E S , noble Youth , ' tis true ; the softer arts , The fweetly - founding ftring , and pencil's ...
... happy is the Self - approv❜d . EL EGY To the Right Honourable III . George Simon Harcourt , Vifc . Newnham . Y Written at ROME . 1756 . E S , noble Youth , ' tis true ; the softer arts , The fweetly - founding ftring , and pencil's ...
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A collection of poems, by several hands [ed. by R. Dodsley]. [2 other copies ... Collection Uten tilgangsbegrensning - 1766 |
A collection of poems, by several hands [ed. by R. Dodsley]. [2 other copies ... Collection Uten tilgangsbegrensning - 1765 |
Vanlige uttrykk og setninger
bard beauty behold beneath bleffings bleft blifs boaſt bofom breaſt charms chearful Chlorinda cloſe cou'd courſe eaſe Ev'n ev'ry facred fafe fage fair fame fate fcene feat fenfe fhade fhall fhew fhou'd fhun figh filent fince firft firſt flow'rs fmile foft folar folemn fome fong fons foul freſh ftands ftate ftill ftream fuch fure fweet genius glory grace grove hand heart heav'n laſt Latian lefs loft lyre mind moſt Mufe muft Muſe muſt Naiads ne'er numbers Nymphs o'er paffion peace plain pleas'd pleaſe pleaſure pow'r praiſe purſue raiſe reafon reft rife ſcene ſhade ſhall ſhape ſhare ſhe ſhould ſky ſmile ſpeak ſpirit ſpread ſprings ſtate ſteps ſtill ſtrains ſweet taſk taſte thee thefe theſe thofe thoſe thou thouſand thro toil vale virtue Whilft whofe whoſe wife wings wiſh worfe wou'd youth
Populære avsnitt
Side 321 - On a rock, whose haughty brow Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, Robed in the sable garb of woe, With haggard eyes the Poet stood ; Loose his beard, and hoary hair Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air And, with a Master's hand, and Prophet's fire, Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.
Side 322 - Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart, Ye died amidst your dying country's cries — No more I weep. They do not sleep. On yonder cliffs, a grisly band, I see them sit, they linger yet, Avengers of their native land : With me in dreadful harmony they join, And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line.
Side 317 - Aeolian lyre, awake, And give to rapture all thy trembling strings. From Helicon's harmonious springs A thousand rills their mazy progress take: The laughing flowers, that round them blow, Drink life and fragrance as they flow. Now the rich stream of music winds along, Deep, majestic, smooth, and strong, Through verdant vales and Ceres...
Side 318 - Perching on the sceptred hand Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feather'd king With ruffled plumes, and flagging wing : Quench'd in dark clouds of slumber lie The terror of his beak, and lightnings of his eye.
Side 28 - The language of our fathers. Here he dwelt For many a cheerful day. These ancient walls Have often heard him, while his legends blithe He sang; of love, or knighthood, or the wiles Of homely life; through each estate and age, The fashions and the follies of the world With cunning hand portraying.
Side 321 - And with a Master's hand, and Prophet's fire, Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre. 'Hark, how each giant-oak, and desert cave, Sighs to the torrent's aweful voice beneath ! O'er thee, oh King ! their hundred arms they wave,. Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe ; Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day, To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.
Side 319 - Muse? Night and all her sickly dews, Her Spectres wan, and Birds of boding cry, He gives to range the dreary sky; Till down the eastern cliffs afar Hyperion's march they spy, and glitt'ring shafts of war.
Side 323 - 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 27 - Actaea, daughter of the neighbouring stream, . This cave belongs. The fig-tree and the vine, Which o'er the rocky entrance downward shoot, Were placed by Glycon.
Side 325 - Fond impious man, think'st thou yon sanguine cloud Raised by thy breath, has quench'd the orb of day? To-morrow he repairs the golden flood And warms the nations with redoubled ray. Enough for me : with joy I see The different doom our fates assign : Be thine Despair and sceptred Care, To triumph and to die are mine.