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The Poetical Works of Collins, Gray, and Beattie: With a Memoir of Each
Uten tilgangsbegrensning - 1851
appear arms bear beauty beneath bloom borne bosom breast breathe bring charms clouds Daphnis dare dark death deep delight divine dread earth fair fame Fancy fate fear fields fire flowers gale glory glow grace Gray green grove hand happy head hear heard heart Heaven hills hope hour Italy kind land laws leave light live lonely maid mind morn mountains mourn Muse Nature never night o'er once pain peace plain pleasure praise pride rage rest rise rocks roll round sacred scene shade shepherds sing skies smile soft song soothe soul sound spring storm strain stream sublime swain sweet tear thee thine thou thought truth vain vale verse virtue voice warm waste wave wild winds wing youth
Side 110 - 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 82 - The Summer Friend, the flatt'ring Foe, By vain Prosperity receiv'd, To her they vow their truth, and are again believ'd. . Wisdom, in sable garb array'd Immers'd in rapturous thought profound, And Melancholy, silent maid, With leaden eye, that loves the ground, Still on thy solemn steps attend : Warm Charity, the general friend ; With Justice, to herself severe ; And Pity, dropping soft the sadly pleasing tear.
Side 78 - A stranger yet to pain ? I feel the gales that from ye blow A momentary bliss bestow, As waving fresh their gladsome wing My weary soul they seem to soothe, And, redolent of joy and youth, To breathe a second spring.
Side 78 - Say, Father Thames, for thou hast seen Full many a sprightly race Disporting on thy margent green The paths of pleasure trace ; Who foremost now delight to cleave, With pliant arm, thy glassy wave...
Side 108 - Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire ; Hands...
Side 93 - He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height Deep in the roaring tide he plunged to endless night.
Side 108 - Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke: How jocund did they drive their team afield! How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!
Side 109 - Their lot forbade : nor circumscribed alone Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined ; Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind...