The Poetical Works of Mr. William Collins: With a Prefatory Essay

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T. Cadell, Jun. and W. Davies, 1797 - 124 sider
 

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Side 47 - fod, Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By Fairy hands their knell is rung, By forms unfeen their dirge is fung : There Honour comes, a pilgrim grey, To blefs the turf that wraps their clay, And Freedom fliall a-while repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there
Side 84 - And longer had fhe fung.—but, with a frown, Revenge impatient rofe, He threw his blood-ftain'd fword in thunder down, And, with a withering look, The war-denouncing trumpet took, And blew a blaft fo loud and dread, Were ne'er prophetic founds fo full of woe. • And ever and anon he beat The doubling drum with furious heat; And tho
Side 84 - took, And blew a blaft fo loud and dread, Were ne'er prophetic founds fo full of woe. • And ever and anon he beat The doubling drum with furious heat; And tho' fometimes, each dreary paufe between,
Side 13 - direfts their way, Fills the wild yell, and leads them to their prey. " Sad was the hour, and lucklefs was the day, " When firft from Schiraz' walls I bent my way!" At that dead hour the filent afp (hall creep, If aught of reft I find, upon my fleep : Or fome fwoln
Side 83 - prolong, And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, She call'd on Echo ftill thro' all the fong; And where her fweeteft theme (he chofe, A foft refponfive voice was heard at every clofe, And Hope enchanted fmil'd. and wav'd her golden hair.
Side 34 - with partial choice, The grief-full Mufe addreft her infant tongue The maids and matrons, on her awful voice, Silent and pale, in wild amazement hung. Yet he, the Bard • who firft invok'd thy name. Difdain'd in Marathon its power to feel: For not alone he nurs'd the poet's flame, But reach'd from Virtue's hand the patriot's
Side 52 - mifguided power, E'er draw thy fad, thy mindful tears. No, Freedom, no, I will not tell, How Rome, before thy weeping face, With heavieft found, a giant-ftatue, fell, Pufh'd by a wild and artlefs race, From off its wide ambitious bafe, When Time his northern fons of fpoil awoke, And all the blended work of ftrength and
Side 21 - their flight, behind them lay Wild ravag'd plains, and vallies ftole away. Along the mountain's bending fides they ran, 'Till faint and weak Secander thus began: SECANDER. O flay thee, Agib, for my feet deny, No longer friendly to my life, to fly. Friend of my heart, O turn thee and furvey, Trace our
Side 94 - growth the weftern ifle could bear, At once exhaufted with too rich a year. Too nicely Jonfon knew the critic's part; Nature in him was almoft loft in art. Of fofter mold the gentle Fletcher came, The next in order, as the next in name. With pleas'd attention "midft his
Side 88 - chafte, fublime ! Thy wonders, in that god-like age, Fill thy recording Sifter's page— 'Tis faid, and I believe the tale, Thy humbleft reed could more prevail, Had more of ftrength, diviner rage, Than all which charms this laggard age, Even all at once together found Caecilia's mingled world of found— O bid our vain endeavours

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