The Beauties of English Poetry, المجلد 1C. Spilsbury, 1804 |
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الصفحة 10
... Fair Virtue's silent train : supreme of these , Here ever shines the godlike SOCRATES ; He whom ungrateful Athens could expel , At all times just , but when he sign'd the shell : Here his abode the martyr'd PHOCION claims , With AGIS ...
... Fair Virtue's silent train : supreme of these , Here ever shines the godlike SOCRATES ; He whom ungrateful Athens could expel , At all times just , but when he sign'd the shell : Here his abode the martyr'd PHOCION claims , With AGIS ...
الصفحة 22
... fair : In fact , ' t is true , no nymph we could persuade , But still in fancy vanquish'd ev'ry maid ; Of unknown Duchesses lewd tales we tell ; Yet , would the world believe us , all were well . The joy let others have , and we the ...
... fair : In fact , ' t is true , no nymph we could persuade , But still in fancy vanquish'd ev'ry maid ; Of unknown Duchesses lewd tales we tell ; Yet , would the world believe us , all were well . The joy let others have , and we the ...
الصفحة 24
... fair , Its site uncertain , if in earth or air : With rapid motion turn'd the mansion round ; With ceaseless noise the ringing walls resound ; Not less in number were the spacious doors Than leaves on trees , or sands upon the shores ...
... fair , Its site uncertain , if in earth or air : With rapid motion turn'd the mansion round ; With ceaseless noise the ringing walls resound ; Not less in number were the spacious doors Than leaves on trees , or sands upon the shores ...
الصفحة 34
... fair , And train them for the skies . While they our wisest hours engage , They'll joy our youth , support our age , And crown our hoary hairs : They'll grow in virtue ev'ry day , And thus our fondest loves repay , And recompense our ...
... fair , And train them for the skies . While they our wisest hours engage , They'll joy our youth , support our age , And crown our hoary hairs : They'll grow in virtue ev'ry day , And thus our fondest loves repay , And recompense our ...
الصفحة 40
... Fair . Dead to the world - her fondest wishes crost- She mourns herself thus early lost.— Now , sadly gay , of sorrows past she sings , Now , pensive , ruminates unutterable things . She starts she flies - who dares so rude - On her ...
... Fair . Dead to the world - her fondest wishes crost- She mourns herself thus early lost.— Now , sadly gay , of sorrows past she sings , Now , pensive , ruminates unutterable things . She starts she flies - who dares so rude - On her ...
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appear'd arms bards beauty behold blush boast bosom bow'r breast breath bring charms clouds cries crown'd Dæmons dear delight drest DRYAD EDWIN ELEGY ENGLISH POETRY ev'ry eyes fair FAIR-ONE fairies fame fate fav'rite fire flame fond gentle glowing Goddess gold golden grace grief grove HAFEZ haste hath hear heart Heav'n heave honour immortal Israel John Walker JULIA light loud lover MADRIGAL maid MIRTH mourn Muse ne'er night Nymph o'er OBERON ORPHEUS pale passion PETRARCH PINCHBECK PINDAR pity plain Pleas'd pleasure pow'r praise rais'd RICHARD JAGO rill rise roof scene seem'd shade shone shrine sigh sight sing Sir TOPAZ skies smile song sorrows soul sound spectres stream stretch'd swains sweet tale tears tempest THEBES thee thine thou thousand thro throne thunder tow'ring train vale ween wild wind wing wish WOLCOT youth ZEPHYR
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الصفحة 53 - With store of ladies, whose bright eyes Rain influence and judge the prize Of wit or arms, while both contend To win her grace whom all commend. There let Hymen oft appear In saffron robe, with taper clear, And pomp and feast and revelry, With mask and antique pageantry, Such sights as youthful poets dream On summer eves by haunted stream.
الصفحة 60 - Pelops' line, Or the tale of Troy divine, Or what (though rare) of later age Ennobled hath the buskined stage. But, O sad virgin, that thy power Might raise Musaeus from his bower! Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing Such notes as, warbled to the string, Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek, And made Hell grant what Love did seek!
الصفحة 58 - Less Philomel will deign a song, In her sweetest, saddest plight. Smoothing the rugged brow of night, While Cynthia checks her dragon yoke, Gently o'er the accustomed oak; Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly, Most musical, most melancholy!
الصفحة 60 - Canace to wife That owned the virtuous ring and glass, And of the wondrous horse of brass On which the Tartar King did ride; And if aught else great Bards beside In sage and solemn tunes have sung Of turneys, and of trophies hung, Of forests, and enchantments drear, Where more is meant than meets the ear.
الصفحة 48 - Hence, loathed Melancholy, Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born In Stygian cave forlorn 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy ! Find out some uncouth cell, Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings...
الصفحة 53 - When in one night, ere glimpse of morn, His shadowy flail hath threshed the corn That ten day-labourers could not end; Then lies him down, the lubber fiend, And, stretched out all the chimney's length, Basks at the fire his hairy strength; And crop-full out of doors he flings, Ere the first cock his matin rings.
الصفحة 58 - Far from all resort of mirth, Save the cricket on the hearth, Or the bellman's drowsy charm To bless the doors from nightly harm.
الصفحة 56 - But hail, thou goddess sage and holy, Hail, divinest Melancholy! Whose saintly visage is too bright To hit the sense of human sight, And therefore to our weaker view...
الصفحة 99 - She next the stately Bull implored ; And thus replied the mighty lord: "Since every beast alive can tell That I sincerely wish you well ; I may, without offence, pretend To take the freedom of a friend. Love calls me hence ; a favourite cow Expects me near yon barley-mow; And when a lady's in the case, You know all other things give place. To leave you thus might seem unkind, But see, the Goat is just behind.
الصفحة 21 - And live there men who slight immortal fame ? Who then with incense shall adore our name ? But, mortals ! know, 'tis still our greatest pride To blaze those virtues which the good would hide. Rise ! Muses, rise ! add all your tuneful breath ; These must not sleep in darkness and in death.