The British poetical miscellanySikes & Company, 1805 |
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الصفحة
... my Mafter chance to wander nigh , " Befide the spot where Peter's bones repofe , " Let your poor fervant claim one little figh ; " Grant this - and bless'd these for ever close . " Yes , thou poor Spirit ! yes , thy with [ 4 ]
... my Mafter chance to wander nigh , " Befide the spot where Peter's bones repofe , " Let your poor fervant claim one little figh ; " Grant this - and bless'd these for ever close . " Yes , thou poor Spirit ! yes , thy with [ 4 ]
الصفحة
British poetical miscellany. Yes , thou poor Spirit ! yes , thy with is mine ... Yes , be thy grave beneath the willow's gloom- There fhall the fod , the greeneft fod , be thine ; And there the brightest flow'r of spring fhall bloom ...
British poetical miscellany. Yes , thou poor Spirit ! yes , thy with is mine ... Yes , be thy grave beneath the willow's gloom- There fhall the fod , the greeneft fod , be thine ; And there the brightest flow'r of spring fhall bloom ...
الصفحة
... no zeal , No gen'rous ardour for the public weal ; Purfue thy way , nor vainly loiter here ; Thy tearlefs eye profanes the patriot's bier . bus , t Suidw THE BRITISH POETICAL MISCELLANY . SPIRIT THE GRAVE OF HOWARD. [ 8 ]
... no zeal , No gen'rous ardour for the public weal ; Purfue thy way , nor vainly loiter here ; Thy tearlefs eye profanes the patriot's bier . bus , t Suidw THE BRITISH POETICAL MISCELLANY . SPIRIT THE GRAVE OF HOWARD. [ 8 ]
الصفحة 1
... Spirit ! behold thy victory - affume A form more terrible , an ampler plume ; For he who wander'd o'er the world alone , Lift'ning to Mis'ry's univerfal moan ; He who , fuftain'd by virtue's arm fublime , Tended the fick and poor from ...
... Spirit ! behold thy victory - affume A form more terrible , an ampler plume ; For he who wander'd o'er the world alone , Lift'ning to Mis'ry's univerfal moan ; He who , fuftain'd by virtue's arm fublime , Tended the fick and poor from ...
الصفحة 4
... spirit its incumbʼring clay , And longs to foar to happier realms away ? Does Heav'n , unjust , the fond defire instill , To add to mortal woes another ill ? Is there , through all the intellectual frame , No kindred mind that prompts ...
... spirit its incumbʼring clay , And longs to foar to happier realms away ? Does Heav'n , unjust , the fond defire instill , To add to mortal woes another ill ? Is there , through all the intellectual frame , No kindred mind that prompts ...
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anguiſh Bad Company behold beneath black crows bleffing bleft bofom breaſt breath BRITISH POETICAL MISCELLANY caft CHARLOTTE SMITH charms cloſe cold cry'd dear death defpair diftant doft dread dy'd E'en ev'ry eyes facred faid fair fate fcene fear feek feen fhade fhall fhore fhould fide figh filent fink fkies fleep flow'r fmile foft fome fong fons foon foothe forrow foul fpirits ftill ftranger ftream fuch fure fweet fwell grave grief hand hear heart Heav'n hour laft laſt life's loft lov'd maid morn mourn muft muſt ne'er o'er paffion pain peace PINDAR pity pleaſure poor pow'r reft rife rofe Sally Green ſcene ſhall ſhe ſkies ſky ſmile ſpot ſpread ſweet tear tender thee thefe theſe thine thofe thoſe thou toil tomb trembling Twas vale weeping whofe Whoſe wild wind wretched youth
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 4 - One morn I missed him on the customed hill, Along the heath and near his favourite tree; Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; 'The next with dirges due in sad array Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou can'st read) the lay, Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
الصفحة 4 - Here rests his head upon the lap of earth A youth, to fortune and to fame unknown: Fair science frown'd not on his humble birth, And melancholy mark'd him for her own. Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere...
الصفحة 1 - The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care; No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
الصفحة 2 - Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the Poor. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave Await alike th' inevitable hour : — The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
الصفحة 7 - How lov'd , how honour'd once , avails thee not, To whom related, or by whom begot; A heap of dust alone remains of thee, 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be!
الصفحة 1 - Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...
الصفحة 6 - What though no friends in sable weeds appear, Grieve for an hour, perhaps, then mourn a year, And bear about the mockery of woe To midnight dances, and the public show?
الصفحة 9 - Why did all-creating Nature Make the plant for which we toil ? Sighs must fan it, tears must water, Sweat of ours must dress the soil. Think, ye masters iron-hearted, Lolling at your jovial boards ; Think how many backs have smarted For the sweets your cane affords.