The British poetical miscellanySikes & Company, 1805 |
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الصفحة 3
... upon the upland lawn . " There , at the foot of yonder nodding beech , " That wreathes its old fantastic root fo high , " His liftlefs length at noontide would he ftretch , " And pore upon the brook that babbles by . 66 " Hard by yon ...
... upon the upland lawn . " There , at the foot of yonder nodding beech , " That wreathes its old fantastic root fo high , " His liftlefs length at noontide would he ftretch , " And pore upon the brook that babbles by . 66 " Hard by yon ...
طبعات أخرى - عرض جميع المقتطفات
عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
arms beneath bleffing bofom breaſt breath bright bring BRITISH POETICAL MISCELLANY charms child cold dead dear death deep delight dread E'en ev'ry eyes face fair fame fate fear feel fhade fhall fhould figh filent fire flow flow'r fmile fome foon forrow foul ftill fuch fweet give grave grief hand head hear heard heart Heav'n hope hour kind laft land light live loft look maid mind morn mourn native nature never night o'er once paffion pain peace pity poor pow'r pride rife round tear tell tender thee theſe thine thoſe thou thought toil trembling turn Twas vale virtue voice wave weeping whofe whoſe wife wild wind young youth
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 11 - 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 1 - 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 11 - 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 8 - 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.
معلومات المراجع
| العنوان | The British poetical miscellany |
| المؤلف | British poetical miscellany |
| الناشر | Sikes & Company, 1805 |
| أصلي من | جامعة أوكسفورد |
| الكتب ذات التنسيق الرقمي | 26 أيلول (سبتمبر) 2006 |
| تصدير الاقتباس | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |