A collection of poems, by several hands [ed. by R. Dodsley]. [2 other copies of vols. 5,6].1766 |
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bard beauty behold beneath beſtow bleffings bleft boaſt breaſt charms Chlorinda cloſe courſe eaſe Ev'n facred fafe fage fair fame fate fcene feat fenfe fhade fhall fhew fhine fhun figh fight filent fince firſt flow'rs fmiles foft folar folemn fome fong fons foul freſh friendſhip ftands ftate ftill ftream fuch fure fweet genius glory goddeſs grace grove hand heart heav'n himſelf inſpire Juft laft laſt Latian lefs loft lyre mind moſt Mufe muft muſt Naiads ne'er numbers Nymphs o'er paffion pain peace plain pleas'd pleaſe pleaſure pow'r praiſe purſue raiſe reaſon reft rife ſcene ſhade ſhall ſhare ſhe ſhould ſkill ſky ſome ſpeak ſpirit ſpread ſpring ſtate ſteps ſtill ſtrain ſweet taſk taſte thee thefe theſe thofe thoſe thou thouſand toil vale virtue Whilft whofe whoſe wife wings wiſdom youth
Popular passages
Page 321 - Labour and penury, the racks of pain, Disease, and sorrow's weeping train, And death, sad refuge from the storms of fate ! The fond complaint, my song, disprove, And justify the laws of Jove. Say, has he given in vain the heavenly Muse ? Night, and all her sickly dews, Her spectres wan, and birds of boding cry, He gives to range the dreary sky ; Till down the eastern cliffs afar Hyperion's march they spy, and glittering shafts of war.
Page 322 - This pencil take' (she said), 'whose colours clear Richly paint the vernal year: Thine, too, these golden keys, immortal Boy! This can unlock the gates of joy; Of horror that...
Page 325 - To arms ! cried Mortimer, and couch'd his quiv'ring lance. On a rock, whose haughty brow Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, Robed in the sable garb of woe, With haggard eyes the Poet stood ; (Loose his beard, and hoary hair Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air) And with a Master's hand, and Prophet's fire, Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.
Page 327 - Fair laughs the Morn, and soft the zephyr blows, While proudly riding o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes: Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm: Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, That hush'd in grim repose expects his evening prey.
Page 320 - Perching on the sceptred hand Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feather'd king With ruffled plumes, and flagging wing : Quench'd in dark clouds of slumber lie The terror of his beak, and lightnings of his eye.
Page 322 - This pencil take (she said) whose colours clear Richly paint the vernal year : Thine, too, these golden keys, immortal Boy ! This can unlock the gates of Joy ; Of Horror that, and thrilling Fears, Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic Tears.
Page 266 - Moved by his love, by his example taught, Soon shall thy soul, once more with virtue fraught, With kind and generous truth thy bosom warm, And thy fair mind, like thy fair person, charm. To virtue thus and to thyself restored, By all admired, by one alone adored, Be to thy Harry ever kind and true, And live for him who more than dies for you.
Page 326 - Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart, Ye died amidst your dying country's cries, — No more I weep ; they do not sleep ; On yonder cliffs, a grisly band, I see them sit ; they linger yet, Avengers of their native land : With me in dreadful harmony they join, And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line.
Page 13 - With slacken'd wings, While now the solemn concert breathes around, Incumbent o'er the sceptre of his lord Sleeps the stern eagle ; by the number'd notes, Possess'd ; and satiate with the melting tone : Sovereign of birds ! The furious god of war, His darts forgetting, and the winged wheels That bear him vengeful o'er the" embattled plain, Relents, and soothes his own fierce heart to ease, Most welcome ease.
Page 326 - Give ample room, and verge enough The characters of hell to trace. Mark the year, and mark the night, When Severn shall re-echo with affright The shrieks of death, through Berkley's roof that ring...