The poetical works of ... George Crabbe, with his letters and journals, and his life, by his son [G. Crabbe]., Volume 81839 |
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The Poetical Works of ... George Crabbe, with His Letters and Journals, and ... George Crabbe No preview available - 2016 |
The Poetical Works of ... George Crabbe, with His Letters and Journals, and ... George Crabbe No preview available - 2016 |
Common terms and phrases
admire afraid ALBEMARLE STREET answer'd appear'd ask'd behold call'd Captain Elliot dare dear Dear Doctor delight doubt Dyson fair Fair ladies Family of Love fancy Farewell and Return fate father fear feel felt fix'd fond fortune friendly pair gave gentle GEORGE CRABBE grief happy hear heard heart honour hope James Joe Tompkin jointure kind knew labour Lady lassie live look look'd lovers maid mind never nymph o'er ocean rain pain pass'd Patty peace Peter Phœbe pity pleasure poor praise pray pride replied rest return'd rich seem'd shame show'd sigh sigh'd Silford Hall smile sorrow sought speak spirit spleen strong TALE talk'd taught tell thee things thou thought told truth turn'd Uncle vex'd wealth wicked wisdom wife wish'd wonder wondering Boy words young youth
Popular passages
Page 25 - And in at the windows, and in at the door, And through the walls, by thousands they pour, And down from the ceiling, and up through the floor, From the right and the left, from behind and before, From within and without, from above and below, And all at once to the bishop they go.
Page 25 - They have whetted their teeth against the stones, And now they pick the Bishop's bones; They gnawed the flesh from every limb, For they were sent to do judgment on him!
Page 164 - They've cut the brook a straighter bed : No shades the present lords allow, The miller only murmurs now ; The waters now his mill forsake, And form a pond they call a lake.
Page 218 - Flesh he devour'd, but not a bit would stay ; He bark'd, and snarl'd, and growl'd it all away. His ribs were seen extended like a rack, And coarse red hair hung roughly o'er his back. Lamed in one leg, and bruised in wars of yore, Now his sore body made his temper sore. Such was the friend of him who could not find Nor make him one 'mong creatures of his kind. Brave deeds of Fang his master often told, The son of Fury, famed in...
Page 124 - THE whistling boy that holds the plough, Lured by the tale that soldiers tell, Resolves to part, yet knows not how To- leave the land he loves so well: He now rejects the thought, and now Looks o'er the lea, and sighs " Farewell !" " Farewell !" the pensive maiden cries, Who dreams of London, — dreams awake, But, when her favourite lad she spies, With whom she loved her way to take. Then doubts within her soul arise, And equal hopes her bosom shake ! Thus, like the boy, and like the maid, I wish...
Page 49 - Sorrows like showers descend, and as the heart For them prepares, they good or ill impart ; Some on the mind, as on the ocean rain, Fall and disturb, but soon are lost again ; Some, as to fertile lands, a boon bestow, And [seeds], that else had perish'd, live and grow ; Some fall on barren soil, and thence proceed The idle blossom, and the useless weed.
Page 164 - I — but sighs are vain ; It is the rage of Taste — the rule and compass reign. As thus my spleen upon the view I fed, A man approach'd me, by his grandchild led — A blind old man, and she a fair young maid, Listening in love to what her grandsire said.
Page 43 - Who for their parents' sins, or for their own, Are now as vagrants, wanderers, beggars known, Hunted and hunting through the world, to share Alms and contempt, and shame and scorn to beai -. Whom Law condemns, and Justice, with a sigh, Pursuing, shakes her sword and passes by.
Page 162 - Proclaims to man that Death is but his sport. And then the wintry winds begin to blow, Then fall the flaky stars of gathering snow, When on the thorn the ripening sloe, yet blue, Takes the bright varnish of the morning dew ; The aged moss grows brittle on the pale, The dry...
Page 162 - And then the wintry winds begin to blow, Then fall the flaky stars of gathering snow. When on the thorn, the ripening sloe, yet blue, Takes the bright varnish of the morning dew ; The aged moss grows brittle on the pale, The dry boughs splinter in the windy gale...