Specimens of the British poets, Volume 2W. Suttaby, 1809 - English poetry |
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Page 26
... rills , The dying gales that pant upon the trees , The lakes that quiver to the curling breeze ; No more these scenes my meditation aid , Or lull to rest the visionary maid : But o'er the twilight groves and dusky caves , Long ...
... rills , The dying gales that pant upon the trees , The lakes that quiver to the curling breeze ; No more these scenes my meditation aid , Or lull to rest the visionary maid : But o'er the twilight groves and dusky caves , Long ...
Page 64
... rills meander'd o'er- Enjoy them , you ! Villario can no more : Tir'd of the scene parterres and fountains yield , He finds at last he better likes a field . Thro ' his young woods how pleas'd Sabinusstray'd , Or sat delighted in the ...
... rills meander'd o'er- Enjoy them , you ! Villario can no more : Tir'd of the scene parterres and fountains yield , He finds at last he better likes a field . Thro ' his young woods how pleas'd Sabinusstray'd , Or sat delighted in the ...
Page 121
... rill a sweet instruction flows : But some , untaught , o'erhear the whispering rill , In spite of sacred leisure blockheads still : Nor shoots up Folly to a nobler bloom In her own native soil , the drawing room . The ' squire is proud ...
... rill a sweet instruction flows : But some , untaught , o'erhear the whispering rill , In spite of sacred leisure blockheads still : Nor shoots up Folly to a nobler bloom In her own native soil , the drawing room . The ' squire is proud ...
Page 128
... rills the lonely desert trace , And waste their music on the savage race . Is Nature then a niggard of her bliss ? Repine we guiltless in a world like this ? But our , lude tastes her lawful charms refuse , And painted Art's deprav'd ...
... rills the lonely desert trace , And waste their music on the savage race . Is Nature then a niggard of her bliss ? Repine we guiltless in a world like this ? But our , lude tastes her lawful charms refuse , And painted Art's deprav'd ...
Page 138
... bicker'd thro ' the sunny glade , Tho ' restless still themselves , a lulling murmur made . Join'd to the prattle of the purling rills Were heard ( 138 ) (GEORGE I and GEORGE II JAMES THOMSON 1700-1748 The Castle of Indolence 122.
... bicker'd thro ' the sunny glade , Tho ' restless still themselves , a lulling murmur made . Join'd to the prattle of the purling rills Were heard ( 138 ) (GEORGE I and GEORGE II JAMES THOMSON 1700-1748 The Castle of Indolence 122.
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Common terms and phrases
beauty behold beneath blest bliss bloom bosom breast breath bright charms cheerful dear death delight dread dreams dydd e'er ECLOGUE Eurydice Ev'n ev'ry eyes fair fame Fancy fate fear flowers fond gentle glow golden reign grace grief groves hand hear heart Heav'n hour JOHN HENRY MOORE lord lov'd lyre maid maze of Fate mind MONODY morn mournful Muse Nature's ne'er night numbers nymph o'er pain pale peace pensive Petrarch pity pleas'd pleasure pow'r praise pray'r pride proud rage raptures reign rills rise round sacred scene scorn shade shine sighs sing skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound sprite strain sweet sweet oblivion sylphs tear tender Thalestris thee thine thou thought thro toil trembling Twas vale virtue wave weep wild wind wings wretch wyfe wylle wythe ynne youth
Popular passages
Page 192 - A stranger yet to pain! I feel the gales that from ye blow A momentary bliss bestow, As waving fresh their gladsome wing My weary soul they seem to soothe, And, redolent of joy and youth, To breathe a second spring.
Page 325 - I forget the hallow'd grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met, To live one day of parting love? Eternity will not efface Those records dear of transports past; Thy image at our last embrace; Ah ! little thought we 'twas our last ! Ayr gurgling kiss'd his pebbled shore, O'erhung with wild woods, thick'ning green; The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar, Twined amorous round the raptured scene.
Page 239 - And thou, sweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid, Still first to fly where sensual joys invade ; Unfit in these degenerate times of shame To catch the heart, or strike for honest fame ; Dear charming nymph, neglected and decried, My shame in crowds, my solitary pride ; Thou source of all my bliss, and all my woe, That found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so...
Page 15 - Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows ; But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar: When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, The line too labours, and the words move slow : Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain, Flies o'er the unbending corn, and skims along the main. Hear how Timotheus...
Page 14 - In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold; Alike fantastic, if too new, or old: Be not the first by whom the new are tried, Nor yet the last to lay the old aside.
Page 189 - Await alike th' inevitable hour. The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault, If memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. Can storied urn, or animated bust, Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ? Can...
Page 239 - tis hard to combat, learns to fly! For him no wretches, born to work and weep, Explore the mine, or tempt the dangerous deep...
Page 188 - THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. 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...
Page 221 - Condemn'da needy supplicant to wait, While ladies interpose, and slaves debate. But did not Chance at length her error mend? Did no subverted empire mark his end? Did rival monarchs give the fatal wound? Or hostile millions press him to the ground? His fall was destin'd to a barren strand, A petty fortress, and a dubious hand; He left the name, at which the world grew pale, To point a moral, or adorn a tale.
Page 316 - My lov'd, my honour'd, much respected friend! No mercenary bard his homage pays; With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end, My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise: To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays, The lowly train in life's sequester'd scene, The native feelings strong, the guileless ways, What Aiken in a cottage would have been; Ah! tho' his worth unknown, far happier there I ween! November chill blaws loud wi...