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Poems. With a Biographical and Critical Introduction by the Rev ..., Zväzok 1
Úplné zobrazenie - 1841
Aspasio beauty beneath boast breath call'd cause charms death delight design'd distant divine divine simplicity dread dream e'en earth ease Edmonton fair fame fancy fear feel flowers folly form'd fruit Gilpin give glory grace grave hand happy heart Heaven honour hope human John Gilpin John Throckmorton labour learn'd less live lost lyre mar delights Mighty winds mind mounted best Nature Nature's Nebaioth never numbers o'er once peace perhaps Pertenhall pleasure praise prize proud prove rest scene scorn seek seem'd shade shine sight skies sleep sloth smile song soon soul sound spare stamp'd stout spurs sweet task taste thee theme thine thou art thou hast thought toil trembling truth Twas VINCENT BOURNE virtue waste Weston Underwood WILLIAM COWPER wind winter wisdom wisely store wonder worth youth
Strana 171 - I would not enter on my list of friends (Though graced with polished manners and fine sense Yet wanting sensibility) the man Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.
Strana 279 - Thy indistinct expressions seem Like language utter'd in a dream ; Yet me they charm, whate'er the theme, My Mary! Thy silver locks, once auburn bright, Are still more lovely in my sight Than golden beams of orient light, My Mary ! For, could I view nor them nor thee, What sight worth seeing could I see ? The sun would rise in vain for me, My Mary ! Partakers of thy sad decline, Thy hands their little force resign ; Yet gently prest, press gently mine, My Mary!
Strana 306 - For saddle-tree scarce reached had he, His journey to begin, When, turning round his head, he saw Three customers come in. So down he came; for loss of time, Although it grieved him sore, Yet loss of pence, full well he knew, Would trouble him much more. 'Twas long before the customers Were suited to their mind, When Betty screaming came downstairs, "The wine is left behind!" "Good lack!" quoth he — "yet bring it me, My leathern belt likewise, In which I bear my trusty sword, When I do exercise.
Strana 65 - My panting side was charged when I withdrew To seek a tranquil death in distant shades. ^ There was I found by one who had himself Been hurt by the archers. In his side he bore And in his hands and feet the cruel scars. With gentle force soliciting the darts He drew them forth, and healed and bade me live.
Strana 308 - The wind did blow, the cloak did fly, Like streamer long and gay, Till loop and button failing both At last it flew away. Then might all people well discern The bottles he had slung, A bottle swinging at each side As hath been said or sung. The dogs did bark, the children scream'd, Up flew the windows all, And every soul cried out, Well done ! As loud as he could bawl.
Strana 228 - My boast is not that I deduce my birth From loins enthroned, and rulers of the earth ; But higher far my proud pretensions rise — The son of parents passed into the skies.
Strana 91 - tis the twanging horn ! o'er yonder bridge, That with its wearisome but needful length Bestrides the wintry flood, in which the moon Sees her unwrinkled face reflected bright, He comes, the herald of a noisy world, With spatter'd boots, strapp'd waist, and frozen locks ; News from all nations lumbering at his back.
Strana 281 - Down went the Royal George With all her crew complete. Toll for the brave ! Brave Kempenfelt is gone; His last sea-fight is fought, His work of glory done. It was not in the battle; No tempest gave the shock; She sprang no fatal leak, She ran upon no rock. His sword was in its sheath, His fingers held the pen, When Kempenfelt went down With twice four hundred men.
Strana 313 - Stop thief! stop thief! — a highwayman! Not one of them was mute; And all and each that passed that way Did join in the pursuit. And now the turnpike gates again Flew open in short space; The toll-men thinking as before That Gilpin rode a race. And so he did, and won it too, For he got first to town ; Nor stopped till where he had got up He did again get down. Now let us sing, long live the king...
Strana 136 - Tis Liberty alone that gives the flower Of fleeting life its lustre and perfume, And we are weeds without it. All constraint, Except what wisdom lays on evil men, Is evil; hurts the faculties, impedes Their progress in the road of science; blinds The eyesight of Discovery; and begets, In those that suffer it, a sordid mind Bestial, a meagre intellect, unfit To be the tenant of man's noble form.