Elegiac Sonnets,T. Cadell, in the Strand., 1789 - 83 strán (strany) |
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amaranth anguiſh ariſe ARUN Bart beauteous blaſt bleft bofom breaſt CHARLOTTE SMITH charms clouds Countess deep defpair drefs embodied waters eyes facred fade fair Fancy fate feek feem fhade fhall fhell fighs filent fing fires of heaven fleeping flowers flumbers fome fond fong foothe forrow foul ftill ftorm fuch fure fweet fwell golden reign happineſs happy flower hear heart Heaven hope hopeleſs John Lady lingering loft Lord lyre Mifs mournful Mufe NAIAD nymph o'er Otway paft pain pale penfive Petrarch Pity's pleaſure poet's praiſe reafon reſt rife RIVER ARUN rofe ſcene ſhades ſhall ſhe ſhore ſmile SONNET LINE Sonnetto Sorrows of Werter ſpirit ſpot ſtill ſtorm ſtream ſweet tears thee thefe theſe thine Thomas Raikes thorns thoſe thou Thro thy foft tomb vifions waves whofe Whoſe wild William WILLIAM HAYLEY wind wither'd woes woods
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Strana 3 - QUEEN of the silver bow ! — by thy pale beam, Alone and pensive, I delight to stray, And watch thy shadow trembling in the stream, Or mark the floating clouds that cross thy way. And while I gaze, thy mild and placid light Sheds a soft calm upon my troubled breast; And oft I think — fair planet of the night, That in thy orb, the wretched may have rest: The sufferers of the earth perhaps may go, Released by death — to thy benignant sphere, And the sad children of despair and woe Forget in thee,...
Strana 1 - THE garlands fade that Spring so lately wove, Each simple flower, which she had nursed in dew, Anemonies, that spangled every grove, The primrose wan, and harebell mildly blue. No more shall violets linger in the dell, Or purple orchis variegate the plain, Till Spring again shall call forth every bell, And dress with humid hands her wreaths again. Ah, poor humanity! so frail, so fair Are the fond visions of thy early day, Till tyrant passion and corrosive care, Bid all thy fairy colours fade away...
Strana 43 - But o'er the shrinking land sublimely rides. The wild blast, rising from the western cave, Drives the huge billows from their heaving bed; Tears from their grassy tombs the village dead, And breaks the silent sabbath of the grave ! With shells and sea-weed mingled, on the shore, Lo! their bones whiten in the frequent wave; But vain to them the winds and waters rave; They hear the warring elements no more: While I am doom'd — by life's long storm opprest, To gaze with envy on their gloomy rest.
Strana 4 - For one poor moment soothe the sense of pain, And teach a breaking heart to throb no more? And you, Aruna! — in the vale below, As to the sea your limpid waves you bear Can you one kind Lethean cup bestow, To drink a long oblivion to my care? Ah! no! — when all, e'en Hope's last ray is gone, There's no oblivion — but in death alone!
Strana 43 - Press'd by the Moon, mute arbitress of tides, While the loud equinox its power combines, The sea no more its swelling surge confines, But o'er the shrinking land sublimely rides. The wild blast, rising from the Western cave, Drives the huge billows from their heaving bed ; Tears from their grassy tombs the village dead, And breaks the silent sabbath of the grave ! With shells and sea-weed mingled, on the shore, Lo ! their bones whiten in the frequent wave ; But vain to them the winds and waters rave...
Strana 44 - Sighing I resign Thy solitary beauties — and no more Or on thy rocks or in thy woods recline, Or on the heath, by moonlight lingering, pore On air-drawn phantoms — while in Fancy's ear...
Strana 4 - Ah! hills beloved! — your turf, your flowers remain; But can they peace to this sad breast restore, For one poor moment soothe the sense of pain, And teach a breaking heart to throb no more? And you, Aruna! — in the vale below, As to the...
Strana 35 - But darker now grows life's unhappy day, Dark with new clouds of evil yet to come, Her pencil sickening Fancy throws away, And weary Hope reclines upon the tomb; And points my wishes to that tranquil shore, Where the pale spectre Care pursues no more.
Strana 26 - O happy age ! when hope's unclouded ray , Lights their green path, and prompts their simple mirth, Ere yet they feel the thorns that lurking lay* To wound the wretched pilgrims of the earth, Making them rue the hour that gave them birth, And threw them on a world so full of pain. Where prosperous folly treads on patient worth, And to deaf pride, misfortune pleads in vain ! Ah ! — for their future fate how many fears Oppress my heart and fill mine eyes with tears.
Strana xxvi - Who never learn'd her dear delusive art; Which, while it decks the head with many a rose, Reserves the thorn to fester in the heart. For still she bids soft Pity's melting eye Stream o'er the ills...