Life and works of William Cowper, Zväzok 7

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Strana 140 - And every soul cried out, Well done ! As loud as he could bawl. Away went Gilpin — who but he ? His fame soon spread around, He carries weight ! he rides a race ! Tis for a thousand pound...
Strana 144 - The youth did ride, and soon did meet John coming back amain, Whom in a trice he tried to stop By catching at his rein. But not performing what he meant, And gladly would have done, The frighted steed he frighted more, And made him faster run. Away went Gilpin, and away Went post-boy at his heels, The post-boy's horse right glad to miss The lumbering of the wheels.
Strana 125 - How fleet is a glance of the mind ! Compared with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind, And the swift-winged arrows of light When I think of my own native land, In a moment I seem to be there ; But alas ! recollection at hand Soon hurries me back to despair.
Strana 83 - One song employs all nations, and all cry, ' Worthy the Lamb, for he was slain for us ! ' The dwellers in the vales and on the rocks Shout to each other, and the mountain tops From distant mountains catch the flying joy : Till nation after nation taught the strain, Earth rolls the rapturous Hosanna round.
Strana 163 - Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed ? Hover'd thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son, Wretch even then, life's journey just begun? Perhaps thou gav'st me, though unfelt, a kiss, Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss — Ah, that maternal smile ! it answers — Yes.
Strana 125 - I AM monarch of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute ; From the centre all round to the sea I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
Strana 163 - All this still legible in memory's page, And still to be so to my latest age, Adds joy to duty, makes me glad to pay Such honours to thee as my numbers may...
Strana 138 - He grasp'd the mane with both his hands, And eke with all his might. His horse, who never in that sort Had handled been before, What thing upon his back had got Did wonder more and more.
Strana 163 - Shoots into port at some well-havened isle, Where spices breathe and brighter seasons smile, There sits quiescent on the floods, that show Her beauteous form reflected clear below, While airs impregnated with incense play Around her, fanning light her streamers gay, So thou, with sails how swift, hast reached the shore 'Where tempests never beat nor billows roar,' And thy loved consort on the dangerous tide Of life long since has anchored by thy side.
Strana 163 - The man that hails you Tom or Jack, And proves by thumps upon your back How he esteems your merit, Is such a friend, that one had need Be very much his friend indeed To pardon or to bear it.

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