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beauty beneath boast breath call'd cause charg'd charms dæmons death delight distant divine dream earth ease Edmonton ev'n ev'ry fair fake fame fancy fast fear feed feel fense flow'r folly form'd foul fountain of eternal frown Gilpin give glory grace grave groves hand happy hast heard heart heav'n honour human INNER TEMPLE John Gilpin labour learn'd less liberty live lov'd lyre Mighty winds mind muse nature Nature's Nebaioth never nymphs o'er once peace perhaps pleas'd pleasure pow'r praise proud rapture rude rural sacred scene seek seem'd shade shine shrubs sield sight sill sill'd sinds sire sirm sirst skies sleep sloth smile sofa song soon sound Stamp'd sweet task taste thee their's thine thou art thought toil trembling truth Twas virtue wind winter wisdom worth youth
Strana 59 - And natural in gefture; much imprefs'd Himfelf, as confcious of his awful charge, And anxious mainly that the flock he feeds May feel it too; affectionate in look, And tender in addrefs, as well becomes A meflenger of grace to guilty men. Behold the pifture !—Is it like ?—Like whom? The things that mount the
Strana 333 - Twas wonderful to view How in a trice the turnpike-men Their gates wide open threw. And now, as he went bowing down His reeking head full low, The bottles twain behind his back Were fliatter'd at a blow. Down ran the wine into the road, Moll piteous to be feen,
Strana 89 - While thoughtful man is plaufibly amus'd. Defend me, therefore, common fenfe, fay I, From reveries fo airy, from the toil Of dropping buckets into empty wells, And growing old in drawing nothing up ! Twere well, fays one fage erudite, profound, Terribly arch'd and aquiline his nofe, And overbuilt with moft impending brows,
Strana 330 - lov'd, And keep it fafe and found. Each bottle had a curling ear, Through which the belt he drew, And hung a bottle on each fide, To make his balance true. Then, over all, that he might be Equipp'd from top to toe, His long red cloak, well brufli'd and neat, He manfully did throw. Now fee
Strana 42 - I would not have a flave to till my ground, To carry me, to fan me while I fleep, And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth That finews bought and fold have ever earn'd. No : dear as freedom is, and in my heart's
Strana 189 - foes, confed'rate for his harm, Can wind around him, but he cafts it off With as much eafe as Samfon his green wyths. He looks abroad into the varied field Of nature, and, though poor perhaps compar'd With thofe whofe manfions glitter in his fight, Calls the delightful fcen'ry all his own.
Strana 188 - And hiftory, fo warm on meaner themes, Is cold on this. She execrates indeed The tyranny that doom'd them to the fire, But gives the glorious fuff'rers little praife *. He is the freeman whom the truth makes free, And all are flaves
Strana 336 - Whence ftraight he came with hat and wig; A wig that flow'd behind, A hat not much the worfe for wear, Each comely in its kind. He held them up, and, in his turn, Thus fliow'd his ready wit— My head is twice as big as
Strana 266 - hew'd, not yet deftroy'd: The little ones, unbutton'd, glowing hot, Playing our games, and on the very fpot; As happy as we once, to kneel and draw The chalky ring, and knuckle down at taw; To pitch the ball into the grounded hat, Or drive it devious with a dext'rous pat—