A Collection of Poems in Six Volumes. By Several Hands, Volume 6Robert Dodsley J. Hughs, 1765 |
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Página 8
... hours of morn Ingage your audience : my obfervant hand Shall close the strain ere any fultry beam Approach you . To your fubterranean haunts Ye then may timely fteal ; to pace with care The humid fands ; to loofen from the foil The ...
... hours of morn Ingage your audience : my obfervant hand Shall close the strain ere any fultry beam Approach you . To your fubterranean haunts Ye then may timely fteal ; to pace with care The humid fands ; to loofen from the foil The ...
Página 15
... Hours before him spread The garden's banquet ; you to crown his feast , To crown his feaft , O Naiads , you the fair Hygeia calls and from your fhelving feats , And groves of poplar , plenteous cups ye bring , To flake his veins ...
... Hours before him spread The garden's banquet ; you to crown his feast , To crown his feaft , O Naiads , you the fair Hygeia calls and from your fhelving feats , And groves of poplar , plenteous cups ye bring , To flake his veins ...
Página 17
... hour of funfet , by fome lonely stream , In field or fhady grove , they taught me words Of power from death and envy to preferve The good man's name . whence yet with grateful mind , And offerings unprofan'd by ruder eye , VOL . VI . B ...
... hour of funfet , by fome lonely stream , In field or fhady grove , they taught me words Of power from death and envy to preferve The good man's name . whence yet with grateful mind , And offerings unprofan'd by ruder eye , VOL . VI . B ...
Página 22
... . Nor fhall the blandifhment of Tuscan strings Warbling at will in pleasure's myrtle bower ; Nor fhall the bafer notes to Celtic kings By lying minstrels paid in evil hour , Move Thee to spurn the heavenly Mufe's reign . A Move ( 22 ) 1 ...
... . Nor fhall the blandifhment of Tuscan strings Warbling at will in pleasure's myrtle bower ; Nor fhall the bafer notes to Celtic kings By lying minstrels paid in evil hour , Move Thee to spurn the heavenly Mufe's reign . A Move ( 22 ) 1 ...
Página 32
... hours , Lewd brawls and lurking flander , were defign'd . Be thou thy own approver . Honest praise Oft nobly sways Ingenuous youth : But , fought from cowards and the lying mouth , Praise is reproach . Eternal GOD alone For mortals ...
... hours , Lewd brawls and lurking flander , were defign'd . Be thou thy own approver . Honest praise Oft nobly sways Ingenuous youth : But , fought from cowards and the lying mouth , Praise is reproach . Eternal GOD alone For mortals ...
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Palavras e frases frequentes
bard beauty behold beneath beſt beſtow bleffings bleft boaſt bofom breaſt charms Chlorinda cloſe diftant eaſe Ev'n facred fafe fage fair fame fate feat fenfe fhade fhall fhew fhine fide figh filent fince firſt flow'rs fmile foft folar folemn fome fong fons foul fpring freſh friendſhip ftate ftill fuch fure fweet genius glory Goddeſs grace grove gueſt hand heart heav'n himſelf inſpires juſt laſt lefs loft lyre mind moſt Mufe muft Muſe muſt Naiads ne'er numbers Nymphs o'er paffion peace plain pleas'd pleaſe pleaſure pow'r praiſe purſue raiſe reft reſt rife rofe ſcene ſhade ſhall ſhe ſhould ſky ſmile ſome ſpeak ſpirit ſpread ſtand ſtate ſteps ſtill ſtood ſtrains ſtream ſtrong ſweet taſk taſte thee theſe thofe thoſe thou thouſand toil truth vale virtue Whilft whofe Whoſe wife wings Wiſdom youth
Passagens conhecidas
Página 391 - On a rock, whose haughty brow Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, Robed in the sable garb of woe, With haggard eyes the Poet stood ; Loose his beard, and hoary hair Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air And, with a Master's hand, and Prophet's fire, Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.
Página 397 - That lost in long futurity expire. Fond impious man, think'st thou yon sanguine cloud Raised by thy breath, has quench'd the orb of day? To-morrow he repairs the golden flood And warms the nations with redoubled ray. Enough for me : with joy I see The different doom our fates assign : Be thine Despair and sceptred Care, To triumph and to die are mine.
Página 392 - Far, far aloof th' affrighted ravens sail ; The famish'd eagle screams, and passes by. Dear lost companions of my tuneful art, Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes, Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart, Ye died amidst your dying country's cries — No more I weep. They do not sleep. On yonder cliffs, a...
Página 392 - Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart, Ye died amidst your dying country's cries — No more I weep : they do not sleep ! On yonder cliffs, a grisly band, I see them sit; they linger yet Avengers of their native land : With me in dreadful harmony they join, And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line.
Página 389 - Closed his eyes in endless night. Behold where Dryden's less presumptuous car Wide o'er the fields of Glory bear Two coursers of ethereal race, With necks in thunder clothed, and long-resounding pace Hark, his hands the lyre explore! Bright-eyed Fancy, hovering o'er, Scatters from her pictured urn Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn. But ah ! 'tis heard no more — Oh ! Lyre divine, what daring Spirit Wakes thee now ! Tho...
Página 392 - With me in dreadful harmony they join, And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line. II. 1 'Weave the warp and weave the woof, The winding-sheet of Edward's race; Give ample room and verge enough The characters of hell to trace...
Página 393 - Fair laughs the Morn, and soft the zephyr blows, While proudly riding o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes: Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm: Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, That hush'd in grim repose expects his evening prey.
Página 385 - Perching on the sceptred hand Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feather'd king With ruffled plumes, and flagging wing : Quench'd in dark clouds of slumber lie The terror of his beak, and lightnings of his eye.
Página 389 - Yet shall he mount, and keep his distant way Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate ; Beneath the good how far — but far above the great ! ODE VI.
Página 388 - This pencil take (she said), whose colours clear Richly paint the vernal year : Thine too these golden keys, immortal Boy ! This can unlock the gates of joy ; Of horror that...