A collection of poems, by several hands [ed. by R. Dodsley].1758 |
No interior do livro
Resultados 1-5 de 39
Página 3
... bright Aftræa feated by his fide , Waits yet to leave the ocean . Tarry , Nymphs . Ye Nymphs , ye blue - ey'd progeny of Thames , Who now the mazes of this rugged heath Trace with your fleeting fteps ; who all night long Repeat , amid ...
... bright Aftræa feated by his fide , Waits yet to leave the ocean . Tarry , Nymphs . Ye Nymphs , ye blue - ey'd progeny of Thames , Who now the mazes of this rugged heath Trace with your fleeting fteps ; who all night long Repeat , amid ...
Página 12
... bright Apollo , leader of the fong , Their voices through the liquid air exalt , And sweep their lofty ftrings : thofe awful ftrings , That charm the mind of Gods : that fill the courts Of wide Olympus with oblivion sweet Of evils ...
... bright Apollo , leader of the fong , Their voices through the liquid air exalt , And sweep their lofty ftrings : thofe awful ftrings , That charm the mind of Gods : that fill the courts Of wide Olympus with oblivion sweet Of evils ...
Página 26
... bright , Haft thou with purer joy furvey'd Than that where truth , by Hoadly's aid , Shines through the deep unhallow'd shade Of kingly fraud and facerdotal night ? I. 3 . To him the Teacher blefs'd Who fent religion , from the palmy ...
... bright , Haft thou with purer joy furvey'd Than that where truth , by Hoadly's aid , Shines through the deep unhallow'd shade Of kingly fraud and facerdotal night ? I. 3 . To him the Teacher blefs'd Who fent religion , from the palmy ...
Página 28
... bright heroine her expected spoils . III . 2 . Yet born to conquer is her power : -O Hoadly , if that favourite hour On earth arrive , with thankful awe We own juft heaven's indulgent law , And proudly thy fuccefs behold ; We ' attend ...
... bright heroine her expected spoils . III . 2 . Yet born to conquer is her power : -O Hoadly , if that favourite hour On earth arrive , with thankful awe We own juft heaven's indulgent law , And proudly thy fuccefs behold ; We ' attend ...
Página 32
... bright renown ; or who for nobler palms Contend , the leaders of a public cause ; Approach behold this marble . Know ye not The features ? Hath not oft his faithful tongue Told Told you the fashion of your own eftate , The [ 32 ]
... bright renown ; or who for nobler palms Contend , the leaders of a public cause ; Approach behold this marble . Know ye not The features ? Hath not oft his faithful tongue Told Told you the fashion of your own eftate , The [ 32 ]
Outras edições - Ver tudo
A collection of poems, by several hands [ed. by R. Dodsley]. [2 other copies ... Collection Visualização integral - 1766 |
A collection of poems, by several hands [ed. by R. Dodsley]. [2 other copies ... Collection Visualização integral - 1765 |
Palavras e frases frequentes
bard beauty behold beneath bleffings bleft blifs boaſt bofom breaſt charms chearful Chlorinda cloſe cou'd courſe eaſe Ev'n ev'ry facred fafe fage fair fame fate fcene feat fenfe fhade fhall fhew fhou'd fhun figh filent fince firft firſt flow'rs fmile foft folar folemn fome fong fons foul freſh ftands ftate ftill ftream fuch fure fweet genius glory grace grove hand heart heav'n laſt Latian 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 reafon reft rife ſcene ſhade ſhall ſhape ſhare ſhe ſhould ſky ſmile ſpeak ſpirit ſpread ſprings ſtate ſteps ſtill ſtrains ſweet taſk taſte thee thefe theſe thofe thoſe thou thouſand thro toil vale virtue Whilft whofe whoſe wife wings wiſh worfe wou'd youth
Passagens conhecidas
Página 321 - 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 322 - 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 317 - Aeolian lyre, awake, And give to rapture all thy trembling strings. From Helicon's harmonious springs A thousand rills their mazy progress take: The laughing flowers, that round them blow, Drink life and fragrance as they flow. Now the rich stream of music winds along, Deep, majestic, smooth, and strong, Through verdant vales and Ceres...
Página 318 - 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 28 - The language of our fathers. Here he dwelt For many a cheerful day. These ancient walls Have often heard him, while his legends blithe He sang; of love, or knighthood, or the wiles Of homely life; through each estate and age, The fashions and the follies of the world With cunning hand portraying.
Página 321 - And with a Master's hand, and Prophet's fire, Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre. 'Hark, how each giant-oak, and desert cave, Sighs to the torrent's aweful voice beneath ! O'er thee, oh King ! their hundred arms they wave,. Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe ; Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day, To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.
Página 319 - Muse? Night and all her sickly dews, Her Spectres wan, and Birds of boding cry, He gives to range the dreary sky; Till down the eastern cliffs afar Hyperion's march they spy, and glitt'ring shafts of war.
Página 323 - 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 27 - Actaea, daughter of the neighbouring stream, . This cave belongs. The fig-tree and the vine, Which o'er the rocky entrance downward shoot, Were placed by Glycon.
Página 325 - 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.