The Complete Poetical Works of William Cowper

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H. Frowde, 1905 - 672 páginas
 

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Página 311 - 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.
Página 433 - So shall my walk be close with God, Calm and serene my frame ; So purer light shall mark the road, That leads me to the Lamb.
Página 344 - It was not in the battle ; No tempest gave the shock ; She sprang no fatal leak, She ran upon no rock. His sword was in its sheath, His fingers held the pen, When Kempenfelt went down With twice four hundred men.
Página 344 - A land-breeze shook the shrouds, And she was overset; Down went the Royal George, With all her crew complete. Toll for the brave! Brave Kempenfelt is gone; His last sea-fight is fought; His work of glory done. It was not in the battle; No tempest gave the shock; She sprang no fatal leak ; She ran upon no rock.
Página 349 - Inclined to tarry there ; For why? — his owner had a house Full ten miles off, at Ware. So like an arrow swift he flew, Shot by an archer strong ; So did he fly — which brings me to The middle of my song. Away went Gilpin out of breath, And sore against his will, Till at his friend the calender's His horse at last stood still.
Página 312 - Ye winds, that have made me your sport, Convey to this desolate shore Some cordial endearing report Of a land I shall visit no more.
Página 350 - My head is twice as big as yours, They therefore needs must fit. "But let me scrape the dirt away That hangs upon your face; And stop and eat, for well you may Be in a hungry case.
Página 347 - Where they did all get in ; Six precious souls, and all agog To dash through thick and thin. Smack went the whip, round went the wheels, Were never folk so glad.
Página 362 - Of my favourite field, and the bank where they grew ; And now in the grass behold they are laid, And the tree is my seat that once lent me a shade ! The blackbird has fled to another retreat, Where the hazels afford him a screen from the heat, And the scene where his melody charm'd me before Resounds with his sweet-flowing ditty no more.
Página 348 - 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.

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