Poems for Young Ladies: In Three Parts. Devotional, Moral, and EntertainingE. Johnson, 1785 - 276 páginas |
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Página 42
... pains me to the heart . Yet why complain ? or why complain for one ? Hangs out the fun his luftre but for me , The fingle man ? Are angels all befide ? I mourn I mourn for millions : ' tis the common lot 42 . POEMS FOR.
... pains me to the heart . Yet why complain ? or why complain for one ? Hangs out the fun his luftre but for me , The fingle man ? Are angels all befide ? I mourn I mourn for millions : ' tis the common lot 42 . POEMS FOR.
Página 43
... pain . War , famine , peft , volcano , ftorm , and fire , Inteftine broils , oppreffion , with her heart Wrapt up in ... pains You rue more modifh vifits , vifit here , And breathe from your debauch : give , and reduce Surfeit's dominion ...
... pain . War , famine , peft , volcano , ftorm , and fire , Inteftine broils , oppreffion , with her heart Wrapt up in ... pains You rue more modifh vifits , vifit here , And breathe from your debauch : give , and reduce Surfeit's dominion ...
Página 44
... pains ; And trueft friends , thro ' error , wound our rest . Without misfortune , what calamities ! And what hoftilities , without a foe ! Nor are foes wanting to the best on earth . But endless is the lift of human ills , And fighs ...
... pains ; And trueft friends , thro ' error , wound our rest . Without misfortune , what calamities ! And what hoftilities , without a foe ! Nor are foes wanting to the best on earth . But endless is the lift of human ills , And fighs ...
Página 45
... pain it feels . More gen'rous forrow , while it finks , exalts ; And conscious virtue mitigates the pang . Nor virtue , more than prudence , bids me give Swoln thought a second channel ; who divide , They weaken too , the torrent of ...
... pain it feels . More gen'rous forrow , while it finks , exalts ; And conscious virtue mitigates the pang . Nor virtue , more than prudence , bids me give Swoln thought a second channel ; who divide , They weaken too , the torrent of ...
Página 45
... pains me to the heart . Yet why complain ? or why complain for one ? Hangs out the fun his luftre but for me , The fingle man ? Are angels all befide ? I mourn I mourn for millions : ' tis the common lot 42 . FOR POEMS.
... pains me to the heart . Yet why complain ? or why complain for one ? Hangs out the fun his luftre but for me , The fingle man ? Are angels all befide ? I mourn I mourn for millions : ' tis the common lot 42 . FOR POEMS.
Outras edições - Ver tudo
Poems for Young Ladies. In Three Parts. Devotional, Moral, and Entertaining ... Visualização integral - 1792 |
Poems for Young Ladies: In Three Parts, Devotional, Moral, and Entertaining ... Oliver Goldsmith Pré-visualização indisponível - 2009 |
Poems for Young Ladies: In Three Parts, Devotional, Moral, and Entertaining ... Oliver Goldsmith Pré-visualização indisponível - 2009 |
Palavras e frases frequentes
againſt arms beauty beſt bleffings bleft bluſh bofom breaſt breath ceaſe charms clouds darkneſs death defcend deſpair diftant diſplay divine dreadful earth ECLOGUE Ev'n ev'ry eyes facred faid fair fame fate feas fhade fhall fhining fide fighs fight filent filver fire firft firſt fix'd fkies flain flame fleep flow'r fmiles foft folar fome fong fons foon forrow foul ftill ftream fuch furvey fwell goodneſs grief hand heart heav'n himſelf Hymen Hyperanthes laft lefs light loft lov'd maid moſt muſe muſt night nymph o'er OVID paffion plain pleaſe pleaſure pow'r praiſe prefent pride purſue rais'd raiſe rife riſe rofe ſcene ſeen ſhade ſhall ſhare ſhe ſhine ſhould ſhow ſkies ſky ſmiling ſpread ſtate ſtill ſweet tears thee theſe thine thofe thoſe thou thouſand thro throne Timotheus tow'r trembling waſte waves whofe Whoſe winds Wiſdom youth
Passagens conhecidas
Página 143 - There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noon-tide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
Página 143 - One morn I missed him on the customed hill, Along the heath and near his favourite tree; Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; 'The next with dirges due in sad array Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou can'st read) the lay, Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Página 61 - How great a king of fears am I ! They view me like the last of things : They make, and then they dread, my stings.
Página 145 - How lov'd, how honour'd once, avails thee not, To whom related, or by whom begot; A heap of dust alone remains of thee; 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be!
Página 19 - Be smooth, ye rocks ! ye rapid floods, give way ! The Saviour comes ! by ancient bards foretold : Hear him, ye deaf! and all ye blind, behold! He from thick films shall purge the visual ray, And on the sightless eyeball pour the day : 'Tis he th' obstructed paths of sound shall clear And bid new music charm th' unfolding ear: The dumb shall sing, the lame his crutch forego, And leap exulting like the bounding roe.
Página 19 - What conscience dictates to be done, Or warns me not to do, This teach me more than hell to shun, That more than heaven pursue.
Página 143 - On some fond breast the parting soul relies. Some pious drops the closing eye requires; Ev'n from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, Ev'n in our ashes live their wonted fires. For thee, who mindful of th...
Página 39 - The crackling faggot flies. But nothing could a charm impart To soothe the stranger's woe; For grief was heavy at his heart, And tears began to flow. His rising cares the Hermit spied, With answering care opprest : " And whence, unhappy youth," he cried, " The sorrows of thy breast ? " From better habitations spurn'd, Reluctant dost thou rove?
Página 17 - Fairest of stars, last in the train of night, If better thou belong not to the dawn, Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn With thy bright circlet, praise Him in thy sphere, While day arises, that sweet hour of prime.
Página 143 - Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth A Youth, to Fortune and to Fame unknown. Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth, And Melancholy mark'd him for her own.