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ancient arms awful beauty beneath bird bow'rs breaſt breath bright brow collection crown death deep delight earth ev'ry fair fall fame Fancy fate field fire firſt flow flow'rs Freedom freſh glory golden grace green groves hand head hear heart heav'n hill hold hope king land late laws Lead light Lord maid mind Muſe nature night notes o'er once peace plain poems pow'r prince proud Queen rage reign reſt riſe round royal ſcene ſee ſeen ſhade ſhall ſhe ſhine ſmile ſoft ſolemn ſome ſong ſons ſoul ſounds ſpread ſtand ſtate ſteps ſtill ſtream ſuch ſweet tear tender thee theſe thine thoſe thou thought thro throne tow'rs train Truth vale virtue voice walks wave whoſe winds wood WRITTEN Youth
Page 59 - The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care; No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
Page 62 - There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
Page 63 - 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.
Page 59 - Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, , The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
Page 60 - The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Awaits alike th
Page 63 - 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. Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere...
Page 56 - Lie slaughter'd on their native ground ; Thy hospitable roofs no more Invite the stranger to the door; In smoky ruins sunk they lie. The monuments of cruelty. The wretched owner sees afar His all become the prey of war ; Bethinks him of his babes and wife, Then smites his breast, and curses life.
Page 35 - While Spring shall pour his Show'rs, as oft he wont, And bathe thy breathing Tresses, meekest Eve! While Summer loves to sport, Beneath thy ling'ring light: While sallow Autumn fills thy Lap with Leaves, Or Winter yelling thro' the troublous Air, Affrights thy shrinking Train, And rudely rends thy Robes.