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The Works of the English Poets. with Prefaces, Biographical and Critical, by ...
English Poets,Samuel Johnson
No preview available - 2015
Amalthea ancient arms Bard beauty Behold beneath besore bids blest bliss blissful band bloom blooming store bosom bower breast breath charms country's court Damon Delia delight disdain divine dread Dryads e'er earth ECLOGUE envy Ev'n eyes facred fair faithful fame fate flame flowers freedom fublime fuch genius gentle glory grace grove hand happy hath hear heart heaven Hesiod honour hope hour Latium lise lov'd lyre maid Margaret of Anjou mind Muse Muse's Naiads ne'er nobler numbers nymphs o'er pain passions Petrarch Pindar Pindus pleafure pleas'd pleasing praise pride purfue rage rais'd resin'd scene sear seel seet semale shade shame shine sield sire sirst smile soft sond song sorce sorm sortune soul strain swain sway sweet tears tell tender thee thine thou thought throne toils tongue tuning sweet Venus vext virtue Virtue's voice warbling youth
Page 186 - To Contemplation's sober eye Such is the race of Man: And they that creep, and they that fly, Shall end where they began.
Page 198 - Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke : How jocund did they drive their team afield ! How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke...
Page 204 - Awake, /Eolian 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...
Page 200 - 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 201 - 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 197 - THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea, The plowman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...
Page 201 - 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 197 - Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
Page 197 - Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds : Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tower, The moping owl does to the Moon complain Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, Molest her ancient solitary reign.