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beams beauty beneath blast bless blooming blush bosom breast breath bright charms cheek dear death deep delight despair dread dwell earth ev'ry face fair fate fear feel flow flowers fond gentle glow grace grave grief hand happy hast head hear heard heart Heav'n hope hour human kind lady leave light lips looks maid Mary meet mind morn nature ne'er never night nymph o'er once pain pale passions peace plain poor praise pride rage rest rise rose round seen shade side sigh sight silent sleep smile soft song soon sorrow soul sound spring stream sweet tear tell tender thee thine thou thought thro trembling truth Twas vain virtue voice waves wild willow wind wing youth
Page 18 - Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, Where furious Frank, and fiery Hun,' Shout in their sulphurous canopy. The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory or the grave ! Wave, Munich ! all thy banners wave ! And charge with all thy chivalry...
Page 178 - Thy silver locks, once auburn bright, Are still more lovely in my sight Than golden beams of orient light, My Mary!
Page 14 - Old Kaspar took it from the boy, Who stood expectant by; And then the old man shook his head, And with a natural sigh, ' 'Tis some poor fellow's skull,' said he, 'Who fell in the great victory.
Page 87 - twas wild. But thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair, What was thy delighted measure? Still it whisper'd promised pleasure, And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail ! Still would her touch the strain prolong; And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, She call'd on Echo still, through all the song: And, where her sweetest theme she chose, A soft responsive voice was heard at every close, And Hope enchanted smiled, and waved her golden hair.
Page 19 - Tis want that makes my cheek so pale. Yet I was once a mother's pride, And my brave father's hope and joy ; But in the Nile's proud fight he died, And I am now an orphan boy. " Poor foolish child, how pleased was I, When news of Nelson's victory came, Along the crowded streets to fly, And...
Page 165 - Who slept in buds the day, And many a Nymph who wreathes her brows with sedge, And sheds the freshening dew, and, lovelier still, The pensive Pleasures sweet, Prepare thy shadowy car.
Page 40 - Then holding the spectacles up to the court — Your lordship observes they are made with a straddle As wide as the ridge of the Nose is ; in short, Designed to sit close to it, just like a saddle.
Page 178 - Twas my distress that brought thee low, My Mary! Thy needles, once a shining store, For my sake restless heretofore, Now rust disused, and shine no more; My Mary! For though thou gladly wouldst fulfil The same kind office for me still, Thy sight now seconds not thy will, My Mary!
Page 17 - On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow ; And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.