The Union: Or, Select Scots and English Poems, Volume 1Thomas Warton |
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Page 12
... praise of female genius . Oft fhall GEORGE Pay the kind tear , and grief of tender words To CAROLINE , thus oft lamenting fad . " Hail facred fhade ! by me with endless woe " Still honour'd ! ever in my Breast shall dwell " Thy image ...
... praise of female genius . Oft fhall GEORGE Pay the kind tear , and grief of tender words To CAROLINE , thus oft lamenting fad . " Hail facred fhade ! by me with endless woe " Still honour'd ! ever in my Breast shall dwell " Thy image ...
Page 13
... we admire thy bold defign , And , as the subject , own the hand divine . While thro ' thy work the rifing day shall stream , So long shall last thine honour , praise and name . And may thy labours to the Mufe impart Some emanation C 3 13.
... we admire thy bold defign , And , as the subject , own the hand divine . While thro ' thy work the rifing day shall stream , So long shall last thine honour , praise and name . And may thy labours to the Mufe impart Some emanation C 3 13.
Page 19
... praise attends the pious * Heir ; He , in whose foul the virtues all confpire , The best good son , from the worst wicked fire . And lo ! in Hezekiah's golden reign , Long - exil'd piety returns again ; Again , in genuine purity fhe ...
... praise attends the pious * Heir ; He , in whose foul the virtues all confpire , The best good son , from the worst wicked fire . And lo ! in Hezekiah's golden reign , Long - exil'd piety returns again ; Again , in genuine purity fhe ...
Page 53
... praise ; Lo ! your lov'd ISIS , from the bord❜ring vale , With all a mother's fondnefs bids you hail ! Hail , OXFORD , hail ! of all that's good and great , Of all that's fair , the guardian and the feat ; Nurfe of each brave purfuit ...
... praise ; Lo ! your lov'd ISIS , from the bord❜ring vale , With all a mother's fondnefs bids you hail ! Hail , OXFORD , hail ! of all that's good and great , Of all that's fair , the guardian and the feat ; Nurfe of each brave purfuit ...
Page 59
... praise , Nor truft to happiness that's not our own , The fmile of fortune might fufpicion raise , But here , I know , that I am lov'd alone . XI . STANHOPE , in wisdom , as in wit divine , May rife , and plead Britannia's glorious cause ...
... praise , Nor truft to happiness that's not our own , The fmile of fortune might fufpicion raise , But here , I know , that I am lov'd alone . XI . STANHOPE , in wisdom , as in wit divine , May rife , and plead Britannia's glorious cause ...
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beauty beneath blaſt bleffings bluſh bow'rs breaſt breathe brow caufe chearful crown'd erft ev'ning ev'ry facred fage fair fame fang fcene fcorn feems feen fhade fhall fhine fhrill ficht filent filver fimple fing firſt flain fleep flower fmiles foft folemn fome fong fons footh foul frae Freedom calls freſh ftand ftill ftrain fuch fwain fweet fwell fword Goddeſs green Hail hand HARDYKNUTE hear heart Heav'n ISIS king lov'd lufty lyre maid majeſtic mufing muſe Norfe numina nymph o'er peace penfive plain pleaſe pow'r praiſe prince Queen Quhen rage reaſon reft reign reſt rife ſcene Scotland ſhade ſhall ſhe ſkies ſky ſome ſpread ſpring ſtand ſtate ſteps ſtill ſtream ſtrong ſweet tear tender thee theſe thine THOMAS WARTON thoſe thou thro throne tow'rs vale vermil virtue whofe Whoſe zour
Popular passages
Page 68 - 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 66 - 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 65 - THE CURFEW tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The plowman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Page 65 - 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 68 - 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.
Page 69 - 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 65 - Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
Page 66 - And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Awaits alike th' inevitable hour: The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Page 40 - Whose numbers, stealing through thy darkening vale, May not unseemly with its stillness suit ; As musing slow I hail Thy genial loved return. For when thy folding-star * arising shows His paly circlet, at his warning lamp The fragrant Hours, and Elves 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 66 - Rich with the fpoils of time did ne'er unroll ; Chill Penury reprefs'd their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the foul.