A collection of poems, by several hands [ed. by R. Dodsley].1758 |
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Page 11
... breast Which pines with filent paffion ) he in vain Hath prov'd ; to your deep manfions he defcends . Your gates of humid rock , your dim arcades , He entereth ; where impurpled veins of ore Gleam on the roof ; where through the rigid ...
... breast Which pines with filent paffion ) he in vain Hath prov'd ; to your deep manfions he defcends . Your gates of humid rock , your dim arcades , He entereth ; where impurpled veins of ore Gleam on the roof ; where through the rigid ...
Page 14
... breast With verfe ; let him , fit votarift , implore Their inspiration . He perchance the gifts Of young Lyæus , and the dread exploits , May fing in apteft numbers : he the fate Of fober Pentheus , he the Paphian rites , And naked Mars ...
... breast With verfe ; let him , fit votarift , implore Their inspiration . He perchance the gifts Of young Lyæus , and the dread exploits , May fing in apteft numbers : he the fate Of fober Pentheus , he the Paphian rites , And naked Mars ...
Page 16
... breast the gifts of every Mufe hath known Nor fhall the giver's love difgrace thy noble name . I. 3 . The Mufe's awful art , And the fair function of the poet's tongue , Ne'er fhalt thou blush to honour ; to affert From all that scorned ...
... breast the gifts of every Mufe hath known Nor fhall the giver's love difgrace thy noble name . I. 3 . The Mufe's awful art , And the fair function of the poet's tongue , Ne'er fhalt thou blush to honour ; to affert From all that scorned ...
Page 30
... breast of blameless thoughts Approve thee , not unwelcome fhalt thou tread My quiet manfion : chiefly , if thy name Wife Pallas and the immortal Mufes own . II . For a Statue of CHAUCER at WOODSTOCK . OUCH was old Chaucer . fuch the ...
... breast of blameless thoughts Approve thee , not unwelcome fhalt thou tread My quiet manfion : chiefly , if thy name Wife Pallas and the immortal Mufes own . II . For a Statue of CHAUCER at WOODSTOCK . OUCH was old Chaucer . fuch the ...
Page 31
... breast be cold To him , this other heroe ; who , in times Dark and untaught , began with charming verfe To tame the rudeness of his native land . W XXXXXXXXXX III . XXXXX HOE'ER thou art whofe path in fummer lies Through yonder village ...
... breast be cold To him , this other heroe ; who , in times Dark and untaught , began with charming verfe To tame the rudeness of his native land . W XXXXXXXXXX III . XXXXX HOE'ER thou art whofe path in fummer lies Through yonder village ...
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Common terms and phrases
bard beauty behold beneath bleffings bleft blifs boaſt bofom breaſt charms chearful Chlorinda cloſe cou'd courſe eaſe Ev'n ev'ry facred fafe fage fair fame fate fcene feat fenfe fhade fhall fhew fhou'd fhun figh filent fince firft firſt flow'rs fmile foft folar folemn fome fong fons foul freſh ftands ftate ftill ftream fuch fure fweet genius glory grace grove hand heart heav'n laſt Latian lefs loft lyre mind moſt Mufe muft Muſe muſt Naiads ne'er numbers Nymphs o'er paffion peace plain pleas'd pleaſe pleaſure pow'r praiſe purſue raiſe reafon reft rife ſcene ſhade ſhall ſhape ſhare ſhe ſhould ſky ſmile ſpeak ſpirit ſpread ſprings ſtate ſteps ſtill ſtrains ſweet taſk taſte thee thefe theſe thofe thoſe thou thouſand thro toil vale virtue Whilft whofe whoſe wife wings wiſh worfe wou'd youth
Popular passages
Page 321 - On a rock, whose haughty brow Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, Robed in the sable garb of woe, With haggard eyes the Poet stood ; Loose his beard, and hoary hair Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air And, with a Master's hand, and Prophet's fire, Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.
Page 322 - Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart, Ye died amidst your dying country's cries — No more I weep. They do not sleep. On yonder cliffs, a grisly band, I see them sit, they linger yet, Avengers of their native land : With me in dreadful harmony they join, And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line.
Page 317 - Aeolian 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 318 - Perching on the sceptred hand Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feather'd king With ruffled plumes, and flagging wing : Quench'd in dark clouds of slumber lie The terror of his beak, and lightnings of his eye.
Page 28 - The language of our fathers. Here he dwelt For many a cheerful day. These ancient walls Have often heard him, while his legends blithe He sang; of love, or knighthood, or the wiles Of homely life; through each estate and age, The fashions and the follies of the world With cunning hand portraying.
Page 321 - And with a Master's hand, and Prophet's fire, Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre. 'Hark, how each giant-oak, and desert cave, Sighs to the torrent's aweful voice beneath ! O'er thee, oh King ! their hundred arms they wave,. Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe ; Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day, To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.
Page 319 - Muse? Night and all her sickly dews, Her Spectres wan, and Birds of boding cry, He gives to range the dreary sky; Till down the eastern cliffs afar Hyperion's march they spy, and glitt'ring shafts of war.
Page 323 - Fair laughs the Morn, and soft the zephyr blows, While proudly riding o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes: Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm: Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, That hush'd in grim repose expects his evening prey.
Page 27 - Actaea, daughter of the neighbouring stream, . This cave belongs. The fig-tree and the vine, Which o'er the rocky entrance downward shoot, Were placed by Glycon.
Page 325 - Fond impious man, think'st thou yon sanguine cloud Raised by thy breath, has quench'd the orb of day? To-morrow he repairs the golden flood And warms the nations with redoubled ray. Enough for me : with joy I see The different doom our fates assign : Be thine Despair and sceptred Care, To triumph and to die are mine.