Poems, by William Cowper, Esq: Together with His Posthumous Poetry, and a Sketch of His Life by John Johnson, Volume 2E. Littlefield, 1841 |
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Page 11
... play of lungs , inhaling and again Respiring freely the fresh air , that makes Swift pace or steep ascent no toil to me , Mine have not pilfer'd yet ; nor yet impair'd My relish of fair prospect ; scenes that sooth'd Or charm'd me young ...
... play of lungs , inhaling and again Respiring freely the fresh air , that makes Swift pace or steep ascent no toil to me , Mine have not pilfer'd yet ; nor yet impair'd My relish of fair prospect ; scenes that sooth'd Or charm'd me young ...
Page 16
... ning , and enlight'ning , as the leaves Play wanton , ev'ry moment , ev'ry spot . And now , with nerves new brac'd and spirits cheer'd , * See the foregoing note . We tread the wilderness , whose well - roll'd walks 16 THE TASK .
... ning , and enlight'ning , as the leaves Play wanton , ev'ry moment , ev'ry spot . And now , with nerves new brac'd and spirits cheer'd , * See the foregoing note . We tread the wilderness , whose well - roll'd walks 16 THE TASK .
Page 20
... play them , borrows a friend's hand , To deal and shuffle , to divide and sort Her mingled suits and sequences ; and sits , Spectatress both and spectacle , a sad And silent cipher , while her proxy plays . Others are dragg'd into a ...
... play them , borrows a friend's hand , To deal and shuffle , to divide and sort Her mingled suits and sequences ; and sits , Spectatress both and spectacle , a sad And silent cipher , while her proxy plays . Others are dragg'd into a ...
Page 40
... play tricks - will he indulge Object of my implacable disgust . A silly fond conceit of his fair form , And just proportion , fashionable mien , And pretty face , in presence of his God ? Or will he seek to dazzle me with tropes , 410 ...
... play tricks - will he indulge Object of my implacable disgust . A silly fond conceit of his fair form , And just proportion , fashionable mien , And pretty face , in presence of his God ? Or will he seek to dazzle me with tropes , 410 ...
Page 41
... play his brilliant parts before my eyes , When I am hungry for the bread of life ? He mocks his Maker , prostitutes and shames His noble office , and , instead of truth , Displaying his own beauty , starves his flock . Therefore avaunt ...
... play his brilliant parts before my eyes , When I am hungry for the bread of life ? He mocks his Maker , prostitutes and shames His noble office , and , instead of truth , Displaying his own beauty , starves his flock . Therefore avaunt ...
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Common terms and phrases
beauty beneath boast breath call'd cause charms death delight design'd dicebox distant divine domestick dread dream e'en earth ease ev'ning ev'ry fair fame fancy fear feed feel fieldfare flow'r folly form'd fruit give glory grace grave Guelder Rose hand happy hast heard heart Heav'n honour human John Throckmorton JOSEPH HILL king labour learn'd less liberty liv'd live lost lov'd lyre magick man-The mind mounted best musick Nature Nature's Nebaioth never o'er once peace perhaps pleas'd pleasures plebeian pow'r praise proud prove publick rest sacred scene schools seek seem'd sensual World shine skies sleep smile song soon soul sound Stamp'd sweet sweet oblivion task taste thee theme thine thou art thought toil trembling truth Twas vex'd virtue voice waste WILLIAM COWPER wind winter wisdom wisely store worth youth
Popular passages
Page 30 - I would not have a slave to till my ground, To carry me, to fan me while I sleep, And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth That sinews bought and sold have ever earned.
Page 30 - Slaves cannot breathe in England ; if their lungs Receive our air, that moment they are free ; They touch our country, and their shackles fall.
Page 77 - Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups, That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful evening in.
Page 183 - Shoots into port at some well-havened isle, Where spices breathe and brighter seasons smile, There sits quiescent on the floods, that show Her beauteous form reflected clear below, While airs impregnated with incense play Around her, fanning light her streamers gay, So thou, with sails how swift, hast reached the shore 'Where tempests never beat nor billows roar,' And thy loved consort on the dangerous tide Of life long since has anchored by thy side.
Page 125 - The night was winter in his roughest mood; The morning sharp and clear. But now at noon Upon the southern side of the slant hills, And where the woods fence off the northern blast, The season smiles, resigning all its rage, And has the warmth of May. The vault is blue Without a cloud, and white without a speck The dazzling splendour of the scene below.
Page 129 - The Lord of all, himself through all diffused, Sustains, and is the life of all that lives. Nature is but a name for an effect, Whose cause is God.
Page 12 - Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds, Exhilarate the spirit, and restore The tone of languid Nature. Mighty winds, That sweep the skirt of some far-spreading wood Of ancient growth, make music not unlike The dash of ocean on his winding shore, And lull the spirit while they fill the mind; Unnumber'd branches waving in the blast, And all their leaves fast flutt'ring, all at once.
Page 144 - One song employs all nations ; and all cry " Worthy the Lamb, for he was slain for us-! " The dwellers in the vales and on the rocks Shout to each other, and the mountain tops From distant mountains catch the flying joy ; Till, nation after nation taught the strain, Earth rolls the rapturous Hosanna round.
Page 29 - OH for a lodge in some vast wilderness, Some boundless contiguity of shade, Where rumour of oppression and deceit, Of unsuccessful or successful war, Might never reach me more.
Page 125 - The redbreast warbles still, but is content With slender notes, and more than half suppress'd ; Pleas'd with his solitude, and flitting light From spray to spray, where'er he rests he shakes From many a twig the pendent drops of ice, That tinkle in the wither'd leaves below. Stillness, accompanied with sounds so soft, Charms more than silence.