Readings on Poetry

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Page 22 - Say, Father Thames, for thou hast seen Full many a sprightly race Disporting on thy margent green The paths of pleasure trace, Who foremost now delight to cleave With pliant arm thy glassy wave ? The captive linnet which enthrall?
Page 121 - The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself; * Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like the baseless fabric of a vision, Leave not a wreck behind.
Page 99 - Thyself how wondrous then! Unspeakable, who sitt'st above these heavens To us invisible, or dimly seen In these Thy lowest works : yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine. Speak, ye who best can tell, ye sons of light, Angels ! for ye behold him, and with songs And choral symphonies, day without night, Circle his throne rejoicing : ye in heaven, On earth join all ye creatures to extol Him first, him last, him midst, and without end.
Page 32 - That every labouring sinew strains, Those in the deeper vitals rage : Lo ! Poverty, to fill the band, That numbs the soul with icy hand, And slow-consuming Age. To each his sufferings : all are men, Condemned alike to groan ; The tender for another's pain, Th
Page 158 - 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 griesly 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 29 - Shame that skulks behind; Or pining Love shall waste their youth, Or Jealousy with rankling tooth That inly gnaws the secret heart, And Envy wan, and faded Care, Grim-visaged comfortless Despair, And Sorrow's piercing dart. Ambition this shall tempt to rise, Then whirl the wretch from high To bitter Scorn a sacrifice And grinning Infamy. The stings of Falsehood those shall try And hard Unkindness...
Page 150 - 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 Streamed, 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 164 - 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 160 - With me in dreadful harmony they join, And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line. II. 1. "Weave the warp, and weave the woof, The winding sheet of Edward's race. Give ample room, and verge enough The characters of hell to trace.
Page 117 - When first on this delightful land he spreads His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower, Glistering with dew; fragrant the fertile earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful evening" mild; then silent night With this her solemn bird, and this fair moon, And these the gems of heaven, her starry train...

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