The Works of the English Poets: Parnell; A. Philips

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H. Hughs, 1779 - English poetry
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Page 82 - Now sunk the sun ; the closing hour of day Came onward, mantled o'er with sober...
Page 82 - To find if books, or swains, report it right (For yet by swains alone the world he knew...
Page 4 - The luft of Lucre, and the dread of Death. In vain to Deferts thy retreat is made ; The Mufe attends thee to thy filent made : 'Tis hers, the brave man's lateft fteps to trace, Rejudge his acts, and dignify difgrace. 30 When Int'reft calls off all her fneaking train, And all th...
Page 54 - Mock the grave phrenzy of the chymic fool: But know, ye fair, a point conceal'd with art, The Sylphs and Gnomes are but a woman's heart : The Graces stand in sight; a Satyr train Peep o'er their heads, and laugh behind the scene.
Page 23 - Twas grief for scorn of faithful love, Which made my steps unweeting rove Amid the nightly dew." " "Tis well," the gallant cries again, " We fairies never injure men Who dare to tell us true. " Exalt thy love-dejected heart, Be mine the task, or ere we part, To make thee grief resign ; Now take the pleasure of thy chaunce ; Whilst I with Mab, my part'ner, daunce, Be little Mable thine.
Page 87 - ... Detested wretch !" — but scarce his speech began, When the strange partner seem'd no longer man His youthful face grew more serenely sweet ; His robe turn'd white, and flow'd upon his feet ; Fair rounds of radiant points invest his hair ; Celestial odours...
Page 25 - They smelt the fresh approach of day, And heard a cock to crow; The whirling wind that bore the crowd Has clapp'd the door, and whistled loud, To warn them all to go.
Page 88 - With heaping coals of fire upon its head; In the kind warmth the metal learns to glow, And, loose from dross, the silver runs below. * Long had our pious friend in virtue trod, But now the child half-wean'd his heart from God ; (Child of his age) for him he liv'd in pain, And measur'd back his steps to earth again. To what excesses had his dotage run ! But God, to save the father, took the son.
Page 27 - Till all the rout retreat. By this the stars began to wink, They shriek, they fly, the tapers sink, And down y^drops the Knight : For never spell by faerie laid With strong enchantment bound a glade, Beyond the length of night. Chill, dark, alone, adreed, he lay, Till up the welkin rose the...
Page 12 - Helicon forbore to flow ; The sky grew bright; and (if his verse be true) The Muses came to give the laurel too. But what avail'd the verdant prize of wit, If love swore vengeance for the tales he writ ? Ye fair offended, hear your friend relate What heavy judgment prov'd the writer's fate, Though when it happen'd, no relation clears, Tis thought in five, or five and twenty years.

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