The British poetical miscellanySikes & Company, 1805 |
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... figh Of poor Mary , the Maid of the Inn . THREE BLACK CROWS . BYROM . Tone took the other , britkly , by the hand ; WO honeft tradesmen meeting in the Strand , Hark - ye , faid he , ' tis an odd ftory this , About the crows ! -I don't ...
... figh Of poor Mary , the Maid of the Inn . THREE BLACK CROWS . BYROM . Tone took the other , britkly , by the hand ; WO honeft tradesmen meeting in the Strand , Hark - ye , faid he , ' tis an odd ftory this , About the crows ! -I don't ...
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... figh- Or if thine afpect ftern have pow'r To wither each poor tranfient flow'r That cheers this pilgrimage of woe , And dry the fprings whence hope fhould flow- Wisdom ! thine empire I disclaim , Thou empty boaft of pompous name ! In ...
... figh- Or if thine afpect ftern have pow'r To wither each poor tranfient flow'r That cheers this pilgrimage of woe , And dry the fprings whence hope fhould flow- Wisdom ! thine empire I disclaim , Thou empty boaft of pompous name ! In ...
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... figh'd , when she saw that I did it with zeal . True , true , filly leaves ! so she did , I allow ; She frown'd , but no rage in her looks could I fee : She frown'd , but reflection had clouded her brow : She figh'd , but perhaps ' twas ...
... figh'd , when she saw that I did it with zeal . True , true , filly leaves ! so she did , I allow ; She frown'd , but no rage in her looks could I fee : She frown'd , but reflection had clouded her brow : She figh'd , but perhaps ' twas ...
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... figh , And many a day was feen to weep . For not a lambkin e'er was loft , Or wether stray'd to field remote , But Lubin ever was to blame ; Nor careful he , nor penn'd his cote . Yet not a trustier lad was known To climb the ...
... figh , And many a day was feen to weep . For not a lambkin e'er was loft , Or wether stray'd to field remote , But Lubin ever was to blame ; Nor careful he , nor penn'd his cote . Yet not a trustier lad was known To climb the ...
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... figh , Tom oft exclaims , Bad Company !! Poor Mag , who fhares his mafter's fate , Exclaims , from out his wicker grate , Bad Company ! Bad Company ! Then views poor Tom with curious And cheers his master's wretched hours , By this ...
... figh , Tom oft exclaims , Bad Company !! Poor Mag , who fhares his mafter's fate , Exclaims , from out his wicker grate , Bad Company ! Bad Company ! Then views poor Tom with curious And cheers his master's wretched hours , By this ...
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Common terms and phrases
anguiſh Bad Company behold beneath black crows bleffing bleft bofom breaſt breath BRITISH POETICAL MISCELLANY caft CHARLOTTE SMITH charms cloſe cold cry'd dear death defpair diftant doft dread dy'd E'en ev'ry eyes facred faid fair fate fcene fear feek feen fhade fhall fhore fhould fide figh filent fink fkies fleep flow'r fmile foft fome fong fons foon foothe forrow foul fpirits ftill ftranger ftream fuch fure fweet fwell grave grief hand hear heart Heav'n hour laft laſt life's loft lov'd maid morn mourn muft muſt ne'er o'er paffion pain peace PINDAR pity pleaſure poor pow'r reft rife rofe Sally Green ſcene ſhall ſhe ſkies ſky ſmile ſpot ſpread ſweet tear tender thee thefe theſe thine thofe thoſe thou toil tomb trembling Twas vale weeping whofe Whoſe wild wind wretched youth
Popular passages
Page 4 - 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 4 - 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 1 - 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 2 - Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the Poor. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave Await alike th' inevitable hour : — The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Page 7 - How lov'd , how honour'd once , avails thee not, To whom related, or by whom begot; A heap of dust alone remains of thee, 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be!
Page 1 - Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...
Page 6 - What though no friends in sable weeds appear, Grieve for an hour, perhaps, then mourn a year, And bear about the mockery of woe To midnight dances, and the public show?
Page 9 - Why did all-creating Nature Make the plant for which we toil ? Sighs must fan it, tears must water, Sweat of ours must dress the soil. Think, ye masters iron-hearted, Lolling at your jovial boards ; Think how many backs have smarted For the sweets your cane affords.