Lady's Poetical Magazine, Or Beauties of British Poetry, Volume 4
Harrison and Company, 1782 - English poetry
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arms bear beauty beneath bloom breaſt bright charms clouds court dear death deep delight E'en earth ev'ry eyes face facred fair fall fame fate fear fell fhade fhall fide field figh fight fire flame flow fmiling foft fome fong fons foul fpring ftill ftream fuch give grace grove hand head hear heart Heav'n hope hour it's kind kings land leave light live loft look maid mind morn mourn Mufe Nature night o'er once paffion pain peace plain pow'r praiſe pride rife roll round ſcene ſhall ſhe tears tender thee thefe theſe thine thoſe thou thought thro train trembling turn vain virtue voice waves wealth whofe Whoſe wife wild wind wretch yield youth
Page 316 - 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 464 - Tis folly to be wise. HYMN TO ADVERSITY DAUGHTER of Jove, relentless power, Thou tamer of the human breast, Whose iron scourge and torturing hour The bad affright, afflict the best ! Bound in thy adamantine chain The proud are taught to taste of pain, And purple tyrants vainly groan With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone. When...
Page 406 - Be smooth, ye rocks! ye rapid floods, give way! The Saviour comes! by ancient bards foretold: Hear him, ye deaf! and all ye blind, behold! He from thick films shall purge the visual ray, And on the sightless eyeball pour the day: Tis he th' obstructed paths of sound shall clear And bid new music charm th' unfolding ear: The dumb shall sing, the lame his crutch forego, And leap exulting like the bounding roe.
Page 42 - Ten thousand thousand precious gifts My daily thanks employ ; Nor is the least a cheerful heart, That tastes those gifts with joy.
Page 318 - Though restless still themselves, a lulling murmur made. Joined to the prattle of the purling rills, Were heard the lowing herds along the vale, And flocks loud-bleating from the distant hills, And vacant shepherds piping in the dale : And now and then sweet Philomel would wail, Or stock-doves...
Page 210 - Sir Balaam now, he lives like other folks, He takes his chirping pint, and cracks his jokes. " Live like yourself," was soon my lady's word ; And lo ! two puddings smok'd upon the board.
Page 208 - In the worst inn's worst room, with mat half-hung, The floors of plaster, and the walls of dung, On once a flock-bed, but repair'd with straw, With tape-tied curtains, never meant to draw, The George and Garter dangling from that bed Where tawdry yellow strove with dirty red, Great Villiers lies — alas!
Page 208 - Who builds a church to God, and not to fame, Will never mark the marble with his name...
Page 201 - We find our tenets just the same at last. Both fairly owning Riches, in effect, No grace of Heaven or token of th' elect; Given to the fool, the mad, the vain, the evil, To Ward, to Waters, Chartres, and the devil.
Page 336 - Full oft by holy feet our ground was trod, Of clerks good plenty here you mote espy. A little, round, fat, oily man of God, Was one I chiefly mark'd among the fry : He had a roguish twinkle in his eye, And shone all glittering with ungodly dew, If a tight damsel chaunc'd to trippen by ; Which when observ'd, he shrunk into his mew, And straight would recollect his piety anew.