A collection of poems on divine and moral subjects, selected from various authors by W. Giles
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almighty angels appear arms bear beauty behold blifs breaſt breath bright charms death deep divine dread earth eternal eyes face facred fair faith fall fame fate fear feel fhall fhine field fight fing fire flame flow fome fons foul ftill fuch give glory grace grow hand happy head hear heart heaven heavenly hope hour human John kind king land laws light live loft Lord mind mourn muſt nature night o'er once pain paths peace pleaſure praiſe pride rage reign rife round SAVIOUR ſcene ſhall ſhould ſkies ſpread ſtill tears thee theſe thine things thoſe thou thought thro throne truth turn vain virtue voice whence whofe whole Whoſe wide winds yield
Page 292 - 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 289 - 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, Awaits alike th' inevitable hour: — The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Page 293 - 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 288 - Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. 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.
Page 139 - The swain in barren deserts with surprise Sees lilies spring, and sudden verdure rise ; And starts, amidst the thirsty wilds to hear New falls of water murmuring in his ear. On rifted rocks, the dragon's late abodes, The green reed trembles, and the bulrush nods.
Page 55 - FAR in a wild, unknown to public view, From youth to age a reverend hermit grew; The moss his bed, the cave his humble cell, His food the fruits, his drink the crystal well: Remote from man, with God he pass'd the days Prayer all his business, all his pleasure praise.
Page 290 - Some village-Hampden, that with dauntlefs breaft The little Tyrant of his fields withftood; Some mute inglorious Milton here may reft, Some Cromwell guiltlefs of his country's blood.. Th' applaufe of lift'ning fenates to command, The threats of pain and ruin to defpife, To fcatter plenty o'er a fmiling land, And read their...
Page 58 - Slow creaking turns the door with jealous care, And half he welcomes in the shivering pair...
Page 288 - 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 56 - Now sunk the sun ; the closing hour of day Came onward, mantled o'er with sober...