Specimens of the British poets, Volume 2W. Suttaby, 1809 - English poetry |
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Page 141
... oblivion will your sorrows steep , ' Your cares , your toils ; will steep you in a sea • Of full delight : oh come ... sweet slumbers start , With sounds that are a misery to hear : But all is calm , as would delight the heart ' Of ...
... oblivion will your sorrows steep , ' Your cares , your toils ; will steep you in a sea • Of full delight : oh come ... sweet slumbers start , With sounds that are a misery to hear : But all is calm , as would delight the heart ' Of ...
Page 144
... sweet torpor he was plunged deep , Ne could himself from ceaseless yawning keep : While o'er his eyes the drowsy ... oblivion of vile earthly care ; Fair gladsome waking thoughts , and joyous dreams more fair . This rite perform'd ...
... sweet torpor he was plunged deep , Ne could himself from ceaseless yawning keep : While o'er his eyes the drowsy ... oblivion of vile earthly care ; Fair gladsome waking thoughts , and joyous dreams more fair . This rite perform'd ...
Page 172
... sweet oblivion lulls the land ; Of all , which at Vienna passes , As ignorant as • • Brass is : And scorning rascals to caress , Extol the days of good queen Bess , When first Tobacco blest our isle , Then think of other queens -- and ...
... sweet oblivion lulls the land ; Of all , which at Vienna passes , As ignorant as • • Brass is : And scorning rascals to caress , Extol the days of good queen Bess , When first Tobacco blest our isle , Then think of other queens -- and ...
Page 215
... Oblivion's gloom for ever now consign'd ? At least , ye Nine , her spotless name " Tis yours from death to save ... sweet and sad , Thou , plaintive Muse , whom o'er his Laura's urn Unhappy Petrarch call'd to mourn ; O come , and ...
... Oblivion's gloom for ever now consign'd ? At least , ye Nine , her spotless name " Tis yours from death to save ... sweet and sad , Thou , plaintive Muse , whom o'er his Laura's urn Unhappy Petrarch call'd to mourn ; O come , and ...
Page 278
... sweet oblivion of his daily care ; No more the farmer's news , the barber's tale , No more the woodman's ballad shall prevail ; No more the smith , his dusky brow shall clear , Relax his pond'rous strength , and lean to hear ; The host ...
... sweet oblivion of his daily care ; No more the farmer's news , the barber's tale , No more the woodman's ballad shall prevail ; No more the smith , his dusky brow shall clear , Relax his pond'rous strength , and lean to hear ; The host ...
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Common terms and phrases
Ælla beauty behold beneath blest bliss bloom bosom breast breath bright charms cheek cheerful dear death delight dread dydd e'er ECLOGUE Eurydice Ev'n ev'ry eyes fair fame Fancy fate fear flowers fond glow golden reign grace grief groves hand hear heart Heav'n hour JOHN HENRY MOORE lord lov'd lyre maid maze of Fate mind morn mournful Muse Nature's ne'er night numbers nymph o'er pain pale peace pensive Petrarch pity pleas'd pleasure pow'r praise pray'r pride proud rage raptures reign rills rise round sacred scene scorn shade shine sighs sing skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound sprite strain sweet sweet oblivion sylphs tear tender Thalestris thee thine thou thought thro toil trembling Twas vale virtue wave weep wild wind wings wretch wyfe wylle wythe ynne youth
Popular passages
Page 192 - A stranger yet to pain! I feel the gales that from ye blow A momentary bliss bestow, As waving fresh their gladsome wing My weary soul they seem to soothe, And, redolent of joy and youth, To breathe a second spring.
Page 325 - I forget the hallow'd grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met, To live one day of parting love? Eternity will not efface Those records dear of transports past; Thy image at our last embrace; Ah ! little thought we 'twas our last ! Ayr gurgling kiss'd his pebbled shore, O'erhung with wild woods, thick'ning green; The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar, Twined amorous round the raptured scene.
Page 239 - And thou, sweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid, Still first to fly where sensual joys invade ; Unfit in these degenerate times of shame To catch the heart, or strike for honest fame ; Dear charming nymph, neglected and decried, My shame in crowds, my solitary pride ; Thou source of all my bliss, and all my woe, That found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so...
Page 15 - Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows ; But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar: When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, The line too labours, and the words move slow : Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain, Flies o'er the unbending corn, and skims along the main. Hear how Timotheus...
Page 14 - In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold; Alike fantastic, if too new, or old: Be not the first by whom the new are tried, Nor yet the last to lay the old aside.
Page 189 - Await alike th' inevitable hour. The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault, If memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. Can storied urn, or animated bust, Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ? Can...
Page 239 - tis hard to combat, learns to fly! For him no wretches, born to work and weep, Explore the mine, or tempt the dangerous deep...
Page 188 - THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. 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 221 - Condemn'da needy supplicant to wait, While ladies interpose, and slaves debate. But did not Chance at length her error mend? Did no subverted empire mark his end? Did rival monarchs give the fatal wound? Or hostile millions press him to the ground? His fall was destin'd to a barren strand, A petty fortress, and a dubious hand; He left the name, at which the world grew pale, To point a moral, or adorn a tale.
Page 316 - My lov'd, my honour'd, much respected friend! No mercenary bard his homage pays; With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end, My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise: To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays, The lowly train in life's sequester'd scene, The native feelings strong, the guileless ways, What Aiken in a cottage would have been; Ah! tho' his worth unknown, far happier there I ween! November chill blaws loud wi...