Specimens of the British poets, Volume 2 |
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Page 69
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 ! Poets themselves must fall like those they sung , Deaf the ...
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 ! Poets themselves must fall like those they sung , Deaf the ...
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appear arms beauty beneath bliss bloom breast breath bright charms dear death delight dreams earth Ev'n eyes face fair fall fame fate fear fire flow fond give grace green groves hand happy head hear heart Heav'n hope hour kind land leaves light live look lord lost maid mind morn Muse nature never night o'er once pain pale peace plain pleasure poor praise pride rage rest rise round scene seen sense shade shine sighs skies sleep smile soft song soon sorrow soul sound spread spring sweet tears tender thee thou thought thro toil train trembling true turn vain vale virtue wander wave wealth wild wind wish wretch youth
Popular passages
Page 198 - 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 343 - 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 250 - 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 195 - 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 243 - 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 194 - 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 227 - 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 334 - 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...
Bibliographic information
| Title | Specimens of the British poets, Volume 2 Volume 2 of Specimens of the British Poets from Lord Surrey to Cowper Specimens of the British poets, British poets |
| Author | British poets |
| Publisher | W. Suttaby, 1809 |
| Original from | Oxford University |
| Digitized | Sep 26, 2006 |
| Export Citation | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |