What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
Amyntor ariſe behold beſt blaſt bleſs'd bliſs bluſhing boaſt boſom breaſt cauſe charms chearful cloſe conſcious courſe deſcend deſpair diſtant eaſe ev'ry eyes fair fame fate figh filent firſt foreſt grief haſte heart Heav'n himſelf juſt laſt loſs loſt moſt mourn Muſe muſt numbers º º o'er pain paſſion paſt plain pleaſe pleaſure pow'r praiſe purſue raiſe reaſon repoſe reſt riſe roſe ſacred ſad ſaid ſame ſaw ſay ſcene ſcorn ſea ſecret ſecure ſee ſeems ſeen ſenſe ſhade ſhall ſhame ſhare ſhe ſhine ſhore ſhould ſkies ſky ſlave ſleep ſmile ſoft ſolemn ſome ſong ſons ſoon ſoothe ſorrow ſoul ſound ſpeak ſpirit ſpoke ſpread ſpring ſtand ſtars ſtate ſteps ſtill ſtood ſtorm ſtrain ſtream ſuch ſun ſure ſwain ſweet ſwell taſte tears thee theſe thine thoſe thou thouſand thro trembling virtue waſte Whilſt whoſe wiſe wiſh youth
Page 145 - 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 canst read) the lay, Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Page 149 - I have found out a gift for my fair; I have found where the wood-pigeons breed; But let me that plunder forbear, She will say 'twas a barbarous deed...
Page 142 - 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 141 - 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 : Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tower, The moping owl does to the Moon complain Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, Molest her ancient solitary reign.
Page 145 - 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 147 - I fed on the smiles of my dear? They tell me, my favourite maid, The pride of that valley, is flown; Alas ! where with her I have stray'd, I could wander with pleasure, alone.
Page 142 - 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 148 - But with tendrils of woodbine is bound : Not a beech's more beautiful green, But a sweet-briar entwines it around. Not my fields, in the prime of the year, More charms than my cattle unfold : Not a brook that is limpid and clear, But it glitters with fishes of gold. One would think she might like to retire To the bow'r I have labour'd to rear...
Page 442 - War, he sung, is toil and trouble; Honour, but an empty bubble; Never ending, still beginning, Fighting still, and still destroying; If the world be worth thy winning, Think, O think it worth enjoying! Lovely Thais sits beside thee, Take the good the gods provide thee!