The Works of the English Poets: YoungH. Hughs, 1779 |
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Página 4
... lives , But legacies in bloffom ? Our lean foil , Luxuriant grown , and rank in vanities , From friends interr'd beneath ; a rich manure ! Like other worms , we banquet on the dead ; Like other worms , fhall we crawl on , nor know Our ...
... lives , But legacies in bloffom ? Our lean foil , Luxuriant grown , and rank in vanities , From friends interr'd beneath ; a rich manure ! Like other worms , we banquet on the dead ; Like other worms , fhall we crawl on , nor know Our ...
Página 11
... live ) He falls on his own scythe ; nor falls alone ; 300 305 His greatest foe falls with him ; Time , and he Who murder'd all Time's offspring , Death , expire . 310 Time was ! Eternity now reigns alone ! Aweful Eternity ! offended ...
... live ) He falls on his own scythe ; nor falls alone ; 300 305 His greatest foe falls with him ; Time , and he Who murder'd all Time's offspring , Death , expire . 310 Time was ! Eternity now reigns alone ! Aweful Eternity ! offended ...
Página 14
... lives in vanity , and dies in woe . Joy , amidst ills , corroborates , exalts ; ' Tis joy and conquest ; joy , and virtue too . A noble fortitude in ills , delights 5 Heaven , Heaven , earth , ourselves ; ' tis duty , 14 YOUNG'S POEMS .
... lives in vanity , and dies in woe . Joy , amidst ills , corroborates , exalts ; ' Tis joy and conquest ; joy , and virtue too . A noble fortitude in ills , delights 5 Heaven , Heaven , earth , ourselves ; ' tis duty , 14 YOUNG'S POEMS .
Página 15
... live . 420 What spoke proud passion ? — “ * Wish my being loft ? " Prefumptuous ! blafphemous ! abfurd ! and falfe ! The triumph of my foul is - That I am ; And therefore that I may be - what ? Lorenzo ! Look inward , and look deep ...
... live . 420 What spoke proud passion ? — “ * Wish my being loft ? " Prefumptuous ! blafphemous ! abfurd ! and falfe ! The triumph of my foul is - That I am ; And therefore that I may be - what ? Lorenzo ! Look inward , and look deep ...
Página 34
... lives . In Chriftian hearts , O for a Pagan zeal ! A needful , but opprobrious prayer ! as much Our Ardour Lefs , as Greater is our Light . How monftrous This in Morals ! Scarce more strange 995 Would this Phenomenon in nature ftrike ...
... lives . In Chriftian hearts , O for a Pagan zeal ! A needful , but opprobrious prayer ! as much Our Ardour Lefs , as Greater is our Light . How monftrous This in Morals ! Scarce more strange 995 Would this Phenomenon in nature ftrike ...
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Términos y frases comunes
Æther art thou beams beneath blefs blifs boaft boaſt boundleſs breaſt Britain Britain's Britannia's caufe cauſe Codrus darkneſs death defcend diftant divine dread earth eternal facred fafe fame fate fatire fcene feas feen fenfe fhall fhine fhould fing firſt fkies flain flame fleep fmile fome fong fons forrow foul fpirits ftars ftill ftreams ftrike fublime fuch fwell genius glorious glory gods golden heart heaven human immortal juſt laſt lefs Lorenzo luftre man's mankind mighty moft mortal moſt Mufe Muſe muſt nature's ne'er night numbers o'er paffion pain paſt peace Pindar pleaſure praife praiſe prefent pride profe proud raiſe reafon refign'd reigns rife ſcene ſhall ſhine ſkies ſmall ſmile ſphere ſpread ſtand ſtars ſtate ſtill ſtorm thee thefe theſe thine thofe thoſe thou thought thouſand throne thunder Trade virtue Voltaire whofe Whoſe wing wiſdom
Pasajes populares
Página 6 - By the loud trumpet summon'd to the charge, See, all the formidable sons of fire, Eruptions, earthquakes, comets, lightnings, play Their various engines ; all at once disgorge Their blazing magazines ; and take, by storm, This poor terrestrial citadel of man.
Página 4 - What is the world itself? thy world — a grave. Where is the dust that has not been alive ? The spade, the plough, disturb our ancestors. From human mould we reap our daily bread. The globe around earth's hollow surface shakes, And is the ceiling of her sleeping sons. O'er devastation we blind revels keep : Whole buried towns support the dancer's heel.
Página 74 - Man's rich restorative ; his balmy bath, That supples, lubricates, and keeps in play The various movements of this nice machine, Which asks such frequent periods of repair. When tir'd with vain rotations of the day, Sleep winds us up for the succeeding dawn ; Fresh we spin on, till sickness clogs our wheels, Or Death quite breaks the spring, and motion ends.
Página 1 - Then cheers his heart with what his fate affords, And chants his sonnet to deceive the time, Till the due season calls him to repose : Thus I...
Página 205 - If satire charms, strike faults, but spare the man : 'Tis dull to be as witty as you can. Satire recoils whenever charg'd too high ; Round your own fame the fatal splinters fly. As the soft plume gives swiftness to the dart, Good breeding sends the satire to the heart.
Página 214 - In aweful ruin, like Rome's fenate, fall, The prey and worfhip of the wondering Gaul. No doubt, to genius fome reward is due, (Excluding that, were fatirizing you ;) But yet, believe thy undefigning friend, When truth and genius for thy choice contend, Though both have weight when in the balance caft, Let probity be firft, and parts the laft.
Página 50 - Who bid brute matter's restive lump assume Such various forms, and gave it wings to fly ? Has matter innate motion ! Then each atom, Asserting its indisputable right To dance, would form an universe of dust.
Página 8 - From tenfold darkness ; sudden as the spark From smitten steel; from nitrous grain, the blaze. Man, starting from his couch, shall sleep no more ! The day is broke, which never more shall close...
Página 26 - From urns unnumber'd, down the steep of heaven, Streams to a point, and centres in my sight ! Nor tarries there ; I feel it at my heart. My heart, at once, it humbles, and exalts; Lays it in dust, and calls it to the skies.
Página 9 - Heaven opens in their bosoms : but how rare, Ah me ! that magnanimity, how rare ! What hero, like the man who stands himself; Who dares to meet his naked heart alone ; Who hears, intrepid, the full charge it brings, Resolv'd to silence future murmurs there ? The coward flies- and, flying, is undone. (Art thou a coward ? no :) the coward flies ; Thinks, but thinks slightly ; asks, but fears to know : Asks