The Parnassian Garland; Or, Beauties of Modern Poetry: Consisting of Upwards of Two Hundred Pieces, Selected from the Works of the Most Distinguished Poets of the Present Age

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M. Carey, 1814 - 288 páginas
 

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Página 98 - What time the pea puts on the bloom, Thou fliest thy vocal vale : An annual guest in other lands, Another Spring to hail. Sweet bird! thy bower is ever green, Thy sky is ever clear. Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, No winter in thy year. O could I fly, I'd fly
Página 154 - his wealth as wish can claim ; Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch concentred all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust from whence he sprung, "Unwept, unhonoured, and unsung! Walter Scott.
Página 154 - This is my own—my native land ?" Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd, As home his footsteps he hath turn'd, From wandering on a foreign strand ? If such there breathe, go mark him well, For him—no
Página 27 - Minstrel: AH! who can tell how hard it is to climb The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar, Ah ! who can tell, how many a soul sublime Has felt the influence of malignant star; And waged with fortune an eternal war ! Checked by the scoff of
Página 245 - Seemed to have known a better day, The Harp, his sole remaining joy, Was carried by an orphan boy. The last of all the bards was he, Who sung of border chivalry, For well a-day ! their date was fled, His tuneful brethren all were dead. And he neglected and oppress'd,
Página 34 - yet remain, Which heav'n may hear, nor deem religion vain, Still raise for good the supplicating voice; But leave to heav'n the measure and the choice. Safe in his pow'r, whose eyes discern afar, The secret ambush of a specious pray'r. Implore his aid—in his decisions rest
Página 40 - In pleasure's lap carest, Yet think not all the rich and great, Are likewise truly blest: But oh! what crouds in ev'ry land Are wretched and forlorn; Through weary life this lesson learn, That man was made to mourn! Many and sharp the num'rous ills Inwoven with our frame; More pointed still we make ourselves
Página 245 - their date was fled, His tuneful brethren all were dead. And he neglected and oppress'd, Wished to be with them and at rest. No more on prancing palfrey borne He carolled light as lark at morn; No longer courted and caress'd, High placed in hall, a welcome guest, He poured to lord and lady gay, The unpremeditated lay.
Página 272 - sworn a solemn oath, John Barleycorn was dead. But the cheerful Spring came kindly on, And show'rs began to fall; John Barleycorn got up again The sultry suns of summer came And he grew thick and strong: His head well arm'd with pointed spears, That no one should him wrong. The sober Autumn enter'd mild,
Página 249 - thou hast been, He is—what thou shalt be! The clouds and sunbeams o'er his eye That once their shade and glory threw, Have left in yonder silent sky, No vestige where they flew! The annals of the human race, Their ruin since the world began Of Him afford no other trace Than

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