 Impatience stung the warbler's soul, Greatly he spurn'd the mean control ; And from the verdant turf uprear'd, He on his friend contemptuous leer'd ; Stretch'd his lean neck, and wildly stared, His dulcet pitch-pipe then prepared, His flaky ears prick'd...  Oriental Tales: Translated Into English Verse - Página 6por John Hoppner - 1805 - 123 páginasVista completa - Acerca de este libro
 | Stephen Jones, Charles Molloy Westmacott - 1807 - 406 páginas
...my fong — " " O paft pretence ! The ear muft be dcpriv'd of fenfer" Rejoin'd the Stag — " made of dull clay The heart that melts not at thy lay !...But hold — my ardent prayer attend, Nor yet with longs the welkin rend ; Still the fweet murmur in thy throat, Prelufive of the thrilling note; Nor... | |
 | Stephen Jones, Charles Molloy Westmacott - 1807 - 428 páginas
...fong — " " O paft pretence ! The ear muft be depriv'd of fenfe," Rejoin'd the Stag — " made-of dull clay The heart that melts not at thy lay ! But hold — my ardent prayer attend, . Nor yet with fongs the welkin rend ; Still the fweet murmur in thy throat, Prelufive of the thrilling note ; Nor... | |
 | Richard Alfred Davenport - 1824 - 442 páginas
...yet with songs the welkin rend ; • The Persian name of Hie nightingale. Still the sweet murmur of thy throat, Prelusive of the thrilling note ! Nor...repent thee, when too late, And moan thy pains and well earn'd fate.' Impatience stung the warbler's soul, Greatly he spurn'd the mean control, And from... | |
 | Richard Alfred Davenport - 1824 - 406 páginas
...Rut hold, my ardent prayer attend, A ot yet with songs the welkin rend ; Still the sweet murmur of thy throat, Prelusive of the thrilling note ! Nor...repent thee, when too late, And moan thy pains and well earn'd fate.' Impatience stung the warbler's soul, Greatly he spurn'd the mean control, And from... | |
 | New elegant extracts - 1827 - 414 páginas
...! But hold, my ardent prayer attend, Not yet with songs the welkin rend; Still the sweet murmur of thy throat, Prelusive of the thrilling note ! Nor...repent thee, when too late, And moan thy pains and well earn'd fate.' Impatience stung the warbler's soul, Greatly he spurn'd the mean control, And from... | |
| |
