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The English Poets: Selections with Critical Introductions by ..., Volumen3
Thomas Humphry Ward
Sin vista previa disponible - 2018
The English Poets: Selections with Critical Introductions by Various Writers ...
Thomas Humphry Ward
Sin vista previa disponible - 2015
The English Poets: Selections With Critical Introductions by Various Writers ...
Thomas Humphry Ward
Sin vista previa disponible - 2019
admiration Ambrose Philips auld beauty beneath Birks of Aberfeldy blest born breast breath Burns charm Chatterton Cowper dear death delight Dryden Dunciad Eclogues English English poetry Epistle ev'ry eyes fair fame fate feel flowers fool frae genius George Saintsbury grace grave Gray Gray's Grongar Hill hand happy hear heart Heaven Horace Walpole human King labour lassie literary live Lord Lord Hervey lyre lyric mind muse nature ne'er never night numbers nymph o'er once pain passion perhaps Pindaric pleasure poem poet poet's poetical poetry poor Pope Pope's praise pride prose rhyme rise round satire sense shade sing smile song soul spirit Spleen sweet taste tear tell thee things thou thought thro toil truth Twas verse virtue weel Whig wind write youth
Página 263 - Other refuge have I none — Hangs my helpless soul on Thee : Leave, ah ! leave me not alone, Still support and comfort me ! , All my trust on Thee is stay'd, All my help from Thee I bring: Cover my defenceless head With the shadow of thy wing.
Página 332 - Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire; Hands, that the rod of empire might have swayed, Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre. But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page Rich with the spoils of time did ne'er unroll; Chill Penury repressed their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul.
Página 287 - How sleep the brave who sink to rest By all their country's wishes blest! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung, By forms unseen their dirge is sung; There Honour comes, a pilgrim grey, To bless the turf that wraps their clay; And Freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there!
Página 288 - O'erhang his wavy bed: Now air is hush'd, save where the weak-eyed bat With short shrill shriek flits by on leathern wing, Or where the beetle winds His small but sullen horn, As oft he rises, 'midst the twilight path Against the pilgrim borne in heedless hum...
Página 333 - The applause of listening senates to command, The threats of pain and ruin to despise, To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, And read their history in a nation's eyes, Their lot forbade : nor circumscribed alone Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined ; Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind...
Página 567 - Our toils obscure, and a' that ; The rank is but the guinea stamp ; The man's the gowd for a' that. What tho' on hamely fare we dine, Wear hodden gray, and a' that ; Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine, A man's a man for a' that, For a
Página 532 - November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh ; The short'ning winter-day is near a close ; The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh ; The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose : The toil-worn Cotter frae his labour goes, This night his weekly moil is at an end, Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes, Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend, And weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend. At length his lonely cot appears in view, Beneath the shelter of an aged tree ; Th' expectant...
Página 335 - Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.' THE EPITAPH Here rests his head upon the lap of earth A youth to fortune and to fame unknown: Fair science frowned not on his humble birth, And melancholy marked him for her own. Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, . Heaven did a recompense as largely send: He gave to misery all he had, a tear: He gained from heaven ('twas all he wished) a friend.
Página 473 - Toll for the brave! Brave Kempenfelt is gone; His last sea-fight is fought; His work of glory done. It was not in the battle; No tempest gave the shock; She sprang no fatal leak ; She ran upon no rock.