The Poetical Works of W. Collins

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Leavitt, Trow & Company, 1848 - 144 páginas
 

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Página 68 - midst its dreary dells, Whose walls more awful nod By thy religious gleams. Or if chill blustering winds or driving rain Prevent my willing feet, be mine the hut That, from the mountain's side, Views wilds and swelling floods, And hamlets brown, and dim-discover'd spires; And hears their simple bell; and marks o'er all Thy dewy fingers draw The gradual dusky veil.
Página 26 - ... walls I bent my way." At that dead hour the silent asp shall creep, If aught of rest I find, upon my sleep : Or some swoln serpent twist his scales around, And wake to anguish with a burning wound. Thrice happy they, the wise contented poor, From lust of wealth, and dread of death secure! They tempt no deserts, and no griefs they find ; Peace rules the day, where reason rules the mind. " Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day,
Página 77 - He threw his blood-stained sword, in thunder, down; And with a withering look, The war-denouncing trumpet took, And blew a blast so loud and dread, Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe...
Página 53 - 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.
Página 52 - Nigh spher'd in heaven, its native strains could hear; On which that ancient trump he reach'd was hung : Thither oft, his glory greeting, From Waller's myrtle shades retreating, With many a vow from Hope's aspiring tongue, My trembling feet his guiding steps pursue ; In vain — Such bliss to one alone, Of all the sons of soul, was known ; And Heaven, and Fancy, kindred powers, Have now o'erturn'd th' inspiring bowers; Or curtain'd close such scene from ev'ry future view.
Página 67 - 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 born in heedless Hum: Now teach me, Maid compos'd, To breathe some soften'd Strain, Whose Numbers stealing thro' thy dark'ning Vale, May not unseemly with its Stillness suit, As musing slow, I hail Thy genial lov'd Return!
Página 91 - Then maids and youths shall linger here, And while its sounds at distance swell, Shall sadly seem in Pity's ear To hear the woodland pilgrim's knell. Remembrance oft shall haunt the shore When Thames in summer wreaths is drest, And oft suspend the dashing oar To bid his gentle spirit rest...
Página 109 - When in one night, ere glimpse of morn, His shadowy flail hath threshed the corn That ten day-labourers could not end; Then lies him down the lubber fiend, And, stretched out all the chimney's length, Basks at the fire his hairy strength, And crop-full out of doors he flings, Ere the first cock his matin rings.
Página 142 - Who slept in buds the day, And many a nymph who wreathes her brows with sedge, And sheds the freshening dew, and lovelier still, The pensive pleasures sweet Prepare thy shadowy car.
Página 69 - ... fingers draw The gradual dusky veil, While Spring shall pour his showers, as oft he wont> And bathe thy breathing tresses, meekest Eve ! While Summer loves to sport Beneath thy lingering light : While sallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves, Or Winter yelling through the troublous air, Affrights thy shrinking train, And rudely rends thy robes : So long, regardful of thy quiet rule, Shall Fancy, Friendship, Science, smiling Peace, Thy gentlest influence own, And love thy favourite name ! ODE TO...

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