Poems

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M. Jones, 1803 - 235 páginas
 

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Página 47 - Take, holy earth! all that my soul holds dear: Take that best gift which Heaven so lately gave : To Bristol's fount I bore with trembling care Her faded form; she bowed to taste the wave, And died.
Página 30 - Behold each neighb'ring monarch's tomb ; The trophied arch, the breathing bust, The laurel shades their sacred dust: While thou, vile Out-cast, on this hostile plain, Moulder'st, a vulgar corse, among the vulgar slain.
Página 42 - Or caught the orient blush of quick surprise, How sweetly mutable, how brightly wild, The liquid lustre darted from her eyes ? Each look, each motion wak'da new-born grace, That o'er her form its transient glory cast : Some lovelier wonder soon usurp'd the place, Chas'd by a charm still lovelier than the last.
Página 138 - gainst Heav'n's will To violate their echoes : Patience here, Her meek hands folded on her modest breast, In mute submission lifts th' adoring eye, Ev'n to the storm that wrecks her.
Página 16 - When darkness, brooding on thy sight, Exiled the sov'reign lamp of light ; Say, what could then one cheering hope diffuse ? What friends were thine, save Mem'ry and the Muse ? Hence the rich spoils, thy studious youth Caught from the stores of ancient truth : Hence all thy classic...
Página 47 - Ev'n from the grave thou shalt have power to charm. Bid them be chaste, be innocent, like thee ; Bid them in duty's sphere as meekly move ; And if as fair, from vanity as free ; As firm in friendship, and as fond in love.
Página 191 - Julius feel, when, fir'd by it, our fathers First drove him recreant to his ships ; and ill Had far'd his second landing, but that fate Silenc'd the master Bard, who led the song.
Página 9 - Is hung on high, to poison half mankind. All fame is foreign but of true desert, Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart...
Página 12 - And every lily droop'd its silver head. Sad sympathy! yet sure his rightful meed Who charm'd all nature : well might Nature mourn Through all her choicest sweets Musaeus dead.
Página 198 - Now, thanks to the bright star that rul'd his birth ; Yes, he will soon return to claim my blessing, And he shall have it pour'd in tears of joy On his bold breast ! methought I heard a step : Is it not his ? BARD. 'Tis some of our own train, And as I think, they lead six Romans captive. CHORUS, CARACTACUS, CAPTIVES.

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