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Libros Libros 11 - 20 de 189 sobre Fair laughs the morn and soft the zephyr blows, While, proudly riding o'er the azure...
" Fair laughs the morn and soft the zephyr blows, While, proudly riding o'er the azure realm, In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes, Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm, Regardless of the sweeping Whirlwind's sway... "
The Poetical Works of Thomas Gray - Página 46
por Thomas Gray, John Mitford - 1851 - 223 páginas
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An Analytical Inquiry Into the Principles of Taste

Richard Payne Knight - 1806 - 473 páginas
...behind. Mighty victor, mighty lord, Low on his funeral couch he lies ! No pitying heart, no eye, afford A tear to grace his obsequies. Is the sable warrior fled ? Thy son is gorie. He rests among the dead. The swarm, that in thy noontide beam were born ? Gone to salute the...
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The Works of Thomas Gray; Containing His Poems, and Correspondence ..., Volumen1

Thomas Gray - 1807 - 316 páginas
...Victor, mighty Lord, " J Low on his funeral couch he lies ! " No pitying heart, no eye, afford " A Uar to grace his obsequies. " Is the sable § Warrior..." The Swarm, that in thy noon-tide beam were born ? " Gone to salute the rising Morn. " Fair || laughs the Morn, and soft the Zephyr blows, " While proudly...
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Censura Literaria: Containing Titles, Abstracts, and Opinions of ..., Volumen4

Sir Egerton Brydges - 1807
...exercised his sagacity on the characters of those, whom for the most part he suffered to surround him. " He rests among the dead! The swarm, that in thy noon-tide beam were bora, Gone to salute the rising mom!" • Hor. O<1.9. Lib. iv, For me, who never received favour or...
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An Analytical Inquiry Into the Principles of Taste

Richard Payne Knight - 1808 - 476 páginas
...lies ! No pitying heart, no eye, afford A tear to grace his obsequies. Is the sable warrior fifed ? Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead. The swarm, that in thy noontide beam were born ? Gone to salute the rising morn. Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows, While, proudly riding...
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Specimens of the British poets

British poets - 1809
...II.fi. Mighty victor, mighty lord, Low on his fun'ral couch he lies! Ho pitying heart, no eye, afford A tear to grace his obsequies ! Is the sable warrior...dead. The swarm that in thy noontide beam were born, Gone to salute the rising morn : Fair langhs the morn, and soft the aephyr blows, While prondly riding...
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The muses' bower, embellished with the beauties of English poetry, Volumen1

English poetry - 1809
...Mighty Victor, mighty Lord, " Low on his funeral couch he lies !| " No pitying heart, no eye, afford " A tear to grace his obsequies. " Is the sable warrior]]..." The Swarm, that in thy noon-tide beam were born ? " Gone to salute the rising Morn. » " Fair laughs the Morn, and soft the Zephyr blows, " While proudly...
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Elegant Extracts, Volúmenes1-2

Vicesimus Knox - 1809
...Mighty Victor, mighty Lord, " Low on his fun'ral couch he lies! " No pitying heart, no eye, afford " l we beg thee, to conceal from sight Those acts of goodness which themselves requite. O let us stil dexi. ' The swarm that in thy noon-tide b«in wtrt 1 Gone to salute the rising morn. ("born? ' Fair...
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The Works of the English Poets, from Chaucer to Cowper: Including ..., Volumen14

Alexander Chalmers - 1810
...Mighty Victor, mighty Lord, Low on his funeral couch he lies '* ! No pitying heart, no eye, afford A tear to grace his obsequies. Is the sable warrior...gone. He rests among the dead. The swarm, that in the noon-tide beam were bqjrn; Gone to salute the rising Morn. Fair laughs the Morn ", and soft the...
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The Works of the English Poets, from Chaucer to Cowper: Including ..., Volumen14

Alexander Chalmers - 1810
...he lies 'a ! No pitying heart, no eye, afford A tear to grace his obsequies. Is the sahle warrior '7 fled ? Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead. The swarm, that in the noon-tide beam were bom; Oone to salute the rising Morn, [•'air laughs the Mom 1B, and soft the...
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Some Account of London, Volumen1

Thomas Pennant - 1813 - 660 páginas
...bard ! Mighty victor, mighty lord, Low on his funeral couch he lies! No pitying heart, no eye, afford A tear to grace his obsequies. Is the sable warrior...! The swarm, that in thy noon-tide beam were born ? Gone to salute the rising morn. Fair laughs the morn, and soft the Zephyr blows, While, proudly riding...
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