Specimens of the British poets, 2. köideW. Suttaby, 1809 |
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Page 18
... sense preserve what beauty gains ; That men may say , when we the front - box grace , Behold the first in virtue as in face ! Oh ! if to dance all night , and dress all day , Charm'd the small - pox , or chas'd old age away ; Who would ...
... sense preserve what beauty gains ; That men may say , when we the front - box grace , Behold the first in virtue as in face ! Oh ! if to dance all night , and dress all day , Charm'd the small - pox , or chas'd old age away ; Who would ...
Page 23
... precept fail'd to move ? Too soon they taught me ' twas no sin to love : Back through the paths of pleasing sense I ran , Nor wish'd an angel whom I lov'd a man . Dim and remote the joys of saints I see ; ALEXANDER POPE . 23.
... precept fail'd to move ? Too soon they taught me ' twas no sin to love : Back through the paths of pleasing sense I ran , Nor wish'd an angel whom I lov'd a man . Dim and remote the joys of saints I see ; ALEXANDER POPE . 23.
Page 27
... sense , And love the ' offender , yet detest the ' offence ? How the dear object from the crime remove , Or how distinguish penitence from love ? Unequal task ! a passion to resign , For hearts so touch'd , so pierc'd , so lost as mine ...
... sense , And love the ' offender , yet detest the ' offence ? How the dear object from the crime remove , Or how distinguish penitence from love ? Unequal task ! a passion to resign , For hearts so touch'd , so pierc'd , so lost as mine ...
Page 31
... if greater want of skill Appear in writing or in judging ill ; But of the two less dangerous is the ' offence To tire our patience than mislead our sense : Some few in that , but numbers err in this ALEXANDER POPE . 31.
... if greater want of skill Appear in writing or in judging ill ; But of the two less dangerous is the ' offence To tire our patience than mislead our sense : Some few in that , but numbers err in this ALEXANDER POPE . 31.
Page 32
... sense defac'd . Some are bewilder'd in the maze of schools , And some made coxcombs Nature meant but fools : In search of wit these lose their common sense , And then turn critics in their own defence : Each burns alike , who can or ...
... sense defac'd . Some are bewilder'd in the maze of schools , And some made coxcombs Nature meant but fools : In search of wit these lose their common sense , And then turn critics in their own defence : Each burns alike , who can or ...
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Common terms and phrases
beauty behold beneath blest bliss bloom bosom breast breath bright charms cheerful dear death delight dread dreams dydd e'er ECLOGUE Eurydice Ev'n ev'ry eyes fair fame Fancy fate fear flowers fond gentle glow golden reign grace grief groves hand hear heart Heav'n hour JOHN HENRY MOORE lord lov'd lyre maid maze of Fate mind MONODY morn mournful Muse Nature's ne'er night numbers nymph o'er pain pale peace pensive Petrarch pity pleas'd pleasure pow'r praise pray'r pride proud rage raptures reign rills rise round sacred scene scorn shade shine sighs sing skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound sprite strain sweet sweet oblivion sylphs tear tender Thalestris thee thine thou thought thro toil trembling Twas vale virtue wave weep wild wind wings wretch wyfe wylle wythe ynne youth
Popular passages
Page 192 - A stranger yet to pain! I feel the gales that from ye blow A momentary bliss bestow, As waving fresh their gladsome wing My weary soul they seem to soothe, And, redolent of joy and youth, To breathe a second spring.
Page 325 - I forget the hallow'd grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met, To live one day of parting love? Eternity will not efface Those records dear of transports past; Thy image at our last embrace; Ah ! little thought we 'twas our last ! Ayr gurgling kiss'd his pebbled shore, O'erhung with wild woods, thick'ning green; The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar, Twined amorous round the raptured scene.
Page 239 - And thou, sweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid, Still first to fly where sensual joys invade ; Unfit in these degenerate times of shame To catch the heart, or strike for honest fame ; Dear charming nymph, neglected and decried, My shame in crowds, my solitary pride ; Thou source of all my bliss, and all my woe, That found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so...
Page 15 - Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows ; But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar: When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, The line too labours, and the words move slow : Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain, Flies o'er the unbending corn, and skims along the main. Hear how Timotheus...
Page 14 - In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold; Alike fantastic, if too new, or old: Be not the first by whom the new are tried, Nor yet the last to lay the old aside.
Page 189 - Await alike th' inevitable hour. The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault, If memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. Can storied urn, or animated bust, Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ? Can...
Page 239 - tis hard to combat, learns to fly! For him no wretches, born to work and weep, Explore the mine, or tempt the dangerous deep...
Page 188 - THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...
Page 221 - Condemn'da needy supplicant to wait, While ladies interpose, and slaves debate. But did not Chance at length her error mend? Did no subverted empire mark his end? Did rival monarchs give the fatal wound? Or hostile millions press him to the ground? His fall was destin'd to a barren strand, A petty fortress, and a dubious hand; He left the name, at which the world grew pale, To point a moral, or adorn a tale.
Page 316 - My lov'd, my honour'd, much respected friend! No mercenary bard his homage pays; With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end, My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise: To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays, The lowly train in life's sequester'd scene, The native feelings strong, the guileless ways, What Aiken in a cottage would have been; Ah! tho' his worth unknown, far happier there I ween! November chill blaws loud wi...