A Collection of Poems in Four Volumes, 4. köide

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G. Pearch, Robert Dodsley
assignment from the executors of G. Pearch, 1783 - 322 pages

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Page 140 - Till, quite dejected with my scorn, He left me to my pride, And sought a solitude forlorn, In secret, where he died. " But mine the sorrow, mine the fault, And well my life shall pay ; I'll seek the solitude he sought, And stretch me where he lay.
Page 139 - But let a maid thy pity share, Whom love has taught to stray : Who seeks for rest, but finds despair Companion of her way. " My father liv'd beside the Tyne, A wealthy lord was he : And all his wealth was mark'd as mine, He had but only me. " To win me from his tender arms, Unnumber'd suitors came ; Who prais'd me for imputed charms, And felt or feign'da flame.
Page 137 - Around in sympathetic mirth Its tricks the kitten tries ; The cricket chirrups in the hearth ; The crackling faggot flies.
Page 70 - ... flower ! Why fly thy shafts in lawless error driven ! Is Virtue then no more the care of Heaven ! But peace, bold thought ! be still, my bursting heart ! We, not Eliza, felt the fatal dart.
Page 136 - No flocks that range the valley free, To slaughter I condemn: Taught by that Power that pities me, I learn to pity them : "But from the mountain's grassy side A guiltless feast I bring; A scrip with herbs and fruits supplied, And water from the spring. "Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego ; All earth-born cares are wrong; Man wants but little here below, Nor wants that little long.
Page 71 - AT the close of the day, when the hamlet is still, And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove, When nought but the torrent is heard on the hill, And nought but the nightingale's song in the grove...
Page 123 - He seized the' advantage Fate allow'd; And straight compress'd her in his vigorous arms. STROPHE. The curlew scream'd, the tritons blew Their shells to celebrate the ravish'd rite; Old Time exulted as he flew; And Independence saw the light. The light he saw in Albion's happy plains, Where under cover of a flowering thorn, While Philomel renew'd her warbled strains, The...
Page 141 - Twas Edwin's self that press'd. « Turn, Angelina, ever dear, My charmer, turn to see Thy own, thy long-lost Edwin here, ^ ^ Restored to love and thee. « Thus let me hold thee to my heart, And every care resign ; And shall we never, never part, My life — my all that's mine? « No, never from this hour to part, We'll live and love so true; The sigh that rends thy constant heart, Shall break thy Edwin's too.
Page 72 - Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more ; I mourn; but, ye woodlands, I mourn not for you : For morn is approaching, your charms to restore, Perfumed with fresh fragrance, and glittering with dew.
Page 135 - T'URN, gentle hermit of the dale, " And guide my lonely way, " To where yon taper cheers the vale, " With hofpitable ray. " For here forlorn and loft I tread, " With fainting fteps and flow ; " Where wilds immeafurably fpread, " Seem lengthening as I go." " Forbear, my fon," the hermit cries, " To tempt the dangerous gloom ; " For yonder phantom only flies

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