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artsul awsul beauty beneath besore bids bliss bloom breast breath charms cheek cheersul circling band clouds comsort CREVILLE cry'd DAVID MALLET e'er earth Ev'n ev'ry fleep flow gay nature gentle glories glow grace gratesul gries grove happiness heart Heaven hour insant light lise lute lyre maid mind morn mournsul muse Musidora nature's ne'er night nymph o'er pain passions peace Philomel pity plain pleasure pow'r praise pride rise round sace sacred sading sall sancy sate sather's scene seel shade shepherd sields sigh sill'd sing sire sirst smiling solemn sond song sools sooth sorlorn sorm sorrow sorsakes sorth sortune sost soul sound spring sree sresh sriend sriendly sriendship srom srown swain sweet swist tear thee thine thou thought train trembling tunesul Tuning sweet vale virtue voice warbling wing wood youth
Page 150 - Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the Poor. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave Await alike th' inevitable hour : — The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Page 186 - With store of ladies, whose bright eyes Rain influence, and judge the prize Of wit or arms, while both contend To win her grace whom all commend.
Page 178 - Delightful task! to rear the tender thought, To teach the young idea how to shoot...
Page 183 - Come, and trip it as you go, On the light fantastic toe ; And in thy right hand lead with thee The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty; And if I give thee honour due, Mirth, admit me of thy crew, To live with her and live with thee, In unreproved pleasures free...
Page 193 - And when the Sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring To arched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown that Sylvan loves Of Pine, or monumental Oak, Where the rude Axe with heaved stroke, Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt.
Page 99 - I have found out a gift for my fair; I have found where the wood-pigeons breed; But let me that plunder forbear, She will say 'twas a barbarous deed...
Page 82 - Or aught Thy goodness lent. Teach me to feel another's woe, To hide the fault I see ; That mercy I to others show, That mercy show to me.
Page 149 - The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care; No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.