Young. Churchill. Lloyd. Falconer. ThomsonA. Miller, 1800 |
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Page 13
... hour from grief , And in thy focial converfe find relief . The mind , of folitude impatient grown , Loves any forrows rather than her own . Let flaves to bufinefs , bodies without foul , Important blanks in Nature's mighty roll ...
... hour from grief , And in thy focial converfe find relief . The mind , of folitude impatient grown , Loves any forrows rather than her own . Let flaves to bufinefs , bodies without foul , Important blanks in Nature's mighty roll ...
Page 14
... hour Them dupes to pride , and him the tool of pow'r . God help the man , condemn'd by cruel fate To court the feeming , or the real great . Much forrow fhall he feel , and fuffer more Than any flave who labours at the oar . By flavish ...
... hour Them dupes to pride , and him the tool of pow'r . God help the man , condemn'd by cruel fate To court the feeming , or the real great . Much forrow fhall he feel , and fuffer more Than any flave who labours at the oar . By flavish ...
Page 17
... hour ; From those soft better moments , when defire Beats high , and all the world of man's on fire , When mutual ardours of the melting fair More than repay us for whole years of care , At friendship's fummons will my Wilkes retreat ...
... hour ; From those soft better moments , when defire Beats high , and all the world of man's on fire , When mutual ardours of the melting fair More than repay us for whole years of care , At friendship's fummons will my Wilkes retreat ...
Page 18
... hour forfook the peaceful plain . Jamie , when our young Laird difcreetly fled , Was feiz'd and hang'd till he was ... hours a grafhopper muft die . No living thing , whate'er its food , feafts there , But the Cameleon , who can feast on ...
... hour forfook the peaceful plain . Jamie , when our young Laird difcreetly fled , Was feiz'd and hang'd till he was ... hours a grafhopper muft die . No living thing , whate'er its food , feafts there , But the Cameleon , who can feast on ...
Page 20
... hour , Vile int'reft fcorn , nor madly grasp at pow'r ; Should love of fame , in ev'ry noble mind A brave disease , with love of virtue join'd , Spur thee to deeds of pith , where courage , tried In Reafon's court , is amply justified ...
... hour , Vile int'reft fcorn , nor madly grasp at pow'r ; Should love of fame , in ev'ry noble mind A brave disease , with love of virtue join'd , Spur thee to deeds of pith , where courage , tried In Reafon's court , is amply justified ...
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Common terms and phrases
¿ther beneath blefs bleft blifs bofom breaft caufe charms death deep defcend divine dreadful e'en earth eternal ev'ry facred fafe fair fame fate fatire fcene fear fecret feen fenfe fhade fhall fhine fhore fhould fide fing fkies flame flaves fleep fmile foes foft fome fong fons fools foon foul fpirit fpread ftand ftate ftill ftrain ftream ftrong fuch fure fweet fwell genius glory grace Greece heart heaven himſelf honeft honour immortal juft laft lefs loft Lorenzo mighty moft moſt Mufe muft muſt Nature Nature's ne'er night numbers o'er paffions Palemon peace pleaſe pleaſure pow'r praife praiſe pride profe proud rage reafon rife Rodmond round ſcene ſhall ſkies ſtand ſtate ſtill thee thefe theſe thine thofe thoſe thou thought thouſand thro throne toil trembling truth virtue Whilft whofe whoſe wife worfe
Popular passages
Page 207 - THE CURFEW tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The plowman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Page 209 - One morn I missed him on the customed hill, Along the heath and near his favourite tree; Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; 'The next with dirges due in sad array Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou can'st read) the lay, Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Page 207 - 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 209 - There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
Page 487 - Christian kings, inflam'd by black desire, With honourable ruffians in their hire, Cause war to rage, and blood around to pour : Of this sad work when each begins to tire, They sit them down just where they were before, Till for new scenes of woe peace shall their force restore.
Page 207 - Each in his narrow cell forever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. 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.
Page 487 - Of all the gentle tenants of the place, There was a man of special grave remark : A certain tender gloom o'erspread his face, Pensive, not sad ; in thought...
Page 444 - Ah little think they, while they dance along, How many feel, this very moment, death And all the sad variety of pain. How many sink in the devouring flood, Or more devouring flame. How many bleed, By shameful variance betwixt man and man. How many pine in want, and dungeon glooms; Shut from the common air, and common use Of their own limbs.
Page 123 - It is their funeral knell ! and gliding near Methinks the phantoms of the dead appear ; But lo ! emerging from the watery grave Again they float incumbent on the wave, Again the dismal prospect opens round, — The wreck, the shore, the dying, and the drown'd...
Page 209 - Here rests his head upon the lap of earth A youth, to fortune and to fame unknown: Fair science frown'd not on his humble birth, And melancholy mark'd him for her own. Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere...