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appear beneath born breast breath close Cowper dear death deep delight desire divine earth ev'ry eyes fair fame fear feel fire friendship future give grace grove hand happy hast Hayley hear heart Heav'n Hesketh hope hour kind known labour lady late leave length less letter light live March Mary means mind month morning Muse nature never night o'er once pain peace perhaps period Phæbus poem poet pow'r praise present prove received rest rose scarcely scene seek shade shore side sight song soon sound spirits spring sweet task tears thee theme thine thing thou thoughts till translation true truth turns Unwin verse voice wish worth write youth
Page 113 - With all her crew complete. Toll for the brave ! Brave Kempenfelt is gone ; His last sea-fight is fought, His work of glory done. It was not in the battle ; No tempest gave the shock ; She sprang no fatal leak ; She ran upon no rock. His sword was in its sheath, His fingers held the pen, When Kempenfelt went down With twice four hundred men.
Page 248 - Nor, cruel as it seem'd, could he Their haste himself condemn, Aware that flight, in such a sea, Alone could rescue them ; Yet bitter felt it still to die Deserted, and his friends so nigh. He long survives who lives an hour Id ocean, self-upheld : And so long he, with unspent power, His destiny repell'd : And ever as the minutes flew, Entreated help, or cried —
Page 247 - He loved them both, but both in vain, Nor him beheld, nor her, again. Not long beneath the whelming brine, Expert to swim, he lay; Nor soon he felt his strength decline Or courage die away; But waged with death a lasting strife, Supported by despair of life.
Page 111 - The man that hails you Tom or Jack, And proves by thumps upon your back How he esteems your merit, Is such a friend, that one had need Be very much his friend indeed, .
Page 242 - Thy silver locks once auburn bright, Are still more lovely in my sight Than golden beams of orient light, My Mary ; For could I view nor them nor thee, What sight worth seeing could I see ? The sun would rise in vain for me, Partakers of thy sad decline, Thy hands their little force resign ; Yet gently prest, press gently mine, My Mary...
Page 182 - And useless powers, by whom inspired, thyself Art skilful to associate verse with airs Harmonious, and to give the human voice A thousand modulations, heir by right Indisputable of Arion's fame. Now say, what wonder is it, if a son Of thine delight in verse, if, so conjoin'd In close affinity, we sympathize In social arts and kindred studies sweet...
Page 14 - Children not thine have trod my nurs'ry floor; And where the gard'ner Robin, day by day, Drew me to school along the public way, Delighted with my bauble coach, and wrapt In scarlet mantle warm, and velvet capt, 'Tis now become a history little known, That once we call'd the past'ral house our own.
Page 214 - gan in haste the drawers explore, The lowest first, and without stop The rest in order to the top. For 'tis a truth well known to most, That whatsoever thing is lost, We seek it, ere it come to light, In every cranny but the right.
Page 242 - And still to love, though prest with ill, In wintry age to feel no chill, With me is to be lovely still, My Mary! But ah! by constant heed I know How oft the sadness that I show Transforms thy smiles to looks of woe, My Mary! And should my future lot be cast With much resemblance of the past, Thy worn-out heart will break at last — My Mary!