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beneath bids blest boast call'd charms delight design'd divine dream Earth errour ev'n ev'ry ev’ry eyes fancy fear feel fire flow'r flow’rs folly form'd frown Gilpin give glory grace hand happy hast heart Heav'n heav'nly hope hour int’rest John Gilpin joys land light mankind mind muse never º º º ºr o'er ºf ºf ºff ºn ºf ºn tº once ºne ºº ºr ºf ºr tº ºut peace pity pleasure poet poet's pow'r praise pray'rs pride sacred scene scorn seem'd shine sight skies smile ſº sº º sº ºf sº tº song soon sorrow soul Stamp'd stand stockjobbers stream sweet taste teach telescopic eye thee theme thine thou thought tº º tº ºr tº sº tongue tºº truth Twas VINCENT BourNE virtue waste Whate'er wind wisdom zºº
Page 325 - Stop thief! stop thief! — a highwayman ! Not one of them was mute ; And all and each that pass'd that way Did join in the pursuit. And now the turnpike gates again Flew open in short space; The toll-men thinking as before, That Gilpin rode a race.
Page 229 - Ye winds, that have made me your sport, Convey to this desolate shore Some cordial endearing report Of a land I shall visit no more. My friends, do they now and then send A wish or a thought after me ? O tell me I yet have a friend, Though a friend I am never to see.
Page 226 - I AM monarch of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute ; From the centre all round to the sea, I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
Page 277 - Sighs must fan it, tears must water, Sweat of ours must dress the soil. Think, ye masters iron-hearted, Lolling at your jovial boards ; Think how many backs have smarted For the sweets your cane affords.
Page 171 - The scene of all those sorrows left behind, Sought their own village, busied as they went In musings worthy of the great event : They spake of him they loved, of him whose life, Though blameless, had incurr'd perpetual strife, Whose deeds had left, in spite of hostile arts, A deep memorial graven on their hearts.
Page 319 - John he cried ; But John he cried in vain, That trot became a gallop soon, In spite of curb and rein. So stooping down, as needs he must Who cannot sit upright, He grasp'd the mane with both his hands And eke with all his might.
Page 278 - Deem our nation brutes no longer, Till some reason ye shall find Worthier of regard, and stronger Than the colour of our kind. Slaves of gold, whose sordid dealings Tarnish all your boasted powers, Prove that you have human feelings, Ere you proudly question ours ! PITY FOR POOR AFRICANS.
Page 122 - He loved the world that hated him : the tear That dropp'd upon his Bible was sincere ; Assail'd by scandal and the tongue of strife, His only answer was a blameless life ; And he that forged, and he that threw the dart, Had each a brother's interest in his heart.