The Minstrel; Or, The Progress of Genius: With Some Other Poems |
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Page 14
... sweet , he wish'd not to control . " O ye 23 wild groves , O where is now your bloom ! ” , ( The Muse interprets thus his tender thought ) " Your flowers , your verdure , and your balmy gloom , " Of late so grateful in the hour of ...
... sweet , he wish'd not to control . " O ye 23 wild groves , O where is now your bloom ! ” , ( The Muse interprets thus his tender thought ) " Your flowers , your verdure , and your balmy gloom , " Of late so grateful in the hour of ...
Page 24
... sweet , serenely gay , Amus'd my childhood , and inform'd my youth . O let your spirit still my bosom sooth , Inspire my dreams , and my wild wanderings guide : Your voice each rugged path of life can smooth , For well I know where ...
... sweet , serenely gay , Amus'd my childhood , and inform'd my youth . O let your spirit still my bosom sooth , Inspire my dreams , and my wild wanderings guide : Your voice each rugged path of life can smooth , For well I know where ...
Page 38
... sauntering carelessly along ; Where every face was innocent and gay , Each vale romantic , tuneful every tongue , Sweet , wild , and artless all , as Edwin's infant song . 4 " Perish the lore that deadens young desire , 38 THE MINSTREL .
... sauntering carelessly along ; Where every face was innocent and gay , Each vale romantic , tuneful every tongue , Sweet , wild , and artless all , as Edwin's infant song . 4 " Perish the lore that deadens young desire , 38 THE MINSTREL .
Page 48
... soothing murmur the lone region fills , Of groves , and dying gales , and melancholy rills . * How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank . Shakespeare . del F. Tittler sculp 6. T. Rurney . And kneeling 48 THE MINSTREL .
... soothing murmur the lone region fills , Of groves , and dying gales , and melancholy rills . * How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank . Shakespeare . del F. Tittler sculp 6. T. Rurney . And kneeling 48 THE MINSTREL .
Page 55
... bower the murmuring stream decoy , " To aid the flow'ret's long - expected birth , " And lull the bed of peace , and crown the board of " mirth . * Plutarch . 38 " Sweet were your shades , O ye primeval THE MINSTREL . 55 55.
... bower the murmuring stream decoy , " To aid the flow'ret's long - expected birth , " And lull the bed of peace , and crown the board of " mirth . * Plutarch . 38 " Sweet were your shades , O ye primeval THE MINSTREL . 55 55.
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MINSTREL OR THE PROGRESS OF GE James 1735-1803 Beattie,Richard 1765-1836 Westall,Charles 1785-1848 Heath No preview available - 2016 |
Common terms and phrases
Aberdeen afar alarm Ambition's appeared balmy Beattie Beattie's Bishop of London bosom bower charms cliffs clouds cranes dark dart deep Doctor of Laws dread dream edition Edwin English poetry Essay on Truth falchion fame Fancy Fancy's Fate flowers foes forlorn friends gale gentle glittering glow grace groves hail heart heaven honour hope Hume JAMES BEATTIE Laurencekirk London lone lyre Marischal College Mawman mind Minstrel moral mountains mourn Muse Nature's ne'er never o'er opinion peace philosophical pleasure poems poetry pomp praise pride PROGRESS OF GENIUS published pygmy racter rage republic of letters roam scene Scotland Scots Magazine seem'd serene shade Sir Joshua Reynolds smile song sooth soul spleen sprightly storm strain sublime sweet taste tears thee thine thou thought thro vale verse virtue voice wander warbling wild wind wings writings youth
Popular passages
Page 3 - AH ! who can tell how hard it is to climb The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar; Ah! who can tell how many a soul sublime Has felt the influence of malignant star, And waged with Fortune an eternal war; Check'd by the scoff of Pride, by Envy's frown, And Poverty's unconquerable bar, In life's low vale remote has pined alone, Then dropt into the grave, unpitied and unknown...
Page 7 - Oh, how canst thou renounce the boundless store Of charms which Nature to her votary yields ? The warbling woodland, the resounding shore, The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields ; All that the genial ray of morning gilds, And all that echoes to the song of even, All that the mountain's sheltering bosom shields, And all the dread magnificence of heaven...
Page 118 - Twas thus, by the cave of the mountain afar, While his harp rung symphonious, a Hermit began ; No more with himself or with nature at war, He thought as a Sage, though he felt as a Man.
Page 22 - But who the melodies of morn can tell ? The wild brook babbling down the mountain side : The lowing herd ; the sheepfold's simple bell ; The pipe of early shepherd dim descried In the lone valley ; echoing far and wide The clamorous horn along the cliffs above ; The hollow murmur of the ocean tide ; The hum of bees, the linnet's lay of love, And the full choir that wakes the universal grove.
Page 13 - And oft the craggy cliff he loved to climb, When all in mist the world below was lost. What dreadful pleasure ! there to stand sublime, Like shipwreck'd mariner on desert coast, And view th...
Page 16 - And be it so. Let those deplore their doom, Whose hope still grovels in this dark sojourn : But lofty souls, who look beyond the tomb, Can smile at Fate, and wonder how they mourn. Shall Spring to these sad scenes no more return ? Is yonder wave the sun's eternal bed ? Soon shall the orient with new lustre burn, And Spring shall soon her vital influence shed, Again attune the grove, again adorn the mead.
Page 42 - Hail, awful scenes, that calm the troubled breast, And woo the weary to profound repose ! Can Passion's wildest uproar lay to rest, And whisper comfort to the man of woes ! Here Innocence may wander, safe from foes, And Contemplation soar on seraph wings.
Page 11 - Silent when glad ; affectionate, though shy ; And now his look was most demurely sad ; And now he laugh'd aloud, yet none knew why. The neighbours star'd and sigh'd, yet bless'd the lad : Some deem'd him wondrous wise, and some believed him mad.
Page 45 - Let Vanity adorn the marble tomb With trophies, rhymes, and scutcheons of renown, In the deep dungeon of some gothic dome, Where night and desolation ever frown. Mine be the breezy hill that skirts the down; Where a green grassy turf is all I crave, With here and there a violet bestrown, Fast by a brook, or fountain's murmuring wave; And many an evening sun shine sweetly on my grave.
Page xxxiv - Whoever wishes to attain an English style, familiar but not coarse, and elegant but not ostentatious, must give his days and nights to the volumes of Addison...