The Works of Cowper and Thomson: Including Many Letters and Poems Never Before Published in this Country : With a New and Interesting Memoir of the Life of Thomson ...

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J. Grigg, & Elliot, 1841 - 537 pages

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Page 63 - I would not have a slave to till my ground, To carry me, to fan me while I sleep, And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth That sinews bought and sold have ever earned.
Page 128 - Until he came unto the Wash Of Edmonton so gay; And there he threw the Wash about On both sides of the way, Just like unto a trundling mop, Or a wild goose at play. At Edmonton his loving wife From the balcony spied Her tender husband, wondering much To see how he did ride. "Stop, stop, John Gilpin! — Here's the house!" They all at once did cry: "The dinner waits, and we are tired;
Page 114 - I am lord of the fowl and the brute. 0 solitude ! where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face ? Better dwell in the midst of alarms, Than reign in this horrible place. 1 am out of humanity's reach, I must finish my journey alone, Never hear the sweet music of speech, — I start at the sound of my own. The beasts that roam over the plain My form with indifference see, They are so unacquainted with man, Their tameness is shocking to me.
Page 98 - I would not enter on my list of friends (Though graced with polished manners and fine sense Yet wanting sensibility) the man Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.
Page 128 - And thus unto the youth she said, That drove them to the Bell, This shall be yours when you bring back My husband safe and well. The youth did ride, and soon did meet John coming back amain ; Whom in a trice he tried to stop, By catching at his rein; But not performing what he meant, And gladly would have done, The frighted steed he frighted more, And made him faster run. Away went Gilpin, and away Went post-boy at his heels, The post-boy's horse right glad to miss The lumbering of the wheels.
Page 133 - Every burning word he spoke Full of rage and full of grief : ' Princess ! if our aged eyes Weep upon thy matchless wrongs, 'Tis because resentment ties All the terrors of our tongues. ' Rome shall perish, — write that word In the blood that she has spilt : Perish hopeless and abhorred, Deep in ruin as in guilt.
Page 66 - Would I describe a preacher, such as Paul, Were he on Earth, would hear, approve, and own, Paul should himself direct me. I would trace His master-strokes, and draw from his design. I would express him simple, grave, sincere ; In doctrine uncorrupt ; in language plain, And plain in manner; decent, solemn, chaste And natural in gesture ; much impress'd Himself, as conscious of his awful charge, And anxious mainly that the flock he feeds May feel it too ; affectionate in look, And tender in address,...
Page 128 - My head is twice as big as yours, They therefore needs must fit. " But let me scrape the dirt away That hangs upon your face ; And stop and eat, for well you may Be in a hungry case.
Page 125 - And the scene, where his melody charm'd me before, Resounds with his sweet-flowing ditty no more. My fugitive years are all hasting away, And I must ere long lie as lowly as they, With a turf on my breast, and a stone at my head, Ere another such grove shall arise in its stead.
Page 153 - ... he drank The stifling wave, and then he sank. No poet wept him ; but the page Of narrative sincere, That tells his name, his worth, his age, Is wet with Anson's tear : And tears by bards or heroes shed Alike immortalize the dead. I therefore purpose not, or dream, Descanting on his fate, To give the melancholy theme A more enduring date : But misery still delights to trace Its semblance in another's case. No voice divine the storm allayed, No light propitious shone, When, snatched from all effectual...

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