A Complete Edition of the Poets of Great Britain..: Wilkie. Dodsley. Shaw. Smart. Langhorne. Bruce. Chatterton. Graeme. Glover. Lovibond. Penrose. Mickle. Jago. Scott. Johnson. W. Whitehead. Jenyns. Logan. Warton. Cotton. BlacklockJohn & Arthur Arch, ... and for Bell & Bradfute & I. Mundell & Company, Edinburgh., 1795 |
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Page 12
... still her steps attends ; Fear flies before her fwifter than the wind , And defolation marks her path behind . Yet her , attended thus , the gods ordain Stern arbitress of right to mortal men ; To awe injuftice with her lifted fpear ...
... still her steps attends ; Fear flies before her fwifter than the wind , And defolation marks her path behind . Yet her , attended thus , the gods ordain Stern arbitress of right to mortal men ; To awe injuftice with her lifted fpear ...
Page 31
... still the chief attends : Laft fun beheld him vanquish'd on the plain ; Then warriors fav'd him , now a fhepherd swain . Defend him ftill from perfecuting fate ! Prote & the hero who protects the state ; In martial conflicts watch with ...
... still the chief attends : Laft fun beheld him vanquish'd on the plain ; Then warriors fav'd him , now a fhepherd swain . Defend him ftill from perfecuting fate ! Prote & the hero who protects the state ; In martial conflicts watch with ...
Page 33
... still to furvive the horror of a crime , Whofe colour blots the registers of time ? The hero thus : Caffandra thus replies : Iphicles is my name ; my country lies Where Antirrihum's rocky fhores divide , Extended in the deep th ' lonian ...
... still to furvive the horror of a crime , Whofe colour blots the registers of time ? The hero thus : Caffandra thus replies : Iphicles is my name ; my country lies Where Antirrihum's rocky fhores divide , Extended in the deep th ' lonian ...
Page 39
... still shall be Like fair Trachines and her fons to me . Enter , for now the doubtful twilight fails , And o'er the filent earth the night prevails : From the moist valleys noxious fogs arife , To wrap the rocky heights , and thade the ...
... still shall be Like fair Trachines and her fons to me . Enter , for now the doubtful twilight fails , And o'er the filent earth the night prevails : From the moist valleys noxious fogs arife , To wrap the rocky heights , and thade the ...
Page 50
... Still to the rampart , and the tow'rs above : Creon himself , unwilling , quits the field , Enrag'd , defeated , and conftrain'd to yield , ' Gainit all his foes his indignation burns , But firft on Diomed its fury turns . He call'd a ...
... Still to the rampart , and the tow'rs above : Creon himself , unwilling , quits the field , Enrag'd , defeated , and conftrain'd to yield , ' Gainit all his foes his indignation burns , But firft on Diomed its fury turns . He call'd a ...
Common terms and phrases
Abrocomes Ælla arms beauty bofom breaft Catcott charms Chatterton Creon defcend Demaratus Diomed Diomedon epic poetry Ev'n ev'ry fable facred fafe faid fair fame fate fatire fcenes feems feen fenfe fhade fhall fhore fhould fide figh fight filent firſt flain fleep flower fmile foft fome fong foon forrow foul fpear fpirit fpread ftand ftill ftrain ftream fuch fure fwain fweet fwelling genius Greece hand heart heav'n hero himſelf honour Hyperanthes Lacedemon laft lefs Leonidas loft maid mind moft moſt mufe mufic muft muſt numbers o'er Oileus paffion plain pleaſe pleaſure poem poet pow'r praife praiſe prefent pride profe rage reafon reft rife rofe ſhall ſtate ſtill tear Theban Thebes thee thefe theſe thie thofe thoſe thou tow'rs uſe vale virtue warriors whofe wylle wythe Xerxes youth
Popular passages
Page 135 - Religion, blushing, veils her sacred fires, And unawares Morality expires. Nor public flame, nor private dares to shine; Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine Lo, thy dread empire, Chaos ! is restored; Light dies before thy uncreating word : Thy hand, great Anarch, lets the curtain fall, And universal darkness buries all.
Page 263 - Now, Spring returns ; but not to me returns The vernal joy my better years have known ; Dim in my breast life's dying taper burns, And all the joys of life with health are flown.
Page 143 - Three poets, in three distant ages born, Greece, Italy, and England did adorn. The first in loftiness of thought surpassed, The next in majesty, in both the last. The force of Nature could no farther go ; To make a third she joined the former two.
Page 264 - There let me sleep forgotten in the clay, When Death shall shut these weary aching eyes, — Rest in the hopes of an eternal day, Till the long night is gone, and the last morn arise.
Page 187 - Tell them, I AM, JEHOVAH said To MOSES; while earth heard in dread, And, smitten to the heart, At once above, beneath, around, All Nature, without voice or sound, Replied, "O LORD, THOU ART.
Page 531 - Thy successful arms we hail ; But remember our sad story, And let Hosier's wrongs prevail. Sent in this foul clime to languish, Think what thousands fell in vain, Wasted with disease and anguish, Not in glorious battle slain.
Page 158 - And num'rous was th' accepting throng. At length pale penury seiz'd the dame, And fortune fled, and ruin came ; She found her riches at an end, And that she had not made one friend.
Page 127 - Ye carry armies on your tow'r-crown'd backs, And grace the turban'd tyrants, bow to him Who is as great, as perfect and as good In his less-striking wonders, till at length The eye's at fault and seeks the assisting glass.
Page 376 - Mercury completes his transient year, Glowing, refulgent, with reflected glare; Bright Venus occupies a wider way, The early harbinger of night and day ; More distant still our globe terraqueous turns, Nor chills intense, nor fiercely heated burns ; Around her rolls the lunar orb of light, Trailing her silver glories through the night. On the earth's orbit see the various signs, Mark where the sun, our year completing, shines ; First the bright Ram his languid ray improves ; Next glaring wat'ry thro...
Page 315 - Syr Canterlone thenne bendedd lowe, Wythe harte brymm-fulle of woe ; Hee journey'd to the castle-gate, And to Syr Charles dydd goe. But whenne hee came, hys children twaine, And eke hys lovynge wyfe, Wythe brinie tears dydd wett the floore, For goode Syr Charleses lyfe. " O goode Syr Charles!" sayd Canterlone, " Badde tydyngs I doe brynge."