What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
appears arms attend banks beams beauty beneath blast blest bloom breast bright called cheer Chief clouds dark dear death deep delight early eyes fair faithful fancy fate fear feel fire force Genius glow grace hand head hear heard heart Highland hope hour kind lady land leave light live lonely look maid mind mountains mournful Muse native Nature never o'er once peace plain pleasure pride PRINCE race rest rise rocks round scene secret seek shades shore simple smile social soft song sorrow soul spirit spread spring steps storm strain streams sweet tears tell tender thee thou thought thro Till toils trace truth vain virtues wandering wild wind wont woods worth young youth
Page 31 - Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, — The seasons...
Page 57 - And airy tongues that syllable men's names On sands and shores and desert wildernesses. These thoughts may startle well, but not astound The virtuous mind, that ever walks attended By a strong siding champion, Conscience.
Page 43 - still small voice" of sacred sympathy, In vain the mourner's sorrows would beguile, Or steal from weary woe one languid smile ; Yet what they can they do, — the scanty store, So often...
Page 257 - The poor inhabitant below Was quick to learn and wise to know, And keenly felt the friendly glow, And softer flame ; But thoughtless follies laid him low, And stain'd his name ! Reader, attend ! whether thy soul Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole, Or darkling grubs this earthly hole, In low pursuit ; Know, prudent, cautious, self-control Is wisdom's root.
Page 409 - But I will hope to see him yet, in Scotland's bonny bounds; But I will hope to see him yet, in Scotland's bonny bounds. His native land of liberty shall nurse his glorious wounds, While wide, through all our Highland hills, his warlike name resounds.
Page 43 - No time can e'er her banished joys restore, For ah ! a heart once broken heals no more. The dewy beams that gleam from pity's eye, The
Page 309 - How blest those olive plants that grow Beneath the altar's sacred shade, Where streams of fresh instruction flow, And Comfort's humble board is spread. 'Twas thus the swallow rear'd her young, Secure within the house of God, Of whom the royal prophet sung, When banish'd from that blest abode.
Page 17 - The sprightly lark's shrill matin wakes the morn. Grief's sharpest thorn hard pressing on my breast, 1 strive, with wakeful melody, to cheer The sullen gloom, sweet Philomel ! like thee, And call the stars to listen : every star Is deaf to mine, enamour'd of thy lay.