Bell's Edition: The Poets of Great Britain Complete from Chaucer to Churchill ...

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J. Bell, 1801 - English poetry

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Page 205 - War, he sung, is toil and trouble; Honour but an empty bubble ; Never ending, still beginning, Fighting still, and still destroying ; If the world be worth thy winning, Think, O think it worth enjoying! Lovely Thais sits beside thee, Take the good the gods provide thee.
Page 89 - My thoughtless youth was wing'd with vain desires, My manhood, long misled by wandering fires, Follow'd false lights, and, when their glimpse was gone, My pride struck out new sparkles of her own. Such was I, such by nature still I am ; Be thine the glory, and be mine the shame. Good life be now my task : my doubts are done ; What more could fright my faith than Three in One...
Page 202 - Timotheus, placed on high Amid the tuneful quire, With flying fingers touched the lyre: The trembling notes ascend the sky And heavenly joys inspire. The song began from Jove Who left his blissful seats above, Such is the power of mighty love ! A dragon's fiery form...
Page 27 - For, spite of him, the weight of business fell On Absalom and wise Achitophel: Thus, wicked but in will, of means bereft, He left not faction, but of that was left.
Page 207 - At last divine Cecilia came, Inventress of the vocal frame ; The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store, Enlarged the former narrow bounds, And added length to solemn sounds, With nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before. Let old Timotheus yield the prize, Or both divide the crown ; He raised a mortal to the skies, She drew an angel down.
Page 27 - Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong, Was everything by starts and nothing long ; But in the course of one revolving moon Was chemist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon ; Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking, Besides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking.
Page 185 - Ne'er to have peace with wit, nor truce with sense. The king himself the sacred unction made, As king by office, and as priest by trade: In his sinister hand, instead of ball, He placed a mighty mug of potent ale; Love's kingdom...
Page 41 - tis to rule, for that's a monarch's end. They call my tenderness of blood my fear ; Though manly tempers can the longest bear. Yet, since they will divert my native course, 'Tis time to show I am not good by force.
Page 203 - Flush'd with a purple grace He shows his honest face: Now give the hautboys breath; he comes, he comes! Bacchus, ever fair and young, Drinking joys did first ordain; Bacchus...
Page 36 - Behold th' approaching cliffs of Albion : It is no longer motion cheats your view, As you meet it, the land approacheth you. The land returns, and, in the white it wears, The marks of penitence and sorrow bears.

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