The works of the English poets. With prefaces, biographical and critical, by S. Johnson, Volume 581790 |
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Page 8
... happy they , the wife contented poor , From luft of wealth , and dread of death fecure ! They tempt no deferts , and no griefs they find ; Peace rules the day , where reason rules the mind . " Sad was the hour , and luckless was the day ...
... happy they , the wife contented poor , From luft of wealth , and dread of death fecure ! They tempt no deferts , and no griefs they find ; Peace rules the day , where reason rules the mind . " Sad was the hour , and luckless was the day ...
Page 10
... happy maid ! to other fcenes remove , To richer scenes of golden power and love ! Go leave the fimple pipe , and fhepherd's ftrain ; With love delight thee , and with Abbas reign . " Be every youth like royal Abbas mov'd , " And every ...
... happy maid ! to other fcenes remove , To richer scenes of golden power and love ! Go leave the fimple pipe , and fhepherd's ftrain ; With love delight thee , and with Abbas reign . " Be every youth like royal Abbas mov'd , " And every ...
Page 11
... happy days ! the maids around her fay ; O hafte , profuse of bleffings , hafte away ! " Be every youth like royal Abbas mov'd ; " And every Georgian maid like Abra lov'd ! ” ECLOGUE ECLOGUE IV . Agib and Secander ; or , the ORIENTAL ...
... happy days ! the maids around her fay ; O hafte , profuse of bleffings , hafte away ! " Be every youth like royal Abbas mov'd ; " And every Georgian maid like Abra lov'd ! ” ECLOGUE ECLOGUE IV . Agib and Secander ; or , the ORIENTAL ...
Page 14
... happy loves : In vain she boasts her fairest of the fair , Their eyes ' blue languish , and their golden hair ! Thofe eyes in tears their fruitlefs grief muft fend ; Those hairs the Tartar's cruel hand fhall rend . AGIB . Ye Georgian ...
... happy loves : In vain she boasts her fairest of the fair , Their eyes ' blue languish , and their golden hair ! Thofe eyes in tears their fruitlefs grief muft fend ; Those hairs the Tartar's cruel hand fhall rend . AGIB . Ye Georgian ...
Page 63
... happy with that frugal fare Which tafteful toil and hourly danger give . Hard is their fhallow foil , and bleak and bare ; Nor ever vernal bee was heard to murmur there ! XI . Nor need'ft thou blush that fuch false themes engage Thy ...
... happy with that frugal fare Which tafteful toil and hourly danger give . Hard is their fhallow foil , and bleak and bare ; Nor ever vernal bee was heard to murmur there ! XI . Nor need'ft thou blush that fuch false themes engage Thy ...
Common terms and phrases
AARON HILL Ægyptus æther ancient ariſe beauteous behold beneath bleft boaſt breathe charm chearful clime coaft courſe CYMBELINE deep delight deſcription diftant dreft duft eaſe eclogue erft ev'n facred fair Falernum fame fcene feek fhade fhall fhepherds fhore fide filent firſt fleece flocks flowers foft folemn fome fong fons ftill ftores ftrain fubject fuch fwains fweet fwell Gaul green GRONGAR HILL groves hand heart hills ifle induſtry iſle lofty loom lov'd maid meaſure moſt mountains Mufe mufic Muſe numbers nymphs o'er paffions paftures plains pleaſure poet proud raiſe realms rife riſe rocks ruins ſcene ſeems ſhade ſhall ſhe ſheep ſhore ſkill ſky ſpeed ſpread ſtate ſtep ſtill ſtream ſtreets ſtrong ſwain ſweet thee thefe Theocritus theſe thofe thoſe thou thouſand toil trade uſe vale vallies verſe virtue wave wealth whofe whoſe wild wind wiſhes woods wool youth
Popular passages
Page 24 - How sleep the brave, who sink to rest, By all their country's wishes blest ! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung ; By forms unseen their dirge is sung : There Honour comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay ; And Freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there ! TO MERCY.
Page 98 - Who slept in buds the day, And many a Nymph who wreathes her brows with sedge And sheds the freshening dew, and lovelier still The pensive Pleasures sweet Prepare thy shadowy car.
Page 35 - midst its dreary dells, Whose walls more awful nod By thy religious gleams. Or if chill blustering winds, or driving rain, Prevent my willing feet, be mine the hut, That from the mountain's side, Views wilds, and swelling floods, And hamlets brown, and dim-discover'd spires, And hears their simple bell, and marks o'er all Thy dewy fingers draw The gradual dusky veil.
Page 41 - And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail. Still would her touch the strain prolong ; And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, She call'd on Echo still through all the song ; And where her sweetest theme she chose, A soft responsive voice was heard at every close ; And Hope enchanted smil'd, and wav'd her golden hair...
Page 87 - O thou, whose spirit most possest The sacred seat of Shakspeare's breast! By all that from thy prophet broke. In thy divine emotions spoke ; Hither again thy fury deal, Teach me but once like him to feel : His cypress wreath my meed decree, And I, O Fear, will dwell with thee ! ODE TO SIMPLICITY.
Page 76 - What if the lion in his rage I meet ! Oft in the dust I view his printed feet : And fearful ! oft, when day's declining light Yields her pale empire to the mourner night, By hunger...
Page 114 - I lie ; While the wanton Zephyr sings. And in the vale perfumes his wings ; While the waters murmur deep ; While the shepherd charms his sheep; While the birds unbounded fly, And with music fill the sky, Now, ev'n now. my joys run high.
Page 112 - And see the rivers how they run, Through woods and meads, in shade and sun Sometimes swift, sometimes slow, Wave succeeding wave, they go A various journey to the deep, Like human life, to endless sleep...
Page 111 - Below me trees unnumber'd rise, Beautiful in various dyes : The gloomy pine, the poplar blue, The yellow beech, the sable yew, The slender fir, that taper grows, ' The sturdy oak with broad-spread boughs. And beyond the purple grove, Haunt of Phyllis, queen of love...
Page 56 - Fresh to that soil thou turn'st, whose ev'ry vale Shall prompt the poet, and his song demand: To thee thy copious subjects ne'er shall fail; Thou need'st but take the pencil to thy hand, And paint what all believe who own thy genial land.