The Royal convert - Jane Shore - Jane Gray - Poems on several occasions

Első borító
J. and R. Tonson, T. Osborne, T. Waller, T. Longman, T. Caslon, C. Corbett, T. Lowndes, W. Nicoll, S. Bladon, and M. Richardson., 1766 - 373 oldal
 

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269. oldal - That I must die, it is my only comfort ; Death is the privilege of human nature, And life without it were not worth our taking: " Thither the poor, the pris'ner, and the mourner, \\* " Fly for relief, and lay their burthens down.
236. oldal - So many of your sex would not in vain Of broken vows, and faithless men, complain ; Of all the various wretches love has made, How few have been by men of sense betray 'd 7 Convinc'd by reason, they your power confess, Pleas'd to be happy, as you're pleas'd to bless, And, conscious of your worth, can never love you less.
225. oldal - I've gone around through all my thoughts, But all are indignation, love, or shame, And my dear peace of mind is lost for ever.
257. oldal - ... wretched as I seem, Still I have something of Sciolto's virtue. Yes, yes, my father, I applaud thy justice ; Strike home, and I will bless thee for the blow : Be merciful, and free me from my pain; 'Tis sharp, 'tis terrible, and I could curse The cheerful day, men, earth, and heav'n, and thee, Ev'n thee, thou venerable good old man, For being author of a wretch like me.
270. oldal - Whose beauty gilds the more than midnight darkness, And makes it grateful as the dawn of day. Oh, take me in, a fellow-mourner, with thee, I'll number groan for groan, and tear for tear; And when the fountain of thy eyes are dry, Mine shall supply the stream, and weep for both.
228. oldal - Some sullen influence, a foe to both, Has wrought this fatal marriage to undo us. Mark but the frame and temper of our minds, How very much we differ. Ev'n this day, That fills thee with such...
274. oldal - tis too late ; And yet my eyes take pleasure to behold thee; Thou art their last dear object Mercy, Heav'n ! [She dies.
226. oldal - On thy life I charge thee no : my genius drives me on; I must, I will behold him once again : Perhaps it is the crisis of my fate, And this one interview shall end my cares.
211. oldal - Before ungrateful Genoa had forgot The merit of thy godlike father's arms ; Before that country, which he long had...
250. oldal - Oh, raise thee, my Lavinia, from the earth. It is too much ; this tide of flowing grief, This wond'rous waste of tears, too much to give To an ungrateful friend, and cruel brother.

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