The Minstrel; Or, The Progress of Genius: With Some Other PoemsJ.Mawman, ... 1805. By T.Gillet, 1805 - 120 oldal |
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1 - 5 találat összesen 18 találatból.
xiii. oldal
... Peace , " and " the Triumph of Melancholy . " But notwithstanding praises which so evidently tended to give a currency to the poems , and which were probably repeated with eagerness by the friends who had encouraged the publication ...
... Peace , " and " the Triumph of Melancholy . " But notwithstanding praises which so evidently tended to give a currency to the poems , and which were probably repeated with eagerness by the friends who had encouraged the publication ...
4. oldal
... peace . Nor higher aim Had Hɛ , whose simple tale these artless lines proclaim . 3 The rolls of fame I will not now explore ; Nor need I here describe , in learned lay , How forth THE MINSTREL far'd in days of yore , Right glad of heart ...
... peace . Nor higher aim Had Hɛ , whose simple tale these artless lines proclaim . 3 The rolls of fame I will not now explore ; Nor need I here describe , in learned lay , How forth THE MINSTREL far'd in days of yore , Right glad of heart ...
6. oldal
... peaceful are the vales , and pure the skies , And freedom fires the soul , and sparkles in the eyes . 7 Then grieve not , thou , to whom th ' indulgent Muse Vouchsafes a portion of celestial fire : Nor blame the partial Fates , if they ...
... peaceful are the vales , and pure the skies , And freedom fires the soul , and sparkles in the eyes . 7 Then grieve not , thou , to whom th ' indulgent Muse Vouchsafes a portion of celestial fire : Nor blame the partial Fates , if they ...
10. oldal
... peace and love are canker'd by the worm Of pride , each bud of joy industrious to deform . 15 The wight , whose tale these artless lines unfold , Was all the offspring of this humble pair : His birth no oracle or seer foretold ; No ...
... peace and love are canker'd by the worm Of pride , each bud of joy industrious to deform . 15 The wight , whose tale these artless lines unfold , Was all the offspring of this humble pair : His birth no oracle or seer foretold ; No ...
24. oldal
... peace , and innocence abide . 43 Ah me neglected on the lonesome plain , As yet poor Edwin never knew your lore , Save when against the winter's drenching rain , And driving snow , the cottage shut the door , Then , as instructed by ...
... peace , and innocence abide . 43 Ah me neglected on the lonesome plain , As yet poor Edwin never knew your lore , Save when against the winter's drenching rain , And driving snow , the cottage shut the door , Then , as instructed by ...
Más kiadások - Összes megtekintése
Gyakori szavak és kifejezések
Aberdeen afar alarm Ambition's appeared balmy Beattie Beattie's Bishop of London bosom bower charms cliffs clouds cranes dark dart deep Doctor of Laws dread dream edition Edwin English poetry Essay on Truth falchion fame Fancy Fancy's Fate flowers foes forlorn friends gale gentle glittering glow grace groves hail heart heaven honour hope Hume JAMES BEATTIE Laurencekirk London lone lyre Marischal College Mawman mind Minstrel moral mountains mourn Muse Nature's ne'er never o'er opinion peace philosophical pleasure poems poetry pomp praise pride PROGRESS OF GENIUS published pygmy racter rage republic of letters roam scene Scotland Scots Magazine seem'd serene shade Sir Joshua Reynolds smile song sooth soul spleen sprightly storm strain sublime sweet taste tears thee thine thou thought thro vale verse virtue voice wander warbling wild wind wings writings youth
Népszerű szakaszok
3. oldal - AH ! who can tell how hard it is to climb The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar; Ah! who can tell how many a soul sublime Has felt the influence of malignant star, And waged with Fortune an eternal war; Check'd by the scoff of Pride, by Envy's frown, And Poverty's unconquerable bar, In life's low vale remote has pined alone, Then dropt into the grave, unpitied and unknown...
7. oldal - Oh, how canst thou renounce the boundless store Of charms which Nature to her votary yields ? The warbling woodland, the resounding shore, The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields ; All that the genial ray of morning gilds, And all that echoes to the song of even, All that the mountain's sheltering bosom shields, And all the dread magnificence of heaven...
118. oldal - Twas thus, by the cave of the mountain afar, While his harp rung symphonious, a Hermit began ; No more with himself or with nature at war, He thought as a Sage, though he felt as a Man.
22. oldal - But who the melodies of morn can tell ? The wild brook babbling down the mountain side : The lowing herd ; the sheepfold's simple bell ; The pipe of early shepherd dim descried In the lone valley ; echoing far and wide The clamorous horn along the cliffs above ; The hollow murmur of the ocean tide ; The hum of bees, the linnet's lay of love, And the full choir that wakes the universal grove.
13. oldal - And oft the craggy cliff he loved to climb, When all in mist the world below was lost. What dreadful pleasure ! there to stand sublime, Like shipwreck'd mariner on desert coast, And view th...
16. oldal - And be it so. Let those deplore their doom, Whose hope still grovels in this dark sojourn : But lofty souls, who look beyond the tomb, Can smile at Fate, and wonder how they mourn. Shall Spring to these sad scenes no more return ? Is yonder wave the sun's eternal bed ? Soon shall the orient with new lustre burn, And Spring shall soon her vital influence shed, Again attune the grove, again adorn the mead.
42. oldal - Hail, awful scenes, that calm the troubled breast, And woo the weary to profound repose ! Can Passion's wildest uproar lay to rest, And whisper comfort to the man of woes ! Here Innocence may wander, safe from foes, And Contemplation soar on seraph wings.
11. oldal - Silent when glad ; affectionate, though shy ; And now his look was most demurely sad ; And now he laugh'd aloud, yet none knew why. The neighbours star'd and sigh'd, yet bless'd the lad : Some deem'd him wondrous wise, and some believed him mad.
45. oldal - Let Vanity adorn the marble tomb With trophies, rhymes, and scutcheons of renown, In the deep dungeon of some gothic dome, Where night and desolation ever frown. Mine be the breezy hill that skirts the down; Where a green grassy turf is all I crave, With here and there a violet bestrown, Fast by a brook, or fountain's murmuring wave; And many an evening sun shine sweetly on my grave.
xxxiv. oldal - Whoever wishes to attain an English style, familiar but not coarse, and elegant but not ostentatious, must give his days and nights to the volumes of Addison...