Poems, &c. Written Upon Several Occasions, and to Several Persons

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Jacob Tonson, at Shakespear's Head over-against Katherine Street in the Strand., 1722 - 284 oldal
 

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38. oldal - Then die, that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee ; How small a part of time they share, That are so wondrous sweet and fair.
62. oldal - THAT which her slender waist confined, Shall now my joyful temples bind; No monarch but would give his crown His arms might do what this has done. It was my Heaven's extremest sphere, The pale which held that lovely deer; My joy, my grief, my hope, my love, Did all within this circle move. A narrow compass! and yet there Dwelt all that's good, and all that's fair; Give me but what this ribband bound, Take all the rest the sun goes round.
106. oldal - Great Julius, on the mountains bred, A flock perhaps, or herd, had led : He *, that the world subdued, had been But the best wrestler on the green.
257. oldal - For then we know how vain it was to boast Of fleeting things, so certain to be lost. Clouds of affection from our younger eyes Conceal that emptiness which age descries. The soul's dark cottage, battered and decayed, Lets in new light through chinks that Time has made: Stronger by weakness, wiser men become As they draw near to their eternal home. Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view That stand upon the threshold of the new.
50. oldal - So every passion but fond love, Unto its own redress does move : But that alone the wretch inclines To what prevents his own designs ; Makes him lament, and sigh, and weep...
121. oldal - Whether this portion of the world were rent By the rude ocean from the continent, Or thus created, it was sure design'd To be the sacred refuge of mankind.
122. oldal - Through every land that near the ocean lies, Sounding your name, and telling dreadful news To all that piracy and rapine use.
58. oldal - That eagle's fate and mine are one, Which, on the shaft that made him die, Espied a feather of his own, Wherewith he wont to soar so high. Had Echo, with so sweet a grace, Narcissus' loud complaints returned, Not for reflection of his face, But of his voice, the boy had burned.
124. oldal - A race unconquer'd, by their clime made bold, The Caledonians, arm'd with want and cold, Have, by a fate indulgent to your fame, Been from all ages kept for you to tame. Whom the old Roman wall...
64. oldal - While in the park I sing, the listening deer Attend my passion, and forget to fear : When to the beeches I report my flame, They bow their heads, as if they felt the same. To gods appealing, when I reach their bowers, With loud complaints they answer me in showers. To thee a wild and cruel soul is given, More deaf than trees, and prouder than the Heaven ! On the head of a stag...

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