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adieu Alps arras bee-hives bend bids blest blush breast breath'd breathe breeze calm cell chain'd charm Chas'd Cicero cliff clime clos'd clouds confest controul coursers delight disco dreams dusky echoes faded feeling fled flings fond gale gaz'd Genii gilds glows Gout grove hail hanging wood Hark heart heav'n Hence Hist hour hues hung inspires light live Loire lov'd lustre magic Maximian melts mind mould Muse native Navarre night Note f o'er paus'd pensive PLEASURES OF MEMORY Plut quam rapture resign'd reveal'd rise round rude sacred scene seraphic shade shadowy shelter'd shine sigh silent sleep smile soft song sooth sooth'd soul sphere spirit spring steals sweet swell tears thee thine thou thought thro trace trembling triumphs truth Twas twilight vale Venice Virgil's tomb virtue wake wave weep wild wing youth
69. oldal - Pour round her path a stream of living light ; And gild those pure and perfect realms of rest, Where virtue triumphs, and her sons are blest ! SAMUEL ROGERS.
28. oldal - Tho' all, that knew him, know his face no more, His faithful dog shall tell his joy to each, With that mute eloquence which passes speech.— And see, the master but returns to die! Yet who shall bid the watchful servant fly ? The blasts of heaven, the drenching dews of earth, The wanton insults of unfeeling mirth, These, when to guard Misfortune's sacred grave, Will firm Fidelity exult to brave.
15. oldal - To soothe and sweeten all the cares we know ; Whose glad suggestions still each vain alarm, When nature fades and life forgets to charm; Thee would the Muse invoke! — to thee belong The sage's precept and the poet's song. What softened views thy magic glass reveals, When o'er the landscape Time's meek twilight steals!
161. oldal - That very law* which moulds a tear, And bids it trickle from its source, — That law preserves the earth a sphere, And guides the planets in their course.
156. oldal - Still, still he views the parting look she gave. Her gentle spirit, lightly hovering o'er, Attends his little bark from pole to pole ; And, when the beating billows round him roar, Whispers sweet hope to soothe his troubled soul. Carved is her name in many a spicy grove, In many a plantain-forest, waving wide ; Where dusky youths in painted plumage rove, And giant palms o'er-arch the golden tide.
20. oldal - Lulled in the countless chambers of the brain, Our thoughts are linked by many a hidden chain. Awake but one, and lo, what myriads rise! * Each stamps its image as the other flies. Each, as the various avenues of sense Delight or sorrow to the soul dispense, Brightens or fades; yet all, with magic art, Controul the latent fibres of the heart.
184. oldal - She sports her lovely face at public places ; And with blue, laughing eyes, behind her fan, First acts her part with that great actor, MAN. Too soon a flirt, approach her and she flies...
68. oldal - When thy last look, ere thought and feeling fled, A mingled gleam of hope and triumph shed ; What to thy soul its glad assurance gave, Its hope in death, its triumph o'er the grave ? The sweet Remembrance of unblemished youth, The still inspiring voice of Innocence and Truth...
167. oldal - Mark'd by the wild wolf for his prey, From desert cave or hanging wood. And while the torrent thunders loud, And as the echoing cliffs reply, The huts peep o'er the morning cloud, Perch'd, like an eagle's nest, on high. THE BOY OF EOREMOND. " Say, what remains when Hope is fled*'' She answer'd, " Endless weeping !" For in the herdsman's eye she read Who in his shroud lay sleeping.