Poems

Első borító
T. Cadell, Jun.&W. Davies, 1796 - 199 oldal
 

Kiválasztott oldalak

Más kiadások - Összes megtekintése

Gyakori szavak és kifejezések

Népszerű szakaszok

138. oldal - I laughed, and danced, and talked, and sung : And, proud of health, of freedom vain, Dreamed not of sorrow, care, or pain ; Concluding, in those hours of glee, That all the world was made for me. But when the...
190. oldal - Or wafte my time with fuch fine folk ; " Better to follow real apes, " Than monkies tend in human...
102. oldal - We measure life by time, and time by care; And I with Prior think that "Fame's a breath, And Life an ill...
4. oldal - afk no kind return in Love," Its hopes and fears, you would not prove, But fcorn a lover's name ; You " feek no tempting charm to pleafe," And figh for that infipid eafe, That ev'ry brute may claim.
126. oldal - You seem by Nature's self design'd All Nature's love to claim. How can so small a space contain So wondrous large a heart ? I fear this riddle to explain Would baffle every art. 'Twas thus I reason'd, till, at last, Made by experience wise, 'Twas only at my folly past I felt the least surprise. Kind Nature's wisdom I confest, Who, with delightful art, Whate'er she borrowed from the rest, Has added to the heart. Your sincere Friend and Admirer, ALDIBORONTIPHOSCOPHORNIO.
137. oldal - Lady Tuite (IRELAND AND ENGLAND, 1764-1850) To a Friend, Fearful of being Forgotten in Absence Time, while it Beauty's pow'r impairs, Will only add to thine; The di'mond, as its surface wears, Does but the brighter shine. Nor think regard, by Worth inspir'd, E'en absence can subdue; The sun, howe'er so long retir'd, Still finds the dial true. (1796...
89. oldal - Thyfelf, and what is dearer far, thy friend, Nor think that him, by whom ye both were made, Will leave her merit, or thy truth unpaid.
108. oldal - My feeble voice in pray'r, my heart in praife ; (If gracious heav'n will deign that pray'r to hear ;) Oh may this day, thro...
162. oldal - I leave a conftant heart, A heart that will be thine alone, As true, as tender as thine own. As once of old the trembling dove Was...
138. oldal - Dreamt not of sorrow, cure, or pain ; Concluding, in those hours of glee, That all the world was made for me. But when the days of trial came, When sickness shook this trembling frame, When folly's idle dreams were o'er, And I could dance and sing no more, It then occurred how sad 'twould bo Were this world only made for me.

Bibliográfiai információk