Poems, 2. kötetJ. Johnson, 1800 |
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againſt becauſe beneath beſt boaſt caufe cauſe cloſe courſe dæmons defign diftant dream earth eaſe Elfe elſe eſcape ev'n ev'ry facred fafe faft fame fcenes feed feek feel feem ferve fhade fhall fhine fhould fhow fide figh fight filent fince firft firſt fkies fleep flow'rs fome fong foon form'd foul ftand ftill ftream fuch fweet grace happineſs heart heav'n himſelf honour houſe itſelf John Gilpin juft juſt laft laſt leaft leaſt lefs leſs loft loſe meaſure mind miſchief moft moſt mufic muft muſt nature never o'er once pleas'd pleaſe pleaſure pow'r praiſe purpoſe reft reſt ſcene ſchools ſeems ſeen ſhall ſhe ſhow ſkill ſmile ſpeak ſport ſpot ſpread ſtate ſtill ſuch ſweet tafte taſk thee thefe their's themſelves theſe thine thofe thoſe thou thouſand truth uſe virtue wafte whofe whoſe wind wiſdom worth
Népszerű szakaszok
327. oldal - JOHN GILPIN was a citizen Of credit and renown: A train-band captain eke was he Of famous London town. John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear, " Though wedded we have been These twice ten tedious years, yet we No holiday have seen. "To-morrow is our wedding-day, And we will then repair Unto the Bell at Edmonton All in a chaise and pair.
40. oldal - I would not have a slave to till my ground, To carry me, to fan me while I sleep, And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth That sinews bought and sold have ever earn'd.
119. oldal - tis the twanging horn ! O'er yonder bridge, That with its wearisome but needful length Bestrides the wintry flood, in which the moon Sees her unwrinkled face reflected bright...
335. oldal - Said Gilpin — So am I ! But yet his horse was not a whit Inclined to tarry there ; For why? — his owner had a house Full ten miles off, at Ware. So like an arrow swift he flew, Shot by an archer strong ; So did he fly — which brings me to The middle of my song.
40. oldal - As human Nature's broadest, foulest blot, Chains him, and tasks him, and exacts his sweat With stripes, that Mercy with a bleeding heart Weeps when she sees inflicted on a beast.
41. oldal - Slaves cannot breathe in England; if their lungs Receive our air, that moment they are free; They touch our country and their shackles fall.
34. oldal - God made the country, and man made the town. What wonder then that health and virtue, gifts, That can alone make sweet the bitter draught, That life holds out to all, should most abound And least be threaten'd in the fields and groves?
56. oldal - Would I describe a preacher, such as Paul, Were he on earth, would hear, approve, and own — Paul should himself direct me. I would trace His master-strokes, and draw from his design.
189. oldal - Are they not his by a peculiar right, And by an emphasis of interest his, Whose eye they fill with tears of holy joy, Whose heart with praise, and whose exalted mind With worthy thoughts of that unwearied love That plann'd, and built, and still upholds a world So...
333. oldal - The bottles twain, behind his back, were shattered at a blow. Down ran the wine into the road, most piteous to be seen, Which made his horse's flanks to smoke as they had basted been. But still he...