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arms beauty beneath bliſs boaſt breaſt bright cauſe charms comes dare dear death e'er eaſe Epigram ev'ry eyes face fair fall fame fate fear feel fire firſt gave give grace hand hear heart Heav'n Hill honours hope hour human Lady laſt late leave light live look Lord lover maid mean mind morn moſt muſe muſt native Nature ne'er never night nymph o'er once pain peace play pleaſe pleaſure praiſe pride prove riſe roſe ſaid ſame ſay ſcene ſee ſenſe ſhall ſhe ſhould ſmile ſoft ſome ſoul ſpeak ſtill ſtrain ſuch ſure ſweet teach tear tell thee theſe thoſe thou thought true truth Twas virtue voice whoſe wife wiſh youth
35. oldal - To form that harmony of soul and face, Where beauty shines the mirror of the mind. Such was the Maid, that in the morn of youth, In virgin innocence, in Nature's pride, Blest with each art that owes its charm to truth, Sunk in her Father's fond embrace, and died. He weeps...
217. oldal - And thought my way was all through fairy ground, Beneath thy azure sky, and golden sun, Where first my Muse to lisp her notes begun! While pensive Memory traces back the round, Which fills the varied interval between ; Much pleasure, more of sorrow, marks the scene.
96. oldal - Day; I hear the voice of trumpet and hautboy. No, now I see them near — oh, these are they Who come in crowds to welcome thee from Troy. Hail to the bard whom long as lost we mourn'd, From siege, from battle, and from storm return'd.
97. oldal - Yea peers, and mighty dukes, with ribbands blue (True blue, fair emblem of unstained breast). Others I see, as noble, and more true, By no...
101. oldal - All this, my friends, I owe to Homer's strain, On whose strong pinions I exalt my lay. What from contending cities did he gain ? 165 And what rewards his grateful country pay ? None, none were paid — why then all this for me ? These honours, Homer, had been just to thee.
38. oldal - Gibbon shall teach me how to dress 'em In terms select and terse ; Jones teach me modesty and Greek ; Smith, how to think ; Burke, how to speak ; And Beauclerk to converse.
97. oldal - What lady's that to whom he gently bends? Who knows not her? Ah, those are Wortley's eyes. How art thou honour'd, number 'd with her friends; For she distinguishes the good and wise.
38. oldal - Dear knight of Plympton, teach me how To suffer, with unruffled brow, And smile serene, like thine ; The jest uncouth or truth severe, To such apply my deafest ear, And calmly drink my wine.
194. oldal - Hail, sylvan wonders, hail ! and hail the hand, Whose native taste thy native charms display'd, And taught one little acre to command Each envied happiness of scene, and shade. Is there a hill, whose distant azure bounds The ample range of Scarsdale's proud domain, A mountain hoar, that yon...