Specimens of the British Poets: Churchill, 1764, to Johnson, 1784Thomas Campbell John Murray, 1819 |
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... nature , looking with neglect On all she once held dear , what fear , at strife With fainting virtue for the means of life , Might make this coward flesh , in love with breath , Shudd'ring at pain , and shrinking back from death , In ...
... nature , looking with neglect On all she once held dear , what fear , at strife With fainting virtue for the means of life , Might make this coward flesh , in love with breath , Shudd'ring at pain , and shrinking back from death , In ...
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... Nature , kind , indulgent parent , gave To qualify the blockhead for a knave ; With that smooth falsehood , whose appearance charms , And reason of each wholesome doubt disarms , Which to the lowest depths of guile descends , By vilest ...
... Nature , kind , indulgent parent , gave To qualify the blockhead for a knave ; With that smooth falsehood , whose appearance charms , And reason of each wholesome doubt disarms , Which to the lowest depths of guile descends , By vilest ...
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... nature on one happy mind , A motley figure , of the fribble tribe , Which heart can scarce conceive , or pen describe , Came simp'ring on : to ascertain whose sex Twelve sage impannell'd matrons would perplex . Nor male , nor female ...
... nature on one happy mind , A motley figure , of the fribble tribe , Which heart can scarce conceive , or pen describe , Came simp'ring on : to ascertain whose sex Twelve sage impannell'd matrons would perplex . Nor male , nor female ...
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... nature there : Appointed , with plain Truth , to guard the chair . The pageant saw , and blasted with her frown , To its first state of nothing melted down . Nor shall the Muse ( for even there the pride Of this vain nothing shall be ...
... nature there : Appointed , with plain Truth , to guard the chair . The pageant saw , and blasted with her frown , To its first state of nothing melted down . Nor shall the Muse ( for even there the pride Of this vain nothing shall be ...
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... real plan , He could not , for a moment , sink the man . In whate'er cast his character was laid , Self still , like oil , upon the surface play'd . 1 Nature , in spite of all his skill , crept 14 CHARLES CHURCHILL .
... real plan , He could not , for a moment , sink the man . In whate'er cast his character was laid , Self still , like oil , upon the surface play'd . 1 Nature , in spite of all his skill , crept 14 CHARLES CHURCHILL .
Expressions et termes fréquents
ANTISTROPHE beauty behold beneath blessings blest bliss bloom BORN bosom brave breast breath charms dear death delight dreadful dydd e'er earth eternal Eulogius ev'ry fair fame fancy fate fear form'd frae FRANCIS FAWKES genius GEORGE ALEXANDER STEVENS grief hand hear heart Heaven honour hour JAMES GRAINGER kynge labour Lord mild ale mind MONODY mournful nature nature's night Night Thoughts numbers o'er pain pale Palemon passions PAUL WHITEHEAD peace plain pleasure poem poet poetical poetry poor pow'r praise pride rage reign RICHARD JAGO rise Rodmond round scene Selim shade shore skies sleep smile soft song soul spread swain sweet Syr Charles taste taught tears tender Thatt thee Thenne thine THOMAS CHATTERTON thou thought toil train trembling university of Edinburgh vale verse virtue wave wealth wild wings wretch wyfe wylle Wyth ynne youth
Fréquemment cités
Page 280 - In all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs - and God has given my share I still had hopes my latest hours to crown, Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting by repose.
Page 281 - The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool, The playful children just let loose from school ; The watch-dog's voice that bay'd the whispering wind, And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind ; These all in sweet confusion sought the shade, And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made.
Page 278 - Sweet smiling village, loveliest of the lawn, Thy sports are fled and all thy charms withdrawn; Amidst thy bowers the tyrant's hand is seen, And desolation saddens all thy green: One only master grasps the whole domain, And half a tillage stints thy smiling plain: 40 No more thy glassy brook reflects the day, But, choked with sedges, works its weedy way.
Page 286 - Ye friends to truth, ye statesmen, who survey The rich man's joys increase, the poor's decay, 'Tis yours to judge how wide the limits stand Between a splendid and a happy land.
Page 285 - Yes ! let the rich deride, the proud disdain, These simple blessings of the lowly train, To me more dear, congenial to my heart, One native charm, than all the gloss of art : Spontaneous joys, where nature has its play, The soul adopts, and owns their first-born sway ; Lightly they frolic o'er the vacant mind, Unenvied, unmolested, unconfined.
Page 189 - Fill high the sparkling bowl, The rich repast prepare ; Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast : Close by the regal chair Fell Thirst and Famine scowl A baleful smile upon their baffled guest. Heard ye the din of battle bray, Lance to lance, and horse to horse? Long years of havoc urge their destined course, And thro' the kindred squadrons mow their way.
Page 288 - And pinch'd with cold, and shrinking from the shower, With heavy heart deplores that luckless hour, When idly first, ambitious of the town, She left her wheel and robes of country brown.
Page 284 - A man severe he was, and stern to view, I knew him well, and every truant knew : Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace The day's disasters in his morning face ; Full well they laughed with counterfeited glee At all his jokes, for many a joke had he ; Full well the busy whisper circling round, Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned.
Page 282 - His house was known to all the vagrant train, He chid...
Page 186 - On a rock, whose haughty brow Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, Robed in the sable garb of woe, With haggard eyes the poet stood ; (Loose his beard and hoary hair, Stream'd like a meteor to the troubled air,) And with a master's hand and prophet's fire Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre...