The Poetical Register, and Repository of Fugitive Poetry for 1801-11, Volume 2F.C. & J. Rivington, 1803 |
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Page 5
... bend the spray , The moist , and early vanish'd Sun , That shrinks from April's wayward Day . Now in that little hall's dear grate No social embers glow the while , To us so kindly to disclose The mutual glance , the tender smile ...
... bend the spray , The moist , and early vanish'd Sun , That shrinks from April's wayward Day . Now in that little hall's dear grate No social embers glow the while , To us so kindly to disclose The mutual glance , the tender smile ...
Page 25
... bend your steps ye fair etherial powers ! On this bright slope , with plastic fingers , guide These youthful oaks to mount in sylvan pride ; Save them , sweet guardians , when mid polar snows The Sire of Storms awakes from dread repose ...
... bend your steps ye fair etherial powers ! On this bright slope , with plastic fingers , guide These youthful oaks to mount in sylvan pride ; Save them , sweet guardians , when mid polar snows The Sire of Storms awakes from dread repose ...
Page 48
... bent low the leafy spray , And the pied Goldfinch sung the live long day . It was the pride and manhood of the year , And all the glowing ground did richest livery wear . 2 . The Sun was gleaming in the midst of day , Dead was the air ...
... bent low the leafy spray , And the pied Goldfinch sung the live long day . It was the pride and manhood of the year , And all the glowing ground did richest livery wear . 2 . The Sun was gleaming in the midst of day , Dead was the air ...
Page 52
... Bend the bow , and wield the lance ; - Shafts are whizzing on the string : - Hark - the shouts of combat ring ; Nerve the limbs , the bosom steel ; Men their wounds no longer feel . God of Armies hear . - Long these eyes have pour'd a ...
... Bend the bow , and wield the lance ; - Shafts are whizzing on the string : - Hark - the shouts of combat ring ; Nerve the limbs , the bosom steel ; Men their wounds no longer feel . God of Armies hear . - Long these eyes have pour'd a ...
Page 76
... bends not o'er the mansion of the dead , Where loveliness and grace in ruins lie ; In sure and certain hope he lifts his head , And Faith presents her in her native sky . G. H. D. IMITATION OF HORACE , BOOK 2. ODE 14 . TO 76.
... bends not o'er the mansion of the dead , Where loveliness and grace in ruins lie ; In sure and certain hope he lifts his head , And Faith presents her in her native sky . G. H. D. IMITATION OF HORACE , BOOK 2. ODE 14 . TO 76.
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The Poetical Register, and Repository of Fugitive Poetry for 1801-11, Volume 2 Affichage du livre entier - 1803 |
The Poetical Register, and Repository of Fugitive Poetry for 1801-11, Volume 2 Affichage du livre entier - 1803 |
Expressions et termes fréquents
Almer ANNA SEWARD beam beauty beneath blest bloom bosom bowers breast breath bright charms clouds cold dark dear death deep delight dread Dundrennan Abbey EDMUND L EPIGRAM fair fame Fancy fate fear fond frown gay bowers gentle glow grace grave grief hail hand hear heart Heaven hope hour LEFTLY light lonely lov'd Lupercio lyre maid MARISCHAL COLLEGE Metastasio mind Monody mourn Muse ne'er NEREID night numbers o'er pale peace plain pleasure poem pow'r praise pride R. A. Davenport rapture rise round sacred scene shade shine shore sighs smile soft song SONNET sorrow soul spirit storm strain stream sweet SWIFT SYLPH SYLPHIL tear tender thee thine thou thro toil tomb trembling vale verse Village Maid VIRGIL'S TOMB virtue vision of delight wave weep wild winds youth
Fréquemment cités
Page 229 - ON Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat, at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.
Page 191 - And I saw no temple therein: for the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are the temple of it. And the city had no need of the sun, neither of the moon, to shine in it: for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof.
Page 400 - Why did all-creating Nature Make the plant for which we toil — Sighs must fan it, tears must water, Sweat of ours must dress the soil. Think, ye masters, iron-hearted, Lolling at your jovial boards ; Think how many backs have smarted For the sweets your cane affords.
Page 306 - HAST thou a charm to stay the morning-star In his steep course ? So long he seems to pause On thy bald awful head, O sovran BLANC ! The Arve and Arveiron at thy base Rave ceaselessly ; but thou, most awful Form ! Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines, How silently ! Around thee and above Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black, An ebon mass : methinks thou piercest it, As with a wedge ! But when I look again...
Page 308 - Ye Ice-falls! ye that from the mountain's brow Adown enormous ravines slope amain Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice, And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge! Motionless torrents! silent cataracts! Who made you glorious as the Gates of Heaven Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? GOD! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, GOD!
Page 190 - And I will multiply the fruit of the tree, and the increase of the field, that ye shall receive no more reproach of famine among the heathen.
Page 230 - Tis morn ; but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, Where furious Frank and fiery Hun Shout in their sulphurous canopy. The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory or the grave ! Wave, Munich ! all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry! Few, few shall part where many meet...
Page 183 - And when all the children of Israel saw how the fire came down, and the glory of the Lord upon the house, they bowed themselves with their faces to the ground upon the pavement, and worshipped, and praised the Lord, saying, For he is good ; for his mercy endureth for ever.
Page 307 - Arve and Arveiron at thy base Rave ceaselessly; but thou, most awful Form! Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines, How silently! Around thee and above Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black, An ebon mass: methinks thou piercest it, As with a wedge! But when I look again, It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, Thy habitation from eternity! 0 dread and silent Mount! I gazed upon thee, Till thou, still present to the bodily sense, Didst vanish from my thought: entranced in prayer 1...
Page 183 - And the house, when it was in building, was built of stone made ready before it was brought thither : so that there was neither hammer nor axe nor any tool of iron heard in the house, while it was in building.