Autres éditions - Tout afficher
abstract admired Akenside Akenside's Anna Seward appeared Augustan ballad Batheaston beauty Beggar's Opera Blake Blake's charm Chatterton Collins Collins's Cowper Crabbe criticism dark death delight despair disillusion Dryden Eclogues eighteenth century Elegy Eloisa to Abelard emotion English poetry expression eyes Fancy Fear feeling genius Goldsmith grace Gray Gray's heart heroic couplet Hill human Ibid imagination imitation influence infra inspired Johnson Joseph Warton Lady later Letters light lines literary literature live love of nature lyric Lyrical Ballads melancholy mood Muse mystic never night o'er passion Percy Pindaric pleasure poem poet poet's poetic Pope Pope's Prior reason romantic sadness says Shenstone simplicity sings solitude song sorrow soul Spenser spirit stanza strange sweet Swift tear temperament thee Thomas Warton Thomson thou thought tion Unwin verse Walpole Wordsworth writes written wrote wyllowe Young
Page 19 - REAPER BEHOLD her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland lass ! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass ! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain ; O listen ! for the vale profound Is overflowing with the sound.
Page 295 - When lovely woman stoops to folly. And finds, too late, that men betray. What charm can soothe her melancholy, What art can wash her guilt away? The only art her guilt to cover. To hide her shame from every eye, To give repentance to her lover, And wring his bosom, — is to die.
Page 403 - Look on the rising sun: there God does live, And gives his light, and gives his heat away; And flowers and trees and beasts and men receive Comfort in morning, joy in the noonday. "And we are put on earth a little space, That we may learn to bear the beams of love; And these black bodies and this sunburnt face Are but a cloud and like a shady grove.
Page 389 - In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire? And what shoulder, and what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand? and what dread feet? What the hammer? what the chain? In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? what dread grasp Dare its deadly terrors clasp? When the stars threw...
Page 164 - To Contemplation's sober eye Such is the race of Man : And they that creep, and they that fly Shall end where they began. Alike the busy and the gay But flutter thro...
Page 389 - What the hammer? What the chain? In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? What dread grasp Dare its deadly terrors clasp? When the stars threw down their spears, And water'd heaven with their tears, Did He smile His work to see? Did He who made the lamb make thee...
Page 382 - AH! SUN-FLOWER Ah Sun-flower! weary of time, Who countest the steps of the Sun, Seeking after that sweet golden clime Where the traveller's journey is done: Where the Youth pined away with desire, And the pale Virgin shrouded in snow, Arise from their graves and aspire Where my Sun-flower wishes to go.
Page 292 - The busy day, the peaceful night, Unfelt, uncounted, glided by; His frame was firm — his powers were bright, Though now his eightieth year was nigh. Then with no fiery throbbing pain, No cold gradations of decay, Death broke at once the vital chain, And freed his soul the nearest way.
Page 147 - How sleep the brave, who sink to rest, By all their country's wishes blest ! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.
Page 413 - I went to the Garden of Love, And saw what I never had seen: A chapel was built in the midst, Where I used to play on the green. And the gates of this chapel were shut, And 'Thou shalt not' writ over the door; So I turned to the Garden of Love, That so many sweet flowers bore.