Overige edities - Alles bekijken
Agrippina Alcaic stanza Amor ancient Anicetus Antrobus appears atque Bard beautiful cæsura called Cambridge Cicero Claudian Comus Conyers Middleton Cowley criticism death Dodsley Dryden Dunciad Eclog edition elegant Elegy Essay Eton College expression genius Georg Gray Gray's hæc honour Horace Horace Walpole imitation king language Latin Latin language letter Lord Lucret Lucretius Luke Markland Masinissa Mason says Mason's Memoirs Mathias mihi Milt Milton mind Muse never numbers nunc o'er observations oculos Odin Ovid passage Petrarch Pindar poem poetical poetry Pope printed Prophetess published quæ rhyme Rogers satire sister smile soft song Spenser Spring stanza Statius taste thee THOMAS GRAY Thomson thou thought thro tion translation vale verse viii Virg Wakefield Walpole Walpole's Warton weep West word writings written wrote
Pagina 100 - Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth A Youth, to Fortune and to Fame unknown; Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth, And Melancholy mark'd him for her own. Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere...
Pagina 4 - Alas! regardless of their doom The little victims play; No sense have they of ills to come Nor care beyond to-day: Yet see how all around 'em wait The ministers of human fate And black Misfortune's baleful train!
Pagina 6 - Th' unfeeling for his own. Yet ah ! why should they know their fate ? Since sorrow never comes too late, And happiness too swiftly flies. Thought would destroy their paradise. No more ! where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise ! ODE IV.
Pagina 99 - The next, with dirges due in sad array, Slow through the churchway path we saw him borne ; Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay Grav'd on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Pagina 33 - You are my true and honourable wife; As dear to me, as are the ruddy drops That visit my sad heart.
Pagina 42 - But oh ! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height Descending slow their glittering skirts unroll ? Visions of glory, spare my aching sight ! Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul ! No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail.
Pagina 114 - See the wretch, that long has tost On the thorny bed of pain, At length repair his vigour lost, And breathe and walk again : The meanest floweret of the vale, The simplest note that swells the gale, The common sun, the air, the skies, To him are opening paradise.
Pagina 31 - 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 Streamed, like a meteor, to the troubled air), And with a master's hand, and prophet's fire, Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.
Pagina xcv - THE CURFEW tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...