The Poetical Register, and Repository of Fugitive Poetry for ..., Volume 2F. and C. Rivington, 1803 |
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Page xv
Inscription on a jutting Stone , over a Spring Page 338 The Poor Village Maid , by W. Case , Junior Serenade , by Mr. Harwood Song , from Moliere 339 341 Ode , from the Persian of Hafiz , by J. M. Good , Esq ; The Folly of Atheism , an ...
Inscription on a jutting Stone , over a Spring Page 338 The Poor Village Maid , by W. Case , Junior Serenade , by Mr. Harwood Song , from Moliere 339 341 Ode , from the Persian of Hafiz , by J. M. Good , Esq ; The Folly of Atheism , an ...
Page 11
... poor Life's coëval leaves Hang thinly scatter'd round , And not a breeze can blow but drives Some trembler to the ground ; May the firm few that brave Time's circling blast , Cling to their early stock of Amity more fast ! HYMN TO OLD ...
... poor Life's coëval leaves Hang thinly scatter'd round , And not a breeze can blow but drives Some trembler to the ground ; May the firm few that brave Time's circling blast , Cling to their early stock of Amity more fast ! HYMN TO OLD ...
Page 19
... Poor Alleyn distracted , his arms fondly threw Round his now dying Mabel , kind , lovely , and true ; And his lips to her cold lips he press'd . On his bosom so faithful her breath she resign'd , And her eyelids his trembling hand ...
... Poor Alleyn distracted , his arms fondly threw Round his now dying Mabel , kind , lovely , and true ; And his lips to her cold lips he press'd . On his bosom so faithful her breath she resign'd , And her eyelids his trembling hand ...
Page 42
Or burn the porridge to the pot next day , In vain for this poor barefoot friar they lay A peter - penny on the clean swept floor , Or put an ouzle's egg behind the door . Heedless he passes , but with sprigs of rue Flings on the ...
Or burn the porridge to the pot next day , In vain for this poor barefoot friar they lay A peter - penny on the clean swept floor , Or put an ouzle's egg behind the door . Heedless he passes , but with sprigs of rue Flings on the ...
Page 50
... poor Almer stood , and shiver'd in his view . 8 . His cloak was all of Lincoln cloth , so fine ! With a gold button fasten'd near his chin ; His loose , white robe was edg'd with gilded twine , And his peak'd shoes a Lordling's might ...
... poor Almer stood , and shiver'd in his view . 8 . His cloak was all of Lincoln cloth , so fine ! With a gold button fasten'd near his chin ; His loose , white robe was edg'd with gilded twine , And his peak'd shoes a Lordling's might ...
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Autres éditions - Tout afficher
The Poetical Register, and Repository of Fugitive Poetry for ..., Volume 3 Affichage du livre entier - 1804 |
Expressions et termes fréquents
Almer Anacreon ANNA SEWARD Bard beam beauty bend beneath blank verse blest bloom bosom bowers breast breath bright Britons brow charms cold dark dear death deep dread E'en EDMUND L EPIGRAM fair fame Fancy fate fear feel flowers fond frown gale gay bowers gentle glowing grace grave hail hand hear heart Heaven hope hour light lonely lov'd lyre maid MARISCHAL COLLEGE mind mourn Muse ne'er night numbers o'er ORIEL COLLEGE pale peace plain pleasure poem poetical pow'r praise pride rapture rise round sacred scene shade shine shore sighs smile soft song SONNET sorrow soul sound spirit storm strain stream sweet SYLPH tear tempest tender Theatre Royal thee thine thou thro toil tomb trembling vale verse Village Maid VIRGIL'S TOMB Virtue voice wave weep wild wing youth
Fréquemment cités
Page 232 - 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.
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 308 - Who gave you your invulnerable life, Your strength, your speed, your fury, and your joy, Unceasing thunder and eternal foam? And who commanded (and the silence came), Here let the billows stiffen, and have rest?
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 231 - 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 244 - How seldom, friend, a good great man inherits Honour or wealth with all his worth and pains ! It sounds like stories from the land of spirits, If any man obtain that which he merits, Or any merit that which he obtains.
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 307 - O struggling with the darkness all the night, And visited all night by troops of stars, Or when they climb the sky or when they sink...
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!
Page 308 - Ye lightnings, the dread arrows of the clouds ! Ye signs and wonders of the elements ! Utter forth God, and fill the hills with praise ! Thou too, hoar Mount!