Poems

Framsida
John Bumpus, 1818 - 420 sidor

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Sida 328 - I would not enter on my list of friends (Though graced with polished manners and fine sense Yet wanting sensibility) the man Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.
Sida 387 - I learned at last submission to my lot, But, though I less deplored thee, ne'er forgot. Where once we dwelt, our name is heard no more, Children not thine have trod my nursery floor...
Sida 150 - How fleet is a glance of the mind ! Compared with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind, And the swift-winged arrows of light. When I think of my own native land, In a moment I seem to be there ; But alas ! recollection at hand Soon hurries me back to despair. But the sea-fowl is gone to her nest, The beast is laid down in his lair, Even here is a season of rest, And I to my cabin repair. There's mercy in every place, And mercy, encouraging thought ! Gives even affliction a grace,...
Sida 387 - All this, and more endearing still than all, Thy constant flow of love, that knew no fall, Ne'er roughened by those cataracts and breaks That humour interposed too often makes; All this still legible in memory's page, And still to be so to my latest age, Adds joy to duty, makes me glad to pay Such honours to thee as my numbers may; Perhaps a frail memorial, but sincere, Not scorned in heaven, though little noticed here.
Sida 387 - Tis now become a history little known, That once we called the pastoral house our own. Short-lived possession ! but the record fair, That memory keeps of all thy kindness there, Still outlives many a storm, that has effaced A thousand other themes less deeply traced.
Sida 317 - Knowledge dwells In heads replete with thoughts of other men, Wisdom in minds attentive to their own. Knowledge, a rude unprofitable mass, The mere materials with which wisdom builds, Till smoothed and squared and fitted to its place, Does but encumber whom it seems to enrich.
Sida 43 - Just knows, and knows no more, her Bible true A. truth the brilliant Frenchman never knew ; And in that charter reads with sparkling eyes Her title to a treasure in the skies.
Sida 388 - Shoots into port at some well-havened isle, Where spices breathe and brighter seasons smile, There sits quiescent on the floods, that show Her beauteous form reflected clear below, While airs impregnated with incense play Around her, fanning light her streamers gay; So thou, with sails how swift! hast reached the shore ' Where tempests never beat nor billows roar;' And thy loved consort on the dangerous tide Of life, long since has anchored at thy side.
Sida 384 - WHEN the British warrior queen, Bleeding from the Roman rods, Sought, with' an indignant mien, Counsel of her country's gods, Sage beneath the spreading oak Sat the Druid, hoary chief; Every burning word he spoke Full of rage and full of grief.
Sida 196 - Were shattered at a blow. Down ran the wine into the road, Most piteous to be seen, Which made his horse's flanks to smoke As they had basted been. But still he seemed to carry weight, With leathern girdle braced; For all might see the bottle-necks Still dangling at his waist.

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