The Poems of William CollinsH. Frowde, 1907 - 90 sidor |
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Sida xxii
... rage at this neglect and ingratitude ; even if Collins had been a confirmed lunatic in an asylum , it might be expected that his old friends would have visited him occasionally . Perhaps they did ; or perhaps Mrs. Sempill discour- aged ...
... rage at this neglect and ingratitude ; even if Collins had been a confirmed lunatic in an asylum , it might be expected that his old friends would have visited him occasionally . Perhaps they did ; or perhaps Mrs. Sempill discour- aged ...
Sida 10
... Rage ? Soon shall this Scrip its precious Load resign ; Then what but Tears and Hunger shall be thine ? Ye mute Companions of my Toils , that bear In all my Griefs a more than equal Share ! Here , where no Springs , in Murmurs break ...
... Rage ? Soon shall this Scrip its precious Load resign ; Then what but Tears and Hunger shall be thine ? Ye mute Companions of my Toils , that bear In all my Griefs a more than equal Share ! Here , where no Springs , in Murmurs break ...
Sida 11
... Rage I meet ! Oft in the Dust I view his printed Feet : And fearful ! oft , when Day's declining Light Yields her pale Empire to the Mourner Night , By Hunger rous'd , he scours the groaning Plain , Gaunt Wolves and sullen Tygers in his ...
... Rage I meet ! Oft in the Dust I view his printed Feet : And fearful ! oft , when Day's declining Light Yields her pale Empire to the Mourner Night , By Hunger rous'd , he scours the groaning Plain , Gaunt Wolves and sullen Tygers in his ...
Sida 17
... rage of Heart , with Ruin in his Hand , He blasts our Harvests , and deforms our Land . Yon Citron Grove , whence first in Fear we came , Droops its fair Honours to the conqu'ring Flame : Far fly the Swains , like us , in deep Despair ...
... rage of Heart , with Ruin in his Hand , He blasts our Harvests , and deforms our Land . Yon Citron Grove , whence first in Fear we came , Droops its fair Honours to the conqu'ring Flame : Far fly the Swains , like us , in deep Despair ...
Sida 22
... Rage , And grac'd with noblest Pomp her earliest Stage . Preserv'd thro ' Time , the speaking Scenes impart Each changeful Wish of Phaedra's tortur'd Heart ; Or paint the Curse , that mark'd the * Theban's Reign , A Bed incestuous , and ...
... Rage , And grac'd with noblest Pomp her earliest Stage . Preserv'd thro ' Time , the speaking Scenes impart Each changeful Wish of Phaedra's tortur'd Heart ; Or paint the Curse , that mark'd the * Theban's Reign , A Bed incestuous , and ...
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Abbas AGIB anecdote ANTISTROPHE Bard blest Bow'r breathe charm Chichester CHICHESTER CATHEDRAL CHICHESTER CROSS Circassia College Collins's Colonel Ross D. G. HOGARTH Death of Colonel delight demyship drest E. V. LUCAS edition Ev'n ev'ry Youth Eyes fair Fancy Fear fix'd Flow'rs fond friends Gentleman's Magazine Gilbert White Grief Grove Hand haunt Heart Heav'n Hour India Paper Introduction Isle John Home John Ragsdale Johnson Joseph Warton Langhorne letter Literary lived London lov'd Love Maid memoir midst Mind mourn Muse Music ne'er Numbers Nymph o'er Oxford India Paper Passions Payne Peace Persian Eclogues Pity Plains poems poet Poet's Poetical poetry portrait pour'd Pow'r published Rage reprinted round rove Scene SECANDER Sempill Shade Shepherds Shrine Sir Thomas Hanmer sister Song Sophocles Sound stanza sung Swain sweet Tears Thee Thomas Warton thou thought thro Toil Vale wild William Collins Winchester Wizzard WORDSWORTH written
Populära avsnitt
Sida 51 - O'erhang his wavy bed: Now air is hush'd save where the weak-eyed bat With short shrill shriek flits by on leathern wing, Or where the beetle winds His small but sullen horn, As oft he rises, 'midst the twilight path Against the pilgrim borne in heedless hum...
Sida 58 - The doubling drum with furious heat; And, though sometimes, each dreary pause between. Dejected Pity at his side Her soul-subduing voice applied, Yet still he kept his wild unalter'd mien, While each strain'd ball of sight seem'd bursting from his head.
Sida 59 - Joy's ecstatic trial; He with viny crown advancing, First to the lively pipe his hand addrest; But soon he saw the brisk awakening viol, Whose sweet entrancing voice he loved the best.
Sida 59 - Pour'd through the mellow horn her pensive soul ; And dashing soft from rocks around, Bubbling runnels join'd the sound ; Through glades and glooms the mingled measure stole, Or, o'er some haunted stream, with fond delay, Round a holy calm diffusing, Love of peace, and lonely musing, In hollow murmurs died away.
Sida 52 - midst its dreary dells, Whose walls more awful nod By thy religious gleams ! Or if chill blust'ring winds, or driving rain, Prevent my willing feet ; be mine the hut That, from the mountain's side, Views wilds, and swelling floods, And hamlets brown, and dim-discovered spires ! And hears their simple bell ! and marks o'er all Thy dewy fingers draw The gradual dusky veil...
Sida 65 - To fair Fidele's grassy tomb Soft maids and village hinds shall bring Each opening sweet of earliest bloom, And rifle all the breathing spring. No wailing ghost shall dare appear To vex with shrieks this quiet grove: But shepherd lads assemble here, And melting virgins own their love.
Sida 57 - When Music, heavenly maid, was young, While yet in early Greece she sung, The Passions oft, to hear her shell, Thronged around her magic cell...
Sida 69 - For him in vain his anxious wife shall wait, Or wander forth to meet him on his way; For him in vain, at to-fall of the day, His babes shall linger at. th' unclosing gate: Ah, ne'er shall he.
Sida xvi - ... both writers of Odes ? it is odd enough, but each is the half of a considerable man, and one the counterpart of the other. The first has but little invention, very poetical choice of expression, and a good ear. The second, a fine fancy, modelled upon the antique, a bad ear, great variety of words, and images with no choice at all. They both deserve to last some years, but will not.
Sida 51 - For when thy folding-star arising shows His paly circlet, at his warning lamp The fragrant Hours, and Elves Who slept in buds the day, And many a Nymph who wreathes her brows with sedge, And sheds the freshening dew, and, lovelier still, The pensive pleasures sweet, Prepare thy shadowy car. Then let me rove some wild and heathy scene, Or find some ruin 'midst its dreary dells, Whose walls more awful nod By thy religious gleams.