Poetical WorksW. Suttaby and C. Corrall, 1806 - 72 sidor |
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Sida 22
... feel : For not alone he nurs'd the poet's flame , But reach'd from Virtue's hand the patriot's steel . 1 " But who is he whom later garlands grace ; Who left a while o'er Hybla's dews to rove , With trembling eyes thy dreary steps to ...
... feel : For not alone he nurs'd the poet's flame , But reach'd from Virtue's hand the patriot's steel . 1 " But who is he whom later garlands grace ; Who left a while o'er Hybla's dews to rove , With trembling eyes thy dreary steps to ...
Sida 23
... feel : His cypress wreath my meed decree , And I , O Fear , will dwell with thee ! i . ODE TO SIMPLICITY . O THOU , by Nature taught To breathe her genuine thought , In numbers warmly pure , and sweetly strong ; Who first , on mountains ...
... feel : His cypress wreath my meed decree , And I , O Fear , will dwell with thee ! i . ODE TO SIMPLICITY . O THOU , by Nature taught To breathe her genuine thought , In numbers warmly pure , and sweetly strong ; Who first , on mountains ...
Sida 26
... feel unmix'd her flame ! The band , as fairy legends say , .. Was wove on that creating day When He , who call'd with thought to birth Yon tented sky , this laughing earth , And drest with springs and forests tall , And pour'd the main ...
... feel unmix'd her flame ! The band , as fairy legends say , .. Was wove on that creating day When He , who call'd with thought to birth Yon tented sky , this laughing earth , And drest with springs and forests tall , And pour'd the main ...
Sida 30
... feeling hour , When most its sounds would court thy ears , Let not my shell's misguided pow'rt E'er draw thy sad , thy mindful tears . No , Freedom , no , I will not tell How Rome , before thy weeping face , With heaviest sound , a ...
... feeling hour , When most its sounds would court thy ears , Let not my shell's misguided pow'rt E'er draw thy sad , thy mindful tears . No , Freedom , no , I will not tell How Rome , before thy weeping face , With heaviest sound , a ...
Sida 32
... feel'st the strains , One holjer name alone remains ; The perfect spell shall then avail , Hail nymph , ador'd by Britain , hail ! ANTISTROPHE , Beyond the measure vast of thought , The works , the wizzard Time has wrought ! The Gaul ...
... feel'st the strains , One holjer name alone remains ; The perfect spell shall then avail , Hail nymph , ador'd by Britain , hail ! ANTISTROPHE , Beyond the measure vast of thought , The works , the wizzard Time has wrought ! The Gaul ...
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The Poetical Works: With a Sketch of His Life and Writings Oliver Goldsmith Obegränsad förhandsgranskning - 1829 |
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Abra amidst ANTISTROPHE bards beautiful beneath blank verse blest bliss boast breast breathe charms cheerful Circassia Collins dear death deep delight dews drest e'en ECLOGUE Elegy Eton College ev'ry eyes fair fame Fancy fate Fear fire fond genius GOLDSMITH grace Gray green grief grove hail hand happy heart heaven Henry VI hour Julius Cæsar king land lord lov'd lubber fiend lyre maid Margaret of Anjou mind mountain's Muse native nature ne'er night numbers o'er Odin OLIVER GOLDSMITH once pain passions Petrarch Pindar Pity plain pleas'd pleasure poems poet poetical poetry pride rage reign rise round scene shade shepherds shore sigh smiling song Sophocles sorrow soul sound spread stanza swain sweet tears thee thine THOMAS GRAY thou thought thro toil train truth Twas vale verse virtues voice wealth weep Where'er wild youth
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Sida 28 - Sweet smiling village, loveliest of the lawn, Thy sports are fled, and all thy charms withdrawn ; Amidst thy bowers the tyrant's hand is seen, And desolation saddens all thy green: One only master grasps the whole domain, And half a tillage stints thy smiling plain...
Sida 62 - 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.
Sida 61 - And in that town a dog was found, As many dogs there be, Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, And curs of low degree.
Sida 29 - tis hard to combat, learns to fly! For him no wretches, born to work and weep, Explore the mine, or tempt the dangerous deep; No surly porter stands in guilty state, To spurn imploring famine from the gate...
Sida 49 - Forbear, my son," the hermit cries, " To tempt the dangerous gloom ; For yonder faithless phantom flies To lure thee to thy doom. • • Here to the houseless child of want My door is open still ; And though my portion is but scant, I give it with good will. " Then turn to-night, and freely share Whate'er my cell bestows ; My rushy couch, and frugal fare, My blessing and repose.
Sida 62 - He gain'd from heav'n ('twas all he wish'd) a friend. No farther seek his merits to disclose, Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, (There they alike in trembling hope repose,) The bosom of his Father and his God.
Sida 27 - The bashful virgin's sidelong looks of love, The matron's glance that would those looks reprove — These were thy charms, sweet village ! sports like these With sweet succession taught e'en toil to please ; These round thy bowers their cheerful influence shed, These were thy charms — but all these charms are fled.
Sida 31 - To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given, But all his serious thoughts had rest in Heaven. As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form, Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm...
Sida 17 - Now sinks at last, or feebly mans the soul; While low delights, succeeding fast behind, In happier meanness occupy the mind : As in those domes, where Caesars once bore sway, Defaced by time and tottering in decay, There in the ruin, heedless of the dead, The shelter-seeking peasant builds his shed ; And, wondering man could want the larger pile, Exults, and owns his cottage with a smile.
Sida 15 - The shuddering tenant of the frigid zone Boldly proclaims that happiest spot his own : Extols the treasures of his stormy seas, And his long nights of revelry and ease ; The naked negro, panting at the line, Boasts of his golden sands and palmy wine ; Basks in the glare, or stems the tepid wave, And thanks his gods for all the good they gave. Such is the patriot's boast, where'er we roam ; His first, best country ever is at home...