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Æsop Aristaus beauty beneath betimes boast breath call'd cause charms Cyrene death Deist delight deluge design'd distant divine dream e'en earth ease fair fame fancy fear feed feel flowers folly form'd fruit give glory grace hand happy heart Heaven honest pleasures honour human John Gilpin King labour less liberty live lost lurcher lyre mind mounted best Nature Nature's Nebaioth never nymphs o'er once peace perhaps pleasure praise prize proud prove rest riddance rural scene scorn seek seem'd sensual world shade shine sight skies sleep sloth smile song soon soul sound spare stamp'd stream sweet sweet oblivion task taste thee theme thine thou art thou hast thought toil trembling truth Twas vale vex'd virtue walk waste WILLIAM COWPER wind winter wisdom wisely store wonder worth youth
Página 247 - Toll for the brave ! Brave Kempenfelt is gone ; His last sea-fight is fought; His work of glory done. It was not in the battle ; No tempest gave the shock; She sprang no fatal leak ; She ran upon no rock.
Página 34 - I would not have a slave to till my ground, To carry me, to fan me while I sleep, And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth That sinews bought and sold have ever earn'd.
Página 46 - What ! will a man play tricks, will he indulge A silly fond conceit of his fair form And just proportion, fashionable mien And pretty face, in presence of his God ? Or will he seek to dazzle me with tropes, As with the diamond on his lily hand, And play his brilliant parts before my eyes, When I am hungry for the bread of life ? He mocks his Maker, prostitutes and shames His noble office, and, instead of truth, Displaying his own beauty, starves his flock. Therefore avaunt all attitude, and stare,...
Página 220 - Sage beneath the spreading oak Sat the Druid, hoary chief: Every burning word he spoke Full of rage, and full of grief. ' Princess ! if our aged eyes Weep upon thy matchless wrongs, 'Tis because resentment ties All the terrors of our tongues. ' Rome shall perish ! — write that word In the blood that she has spilt: Perish, hopeless and abhorr'd, Deep in ruin as in guilt.
Página 94 - Made vocal for the amusement of the rest ; The sprightly lyre, whose treasure of sweet sounds The touch from many a trembling chord shakes out ; And the clear voice symphonious, yet distinct, And in the charming strife triumphant still, Beguile the night, and set a keener edge On female industry ; the threaded steel Flies swiftly, and unfelt the task proceeds.
Página 20 - Within the twilight of their distant shades ; There, lost behind a rising ground, the wood Seems sunk, and shorten'd to its topmost boughs. No tree in all the grove but has its charms, Though each its hue peculiar...
Página 64 - My panting side was charged, when I withdrew To seek a tranquil death in distant shades. There was I found by one who had Himself Been hurt by th
Página 34 - Slaves cannot breathe in England ; if their lungs Receive our air, that moment they are free, They touch our country, and their shackles fall.
Página 126 - Thou art the source and centre of all minds, Their only point of rest, eternal Word ! From thee departing they are lost, and rove At random without honour, hope, or peace. From thee is all that soothes the life of man, His high endeavour, and his glad success, His strength to suffer, and his will to serve.